Page 77 of Hidden Empire

I whimper against him, a cool brush of calm washing over me. My heart is hammering, but the rush is amazing. It’s like the most electric surge of contentment taking over me, and there’s nothing I can do except bask in.

Dmitri kisses each of my breasts before covering them up and reaching for my face. He presses little pecks all over, peppering my neck and face while I just breathe. He doesn’t seem to care at all that his pants definitely have a wet spot, nor does he mind that I’m a little spacey.

“Is that better, love?” he asks, running his hands down my arms in a gentle caress.

My lips lift in a tired smile. “So much better.”

“You need some rest,” he notes, not sounding at all disappointed.

“What about you?” I ask, nodding to the substantial lift in his pants.

I don’t have to see underneath to know he’s hard there.

“I’ll take care of myself,” he tells me, leaning closer. “Tonight, while you’re tucked away in bed, rubbing your little clit to this memory, I’ll be fucking my fist thinking of your taste and how goddamn pretty you are when you come for me.”

How do I get a ticket to that show?

“O-oh, okay.”

“Do me a favor, Krasotka?”

Anything.

“Yes?”

“When you’re touching yourself before you fall asleep, and you’re about to finish… say my name.”

“But you won’t hear it?”

“I’ll know that you say it,” he tells me. “I’ll come harder knowing that my girl is in her bed, doing the same thing I am in mine.”

And damn, only fifteen minutes after he leaves, I have to tuck my fingers into my panties and rub until I come. I make good on my promise, whispering his name into my pillow until my orgasm subsides, and I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 22

Jade

Fight class sucks.

Contrary to how I snapped on Kim, I am not a punching kind of girl. Why do I have to hurt my hands to hurt someone else? It’s counterintuitive bullshit, and I hate it.

I’d rather use a weapon.

“I am not doing another fight class next year,” I tell Matteo as he slowly lowers an ice pack to my sore knuckles. “I don’t care if I level up or not, never again.”

He chuckles at my dramatic sigh.

“Do you want something for the pain?”

I perk up at the offer.

“Do you have something?”

“Tylenol,” Armani interjects, giving Matteo a hard stare.

“Oh, lighten up, Sergeant Killjoy,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I was going to give her a gummy, not a fucking Percocet.”

“You have Percocets?” I question, widening my eyes at him.

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