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“Oh, my God!” I choke out. He’s watching me over my mound as I writhe against the velvet of the couch. I can feel myself building up to orgasm already, but just when I think I can’t take anymore, he pulls away.
He pulls away!
“Not yet,” he warns against my swollen lips before dipping his head lower.
“But why?!” I wail, reaching down and trying to push his face closer to me. He swats my hands away.
Yet again, Kirill’s tongue flickers over my clit, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through my body. I twist and gasp, my nails digging into the plush fabric as I chase completion, only for him to pull away again at the last second.
What the hell is his deal?
“Oh, fuck,” I whimper, arching my hips towards him in desperation. “Why are you doing this?”
He chuckles darkly against my core, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “I said not yet,” he growls before resuming his torturous ministrations.
His fingers delve inside me once more, curling and stroking in time with his tongue’s sensual dance on my clit. I can feel myself unraveling under his skilled touch, every ounce of resistance melting away with each passing second.
“Please,” I beg, no longer caring about pride or control. All I can think of is finding relief from this exquisite torment. “Kirill… I can’t take it anymore.”
“Yes you can.” His voice is taunting. The tip of his tongue touches my clit, and I jolt.
“Fuck! Please… I’m begging you,” I choke out.
“You’re begging me?”
“Yes! Please… please just let me come.” My whole body feels like it’s strung taut as a bowstring. And once again, he stops.
He stops!
Why did he stop?
The man’s driving me crazy; toying with me like a cat with a mouse.
“Noooo!” I gasp, my fingers tangling into his hair.
He looks up at me with a smirk before dipping his head once more, sucking hard on my swollen bud and thrusting two fingers deep inside me at the same time.
And me? I am done.
The world explodes around me as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over me in an endless tide.
“Kirill!” My back arches off the sofa as I cry out his name, lost in the insane intensity of my climax. My hips buck, my thighs shake, and my cum is dripping down my inner thighs onto the chair I’m sitting on.
As I come down from the high, panting and spent, Kirill stands before me with a smug expression on his face.
“I told you,” he drawls lazily as he smooths his hair and adjusts his pants over an erection that he clearly doesn’t plan to use, “I've never had to force a woman to want me.”
I stare at him in astonishment, my mouth hanging open.
Bastard!
I don’t say the word though. I’m still trying to catch my breath as I watch him turn and head to the door.
“I have business to attend to,” he throws over his shoulder. “Be ready for dinner at 7. Wear the red dress.”
He walks out the door, leaving me spent, and staring after him like an idiot. I think I hate him again. If only I could convince my body to agree.
Chapter Fourteen
