have both agreed to take that step.”
I shook my head. “Not enough. I’ll get too caught up with you, begging in the heat of the moment. When you showed up at my door tonight, my very first thought was that I wanted you to fuck me.”
“Victoria . . .” His roughened voice made heat cascade through me. Seeming to steel himself, he said, “I vow I will never sleep with you until we’ve both agreed to take that step—agreed outside of a sexual situation.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“It means we will sit down and discuss taking this”—he motioned between us—“further. It means you can enjoy time with me without feeling pressure.”
He’d just given me all the tools I needed to milk-cow him.
I nibbled my lip, as if I were undecided. Of course I was going to play his games. Because I was working. What I wanted didn’t necessarily factor.
Keep telling yourself that, Vice. “Okay. We’ve got a deal.”
“One that will likely be the death of me.” With a pained groan, he adjusted his cock in his pants.
I inhaled sharply, wishing he would keep touching himself . . . like he had two nights ago in this limo. I imagined him rubbing his big pierced dick, filling his palm with cum—
The limo glided to a stop in front of the restaurant.
Dmitri said, “Are you ready, moy ángel?”
As if waking from a spell, I nodded dumbly.
Starsky hurried around to open the door. When Dmitri helped me from the car, my nipples were straining against the thin silk.
The valet stared at my tits; the doorman stared. Each time someone noticed my swollen breasts and the lewdly jutting peaks, a forbidden thrill shivered through me.
Dmitri kept his warm hand on my lower back, his stance proprietary. I glanced up at him. His gaze was locked on me, as if he was making an effort to block out the others’ attention.
He’d been telling the truth. Dmitri Sevastyan was a jealous man—who was unfortunately fascinated by his date’s reaction to exhibitionism.
Later, I would let him know he was the one making me wet. His cock adjustment—and my brief fantasy about him—had primed me just as much as showing off my breasts.
He leaned down to murmur at my ear, “I’m going to feed your body, Vika, then later you’re going to be my dessert.”
A breath shuddered out of my lungs.
Trouble, Vice. Deep.
CHAPTER 15
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I could get used to this.
A warm breeze blew into our cabana, flickering the table’s candle. The flame reflected in Dmitri’s eyes, his irises looking like backlit amber.
I dragged my gaze from his heart-stopping face to survey the picturesque scene. The outdoor seating surrounded an elegant pool, and each table had a private cabana.
I’d always wanted to eat here, but the prices were exorbitant. Murano’s sourced seafood from all over Italy and flew it in daily.
When the tuxedoed waiter, a ginger-haired fortysomething, had taken our orders a few minutes ago, I’d marveled at the menu, choosing the Mediterranean blue rock lobster. Dmitri had selected Venetian crab ravioli with artichokes.
I turned back to him. “You’re staring.”
“You’re stunning.”
Each time I caught him checking me out, my cheeks heated. To relax, I’d been drinking again, sip after sip of the delectable wine he’d picked out. Plus I was nervous about his promise to make me his dessert. Did he plan to go down on me?
When he lifted his own wineglass for a sparing taste, my gaze fell on his banged-up knuckles. “What happened there?”
He put his glass back. “It’s nothing.”
I reached across the table, taking his hand in both of mine. When I stroked the skin beside a cut, his muscles tensed and he exhaled a long breath.
Did even an innocent touch of mine affect him so much? How . . . heady.
I wondered what he’d do if I blew him. Visions of taking him between my lips filled my mind. Sucking and teasing his dick. Tonguing his silver piercing as his powerful body quaked. Making him desperate to come . . . until he was helplessly fucking my mouth. . . .
“There,” he suddenly said. “Your cheeks grew flushed. What were you just thinking?”
I released his hand. “This and that.” My panties were going to be soaked.
“I would kill to know what you’re musing about when you blush. Will you not tell me?”
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll show you later.”
“Tease.”
Only always. I lifted my glass again. “You really don’t drink a lot, huh?”
He shook his head. “I don’t relish feeling out of control. Except for during sexual play with