Page 11 of Preferential Treatment

“I know I do.” His voice emerged as a growl as his hands tightened on her calves.

“Careful,” she warned, giving his hair a sharp tug.

He grunted, easing back, loosening his grip. “Let me prove it.”

“Hmm…” She tapped her chin with one finger, gaze wandering over his naked body—from the firmly bunched muscles of his broad shoulders, down that darkly furred chest and abdomen, to the rampant jut of his cock, the crown already glistening with pre-come. She shifted one foot forward, brushing the toe of her shoe along the underside of his shaft.

Mikhail sucked in a staggered breath, nearly doubling over at the shock of sensation. Kate pressed the toe of her shoe very delicately against the juncture where the base of his shaft and the top of his sac met. He groaned, eyes squeezing shut, hands clenching on her calves.

“Ah, please, knyazhna! Moya printsessa, ya vas umolyayu—let me—” Russian and English bled together into an incomprehensible language made up only of pleading sounds as something wet touched the top of Kate’s foot, seeping through her stocking. She glanced down—pre-come wept in a thin strand from the tip of his cock to her foot.

“You’re making a mess,” she said sulkily, pressing her toe in just a bit harder.

“Ah! Forgive me, knyazhna. Please, let me—fuck. I need—pozhaluysta, moya printsessa—” He drew in a pained breath. His voice sounded even deeper in Russian. “Let me make it up to you.” His whole body seemed somehow bigger, more muscular, as he strained to remain kneeling at her feet.

“Make up for what?”

“Making a mess.”

“And what else?” She dug her toe in just a bit harder, rewarded with a choked groan.

“Propositioning you.”

“That’s right. Are you ashamed of yourself?”

“No.”

Kate laughed out loud, unable to help herself. That was not the answer she was expecting. Struggling to school her features into seriousness, she ended up grinning at him as she informed him, “You should be.”

“But I can’t be, because now you are my printsessa.”

Charming, sneaky bastard. She had to move away from sentimental talk or she’d end up cuddling him like a puppy. Apparently she was a very soft domme, but she sensed that she was not being paid for softness.

“How would you make up for your bad behavior?” she asked, drawing her foot away and releasing her grip on his hair. Indulging herself for a moment, she pet him, stroking her fingertips along his scalp where previously she’d been pulling.

He let out a gravelly sigh, leaning into her touch like an affectionate wolf. “Let me make you come with my mouth.”

“Hm… I don’t know. I think you might enjoy it too much.” Kate wanted to find out what that mouth could do, but she was enjoying his desperation, and based on the puddle of pre-come on her foot, so was he.

“I wouldn’t take my own pleasure,” he promised, turning his head to kiss her thigh. “I swear. Only let me give you yours, knyazhna.”

Kate gazed down at him, suddenly hit with the stark awareness that this was Mikhail Volkov, in a way she hadn’t been before. The picture he presented was almost profane. Not because of his nakedness or his arousal, but because of what he represented—power, wealth, masculinity—and what she’d done to him. If the tech and finance bros, the “rise and grind” bootstrap-pullers, the self-declared “alphas,” could see their patron saint now, they’d be stunned by the sacrilege.

Kate smiled and leaned back, bracing her hands against the desk as she parted her thighs. “Alright, then. Convince me you’re sorry.”

His hands slid up the backs of her calves, gripping behind her knees and pulling her legs wider apart. Kate gasped, a shock of pleasure shooting straight to her core. Her skirt slid up her thighs, revealing the tiny lace undies she’d worn in anticipation of having them seen. She hadn’t imagined, though, that they’d be witnessed this close up. Mikhail buried his face between her thighs, nose nuzzling over her mons, inhaling deeply of her scent.

“Ah,” he breathed out, the sigh of a parched man finally getting a drink of water. “Needed this since you first touched me.” His deep voice rumbled against her skin, sending gentle vibrations straight to her sensitive flesh.

Kate drew in a stuttering breath, trying to keep her composure. Mikhail nuzzled deeper, the bridge of his nose pressing the wet lace of her panties into the seam of her pussy, nudging against her clit. Kate damn near shot out of her skin at the burst of sensation. Christ, all the teasing had gotten her revved. She was already on the edge of coming.

Mikhail let out a pleasured growl at her reaction. His hands tightened behind her knees, suddenly slinging her legs up and over his shoulders, then sliding up to grip her hips. His tongue slicked out, stroking over lace and dragging around her clit.

“Jesus fuck,” Kate gasped, bracing herself on her elbows as she stared down at him, legs already beginning to shake. Her heels had slipped off, hanging onto each foot by her curled toes.

One of Mikhail’s hands abandoned its grip on her hip, slipping over her thigh to reach for her panties. With a firm yank, he ripped them away. Kate yelped as the elastic bit painfully into her skin, but the pain only heightened everything else she was feeling.

“You’re going to pay for those,” she managed to gasp.

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