Page 18 of Dancing With Distraction

I roll my eyes at him, knowing it will infuriate him further. “Crystal fucking clear. Although, you should know, mister tall, dark, and fucking sexy, that you aren’t my fucking keeper.” He grins, sliding his hand to my throat and carefully wrapping his fingers around it.

“Tell that to that tight little cunt of yours.” He leans forward, kissing me with such force that I almost fall into a wet heap. I can’t help but kiss him back, and my inner strong queen groans in annoyance. So fucking weak, Tori.

“Now, go home,” he instructs, “and think about the rules and boundaries we need to put in place for our agreement to work for us both. Because, Tori, that little outburst right there cannot happen again. Understood?”

I nod, unable to find any smart comeback because I’m lost for words and my knees are weak. He opens the door, and as I try to leave, he grabs my wrist, reigniting the thrill inside me. I know I’ll go home frustrated at not getting another glimpse of what he started last night. Christ, I want to taste him.

Out of nowhere, his driver appears. “Marshall, drive Miss Harding home,” Dmitry orders. Marshall nods, and I stomp past him, heading out. “And Tori,” I turn at the use of my preferred name, “lock your fucking door.”

Dmitry

Ibrace my hands on my desk and close my eyes before counting to ten. Fuck. I wanted to go nuclear on her for her behaviour. And if we’d already made an agreement, she’d be trussed up with my strongest rope—or better still, bound and gagged in the boot of my Audi—until I’d finished this meeting where I’d . . .

I give my head a shake. I can’t afford to fuck this meeting up, and now, thanks to that little display, I’ve got to go and explain myself to some of the most powerful men in my world. The men fall silent when I enter, and I force a smile. “Apologies. We’ve returned her to the psych ward,” I joke. It sounds foreign because I never joke, but it earns a few chuckles.

Ronnie is glaring at me, no doubt wondering why another woman turned up to cause a scene when I’m supposed to be making progress with his daughter. Like any of these fuckers can claim to be a one-woman kind of man.

“Shall we continue?” I push, taking a seat.

I wind it up two hours later. The meeting dragged on for far too long, and I almost fucked up several times. Luckily, Leo was by my side to correct my mistakes, and as the men clear out, he pulls me back. “Everything okay, boss?” I nod, though my expression says anything but.

Ronnie is next in line, and I inwardly groan as he fixes me with concern in his eyes. “Listen, son . . .” I shudder at his words and itch to pull rank on him, but instead, I lower my head like I’m listening to his bullshit words of wisdom. “I know in our world things are tough, and occasionally, we might decide to have a little extra fun on the side, but Vivian is my daughter and?—”

I hold my hand up to cut off his words. “What you saw was a misunderstanding. She owes me money for damaging my car. She wasn’t pleased when I went to collect.”

He arches a brow. “You went in person to collect?”

I give a nod. “As you can see, she’s a tricky one to handle, and I thought a personal touch would scare her. Clearly, I failed.”

He laughs, slapping me hard on the back. “You’re losing your touch,” he teases.

I turn away, heading for my office. “Your daughter doesn’t think so,” I mutter under my breath.

I have an hour before I have to pick Vivian up for a dinner date, and I find myself rushing up the steps to Victoria’s place two at a time. I don’t have the patience to wait around to be let in, so I press her buzzer. When she doesn’t answer, I growl in frustration and begin pressing all the other buzzers until the door clicks open.

I rest my hand against the door handle to Tori’s flat, praying she’s followed my simple instruction, but before I get to test it, the door swings open and we’re face-to-face. She yelps in surprise, dropping a basket of clothes. I don’t give her time to react, grabbing her around the throat and pushing her back into the room, causing her to almost slip on the discarded garments. I slam the door closed, continuing to walk her backwards until her legs hit the bed, and then I force her to lie back, leaning over her with anger radiating from me.

“You come to my fucking bar,” I hiss, “without my permission. You break glasses like some deranged bitch and cause a scene, interrupting a very important meeting with some of the most deadliest men,” I continue, pressing harder while she’s hopelessly clawing my hand. “And then you have the audacity to pretend you didn’t fucking enjoy how I made you come last night.”

I stare down at her red face as she tries desperately to pull air into her lungs. When her hand falls away from mine, I release her throat and she inhales sharply, coughing violently. “Are you fucking mental?” she screams, trying to jump up from the bed.

I grab her hair, pulling her head back and grinning. “Are you only just realising, my krasota?” I pull her closer until our lips are almost touching. Her hands press gently against my chest as she stares into my eyes. “If our agreement had begun, you’d be tied to my table,” I whisper, noting her eyes darken with lust. “You’d be on the edge of an orgasm with your backside so sore . . .”

She smiles. “Promises, promises.”

I grit my teeth. She surely doesn’t understand how badly I want this. “But seeing as we haven’t agreed, we’ll have to make do.” I spin her away from me, bending her face down on the bed. I pull her hands behind her back and rip off my tie to secure them, pulling the material extra tight to leave a mark that’ll have her dreaming of me every time she sees it. “Your safe word will be ‘distraction’, Victoria,” I say firmly, pushing her skirt up to her waist and lifting her at the hips until her legs are straight and her backside is up in the air, presented to me in all its glory. “It’s there to protect you, and if you choose to use it, I will respect that and stop immediately. Are we clear?” She gives a nod, and I narrow my eyes, fisting her hair again until she’s looking at me. “Words, Victoria.”

“Distraction is my safe word,” she repeats, and I smile, running my hand over her backside and pressing it against her pussy. Her eyes drift closed, and she fidgets, trying to get friction. I snigger, releasing her hair and positioning myself behind her. “Did you think up some boundaries?” I ask, rubbing my hands together.

“No.”

“No, Sir,” I correct her.

She grins, side-eyeing me from her position on the bed. “That’s a boundary right there,” she quips, “expecting me to call you ‘Sir’.”

The first slap is always the best. That sound as my hand hits her flesh, and the surprise on her innocent face . . . I briefly close my eyes to savour it before repeating the motion. I watch her skin react, the red handprint appearing before my eyes. “I want to make this good for you, Tori, but you’re making it difficult.”

“I’m not your side project,” she spits. “You can’t fix me.”

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