If anything, she’s smaller that most of the girls I fuck.
I’d go so far as saying she resembles a pixie. The top of her head barely reaches the base of my chin.
Images of throwing her against my wall, her tiny body crushed by mine, my cock driving in and out of her tiny, tight pussy. Fuck, she won’t be hard to seduce, and it certainly won’t be a task. Most men would feel like assholes for what I’m about to do, but in the end it’s giving her a better life, and giving me a business that I’ve been working for.
As I said, win-win.
I shut the door and go around to the driver’s side, sliding in. Katia is staring at me with fuck-me eyes. Shit; she wants it as much as I do. I’m used to expensive women throwing themselves at me, wanting my cash, wanting my house for a night, and enjoying me, but this girl? This girl is staring at me as if she wants to run her tongue over my body, slowly.
“Fuck me,” I rasp. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, and I’ll take you right here in this fuckin’ car.”
She bites her lip.
I fuckin’ die.
This is going to be fun.
~*~*~*~
KATIA
His house.
Wow.
It’s bigger than any place I’ve ever been to. It’s not even a house; it’s a mansion. I find out why it’s so big when he tells me he runs his business out of it, that it’s the main office as well as where he lives. One end of the massive twelve-bedroom mansion has been decked out as offices. There are also five massive sheds that he told me house the machinery he hires out. Successfully, apparently.
Again, wow.
He leads me through the tiled, ginormous house. There’s expensive artwork scattered about, as well as furniture I’ve never seen, or heard of. It all looks uncomfortable, as rich people’s furniture usually does. I’d rather curl up on my faded yellow sofa any day. When we reach his room, I gasp. It’s bigger than my apartment. His bed is bigger than my God damned apartment.
“I . . . wow,” I breathe.
He shrugs his coat off and unfastens his tie, sliding it off from around his neck. Then he pops the top button to his shirt, exposing more bronzed skin. “Can I get you a drink?” he asks, heading to the large bar set up in the corner of his bedroom.
“Please,” I say, taking a seat on the plush maroon sofa tucked into the corner.
He pours two drinks, and then hands me one as he joins me on the sofa. His thigh grazes mine as he brings the amber liquid to his lips, sipping it as he watches me. I realize his eyes are a really dark brown, so dark they look black.
“Tell me how you want this to go, precious.”
Precious. God.
“I’ll leave that to you,” I murmur, the alcohol swimming in my head.
“Jesus,” he growls.
He puts a glass down and reaches out, taking mine. Then his fingers are sliding down my cheek. This man is dangerous, of that I don’t doubt, yet his touch is so seductive. I can’t pull my eyes from his as his fingers slide down my neck, causing little tingles to break out over my skin. He runs the tips over my collarbone, before taking them all the way back up until his hand has slipped behind my neck. He pulls me closer and I close my eyes, waiting for his lips.
The heat of his mouth is so close it’s washing over my skin, but he doesn’t kiss me. I open my eyes and his are still locked on mine, his lips only a centimeter from mine. Why isn’t he kissing me? This is torture, pure torture. Instead, he slides his tongue out and touches it to my bottom lip. Holy hell. That’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever done to me. I whimper and he finally closes the distance between us.
The moment his lips connect with mine, and his stubble scratches the skin around my mouth, I lose it. It’s such an intense moment, so erotic and damned sexy. I sink into him, my fingers going to his shirt, flicking some of the buttons as his tongue invades my mouth, tangling with mine, the scorching heat sending flames right to my core. My toes curl as the kiss deepens.
This man is going to rock my world, of that I’m sure.
He pulls his mouth from mine and his lips travel down over my neck. My nipples turn into hard peaks as his mouth kisses a scorching path down my neck, over my shoulders, and then he covers my nipples with his opened mouth through my clothes. The heat of his breath burning through my dress and over my already hard nipples has my back arching. I thrust my hips up and he catches them with his hands as his lips continue to devour my breast.
This man doesn’t do things by halves. He’s devouring every inch of me, even before my clothes have left my body. No wham, bam, thank you ma’am, here, no, Marcus is greedy and I like it. My back presses further into the sofa as he continues his nipple torture. My hips thrust, but he keeps a steady hold on them, making sure my ass remains pressed into the plush cushions. I close my eyes, letting out a long, ragged breath as he finally reaches for the hem of my dress, sliding it up inch by inch.
I wish he would hurry up.
Shit, no, I wish he would slow down so this doesn’t have to end.
“Marcus,” I breathe.
“Don’t speak, Katia,” he says, his voice low and husky, “unless I tell you to.”
Whoa. Okay.
“But . . .”
He jerks my hips so suddenly I’m caught off guard. Before I know what’s happening, he’s got me flat on the couch, my head pressing into the cushions as he drops his body over mine. He brings his face close to mine; his dark eyes are so damned intense it takes everything inside me to hold his gaze. “I said,” he growls, flashing white teeth as he speaks, “don’t speak.”