Page 62 of Preferential Treatment

“I’m not done using you,” Kate told him, teasing her finger over the sensitive crown of his cock, smiling when she drew another tortured groan from him. “That’s what you’re for, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he breathed eagerly, hips rocking again. “Yes, knyazhna. Use me.”

She gripped his shaft and rose up on her knees, pulling her panties aside and guiding his cock to fit the head against her slick folds. His hands went to her hips, gripping her as she sank down on him. They both moaned as she took him into her body, feeling the slow stretch of her inner muscles around his thick, hard shaft. She sank all the way down and rested there for a moment, letting her body acclimate to him.

Mikhail was breathing like a racehorse, his fingers curled into her hips hard enough that she’d probably have marks tomorrow. She didn’t mind. She loved how thoroughly she destroyed his self-control.

She rocked slightly, forward and back, feeling him move inside her.

“Ah, fuck, knyazhna, you feel so good.”

“You feel good, too,” she said, a little breathless as she began to ride him. Up and down at first, mostly just to torment him.

“Fuck, no, knyazhna, please—I’m going to—agh—going to come!”

“You better not.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth gritted against the pleasure of her body.

She laughed. “Look at you. My perfect sex toy. Always hard when I want a ride.”

“Please, please, I need to come. I need to. Knyazhna—” He growled with frustration as she lifted off of him entirely. “No, knyazhna, please, I’m sorry. Take me inside you. I’ll be good. Please, knyazhna. Please. I need—”

She worked her panties down her legs and over her feet. Balling them up, she stuffed them in his open mouth, cutting him off mid-word.

“Sex toys don’t talk,” she said.

And then she had him in hand again, guiding him back inside her. She rode him the way she liked now, a back and forth grind that worked his pubic bone against her clit while rocking his shaft against a sensitive spot inside her. He writhed beneath her, wordless moans coming from his gagged mouth. It was all so perfect, and with a few more hard grinding rolls of her hips, Kate tipped herself over into a breath-stealing, leg-trembling, toe-curling orgasm.

Mikhail shouted something incomprehensible as her pussy clenched down on him, over and over, and over. When the last ecstatic contraction eased, she drew back until his cock slipped out of her and she sat on his thighs, catching her breath. Mikhail was still throbbing and hard, moaning desperately through her panties.

Prickly with sweat, she reached behind herself to unzip her dress and pull it up over her head. She tossed it to the floor and then sent her bra along with it. Mikhail lifted his head, took in the sight of her naked body, then let his head drop back, uttering a string of Russian curses muffled by her panties.

Still a little breathless, Kate smiled wickedly and took him in hand, stroking up and down.

“You better not come,” she warned as she gripped him tighter and pumped faster. “You don’t have permission yet.”

His inarticulate objections only made her laugh. She kept working his cock, until he was nearly sobbing with the effort of not coming, balls drawn tight, spine bowed, thighs clenched, hands fisted in the bedding.

“No, no, no, no,” he begged through the gag. “Nyet. Please, knyazhna. Ah! Pozhaluysta!”

When his muffled pleading had shifted to mostly Russian, and he was just about to lose control, Kate let go of his cock. He let out a long, desperate, soul-deep groan, hands clenching and unclenching, hips rocking compulsively. The normally stoic, hard-faced man was flushed and glassy-eyed, just totally sex drunk and utterly at Kate’s mercy.

She watched him, momentarily stunned by the strength and power of his big body—and that all that strength was hers to command. She felt special, elevated, but also slightly humbled that he trusted her this much. The affection, the closeness, that she’d been trying to fight suddenly overwhelmed her, and she wanted nothing more than to make him feel as good as possible.

She fitted herself against his cock again, sinking down, taking him in. She sat there, holding him inside, stroking her hands soothingly over his chest. Bracing her weight on her hands, she started to work her hips.

“You want to come?”

He moaned. His whole body shook.

“Do what you want,” she told him. She reached up to pluck her panties out of his mouth. “Come for me, Mishka.”

His hands went to her hips again, gripping tight, and he flipped her onto her back. He was on top, all that weight bearing down between her thighs, but there was still no mistaking who was in control. Kate clung to him like a rider on a particularly rowdy stallion, while Mikhail labored at her command, breathing hard, dazed eyes searching hers with a softness that only existed in moments like these.

Kate cupped the back of his neck, urging him on, rolling her hips to meet his desperate thrusts. “Come for me,” she panted. “Be a good boy and—”

His mouth descended on hers, stealing her words. Stunned, Kate held onto him and kissed him back with the same wild abandon as they fucked. It meant something, she knew, that he’d initiated the kiss. That he needed it so desperately, so urgently. She bit his bottom lip and sucked on his tongue, making him growl and buck into her harder.

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