Billie and the Russian Beast - Theodora Taylor Page 0,17

thing?” he repeats like it’s a super foreign word he’s never heard before. “You mean my cock, da?”

I nod. My cheeks aflame.

“Say the real word then,” he commands.

“Your cock. Can I touch your cock?”

He regards me for a cool moment. Then nods.

I’m deeply aware of his eyes on me as I unbuckle his trousers and unzip his pants.

That’s the hardest work I have to do, though. One tug, and he springs out. Completely ready to go and dripping pre-cum.

“I should make you suck,” he says. “But I won’t. Do you like that, pet? Do you like how hard you make me?”

A question. I wordlessly nod.

“Do you think your nameless friend would get me to this state?”

Another question. And I’m torn about my answer. But I have to admit, “Men love her, but she doesn’t do boyfriends, so she’d probably be way better at a five-day hookup than me. And she’s stunning. Like, way prettier than me.”

He scoffs. “Nobody is prettier than you, krasotka,” he tells me in a chiding tone. Like I’ve just tried to convince him the sky is purple. “And I am not what you think. I do not do this every weekend. No other woman makes me crazy hard like this without any effort. Only you.”

Before he said that, I wasn’t sure what my next request would be. But now it burns in my chest, obvious and clear. “Can I…can I kiss you?”

His eyes flare with surprise.

Then he nods, his gaze somber on mine.

I lean forward and press my mouth into his. The kiss is soft at first. Almost innocent. But then he cups the back of my head and thrusts his tongue into my mouth. I’ve French-kissed before, but this is different. His tongue tugs on mine like he’s trying to pull me into him.

I’m so out of control. My hips frantically grind into his as we kiss. And oh God…the shorts move. Allow me to feel a flash of his hard length against the side of my pussy.

That’s all the inspiration I need.

“Can I…can I put you inside of me?” I gasp against his mouth.

“Da,” he answers, his voice rough.

That’s all the invitation I need. I grip him tight and use his long length to push the soaking wet crotch of my shorts aside.

It’s crazy how easily I slide him in. And though he’s the one who insisted on playing these games with me, we both groan when I sink down all the way to the hilt.

He pumps into me a couple of times. But then curses in Russian. “Condom…”

I curse, too, unable to believe I forgot it. You’d think that would kill the mood. But I simply lift off and wait as he retrieves one from his wallet.

“Hurry,” I say.

He smiles and kisses me again while his hands move between us.

I reach down to put him back in when he’s done. But he gently pushes aside my hands. Then he not so gently at all, fists the band of my shorts and yanks.

The thin material falls away with a ripping sound. Leaving my pussy completely exposed.

Cheslav takes immediate advantage, gripping my hips and driving himself in. I groan. The pleasure is jarring and my pussy throbs at the harsh but delicious penetration.

I guess he’s done playing with me. He fists my shirt and tears that off too. Then both hands come up to my chest as he fucks me hard.

“Do you see how crazy you make me?” he growls as he takes me. “Like animal.”

Yes, I do. But I can’t feel sorry for him because he makes me crazy too. For reasons that have nothing to do with money, or saving Clem, I drive my hips up and down on his dick, meeting him stroke for stroke.

And sooner than I expected, I can feel the rising tide. “Please can I come? Please can I come?” I beg, my voice thin with need.

His green eyes suddenly connect with mine, his expression unexpectedly tender. “Yes, come, my pet. Come now with me.”

We both yell out in the next moment. Cheslav goes rigid while I quiver around him like jelly. Then we collapse into each other in a loose-armed sort of hug.

We breathe heavy, finally sated. But then I feel his hand in my thick hair, tugging my head back.

“What…?” I start to ask.

But I lose the question when he hits me with another hard kiss.

I don’t just receive his kiss. I return it. Not caring a fig how swollen my lips might feel tomorrow morning.

And as