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He rubs the head through my wetness once, twice, teasing my clit, before he thrusts up into me in one brutal stroke.

A loud cry rips from my throat. He’s so deep, stretching me wide, filling me completely. He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He starts fucking me against the wall. Hard, deep, relentless strokes that slam me into the surface with every thrust.

Each snap of his hips drives him impossibly deeper. My breasts bounce with the force of it. I can’t do anything but take it, pinned and helpless as pleasure crashes through me.

“Who’s in charge?” he demands, voice gravelly against my ear. He grinds against my clit with every thrust.

“You—” I gasp, the word breaking on a moan.

“Louder.”

“You are!” I cry out as he angles his hips and hits that perfect spot again and again.

“That’s right, baby. This pussy knows who owns it.” He releases my wrists only to grip both my ass cheeks, lifting me completely off the floor. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he fucks me even harder, using the wall for leverage.

I’m moaning shamelessly now, nails digging into his shoulders. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room, mixing with my broken cries and his low grunts.

He leans in and bites my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “Say it again. Who do you belong to?”

“You… Andrei… I’m yours—” The words tumble out as my orgasm builds fast and vicious.

He feels it. His pace turns punishing. “Come for me. Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The command sends me over the edge. Pleasure explodes through me, white-hot and overwhelming. I scream his name as I come hard, my walls clenching and pulsing around him.

Andrei doesn’t stop. He fucks me through every wave, drawing it out until I’m shaking and sobbing with overstimulation. Only then does he bury himself deep and come with a guttural groan, flooding me with hot pulses.

We stay locked together against the wall, both of us breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, his cock still buried inside me as aftershocks tremble through my body.

His voice is low, dark, and satisfied when he finally speaks against my lips.

“Now… who’s in charge, Rosie?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rosie

After Andrei fucks me and makes it very clear that he is in charge, we reach a compromise. I agree that he can put security detail on me while I resume work. It’s not exactly what I want, but it’s better than being locked inside the house all day like some fragile thing.

We spend the rest of the day together, him, Anya, and me. We have lunch on the patio, watch Anya play in the garden, and for once, there is no tension hanging over our heads. He doesn’t bring up the swimming again, and I silently thank him for that small mercy.

By afternoon, Anya is down for her nap, and that’s when Andrei walks into the bedroom where I’m folding laundry.

“Get dressed,” he says.

I look up at him, suspicious immediately. “Why?”

“I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Where?”

He just gives me that maddening, secretive smile and shakes his head. “You’ll see.”

Typical.

Now I’m sitting in the passenger seat of his car while he drives us through the city, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on my thigh.

We pull up in front of a towering high-rise building made almost entirely of glass and steel. It stretches high into the sky.