Page 39 of Lord of the Underworld

Chapter Seventeen

In which Vadim’s audaciousness knows no bounds.

Oksana…

For one second, shock flickers across Vadim's eyes with maybe some apprehension, before they're shuttered again. How can this bastard be so casual? He still has his fingers inside me, leaning over me like the Dark God I know he is.

My chest heaves, rubbing against his arm, and I know he can feel how hard my nipples are. Why am I worried about my nipples when my center is still gripping his fingers like it's never letting go? I cover my face with my hands, and he pulls them off again, swooping down to kiss me. A hard, greedy one, mashing my lips against my teeth. I can taste myself on him. His lips and his chin are wet, and its screechingly erotic in a way that I never knew I would want.

Sliding my hand up into his hair, I grip it tightly, kissing him back. His thumb is still stroking lightly over my painfully swollen clitoris as the reverberations from the last waves of my orgasm sweep over me.

Finally, he lifts his head, pulling his fingers from me and putting them in his mouth as I stare, wide-eyed. This is so out of my frame of reference. Things like this happen in my books, but not to me. I didn't know this kind of thing happened in real life at all. His eyes are closed, like he's savoring the taste of me.

When they open again, I blurt, "You were in my bedroom, weren't you?"

Vadim eyes me for a moment, then nods.

"How many times?"

He doesn't answer, and I'm furious with him and his refusal to talk, then a slow smile spreads across those perfect lips.

A true smile. So devastating, that all I can do is stare at it in admiration. It's as beautiful as an eclipse over a full moon, or a black tide washing up on the beach.

When I can breathe again, I say, "I woke up one night, I thought it was a dream, but I was talking to you, wasn't I?"

"Yes," he says.

"And those other nights? Oh-" I put my hand over my face again. "Were you watching me? And don't just shrug."

"Yes," he says again.

Then, my eyes widen as the realization crashes in on me. "You are the one who put that camera inside my lamp, aren't you?"

My hands go to his shoulders, and I push back, trying to shove him off me. And it's just about as effective as it would be if I were trapped under a truck.

"Yes," he agrees. Does this man know any response other than 'yes?'

"When?" I snap, my arms tightening, still trying to push him away.

"The night we met at dinner," he finally says.

"That was…" I'm thinking back, "That was like two weeks ago. You came into my room; you put a camera there!"

Now, he shrugs, the insolent bastard. "More than one."

"More than one, what, visits or cameras?"

"Both," he says. No embarrassment, no chagrin.

Oh, god! He saw me rubbing my clit and moaning? I think I even said his name as I came. How dare he!

Since he's not going to move, I inch up from under him against the headboard, hastily readjusting my straps and covering myself.

"You can't- That's- I can't believe you did that!" I sputter. "Why?"

"I wanted to see you." Then his face darkens, and it's like a storm cloud sweeping over the ocean. Full of rage, crackling with lightning. "I saw the Sovietnik enter your bedroom. He took your panties."

Putting the back of my hand against my mouth, I fight an angry surge from my stomach. The violation. It strips everything from me, humiliating, leaving me bare. Scoured. Ashamed.