Page 73 of Preferential Treatment

“They’ll have to drag my desiccated corpse out of the CEO’s office,” Mikhail told her. “And as for the billions… aren’t you the woman who claimed she could ruin me?”

Kate gave him that curling, feral little smile he loved so much. “Are you saying I couldn’t?”

“There’s still plenty of time for you to try.” He stepped closer, tilting his chin down as Kate tilted hers up, bringing them face to face. “You don’t like billionaires, Katya? Here’s your chance to get rid of at least one of us.”

“Hmmm… I do like a challenge. And since I’m unemployed right now, it’ll give me something to do with my time.”

“Ruining me will be a full-time job,” he promised. Mikhail had considered, from time to time, establishing a foundation that funded charities and causes that were of interest to him. Promoting STEM education in impoverished communities. Scholarships. Financial aid for immigrant students. But doing such a thing would require him to spell out those interests to another person—to make himself vulnerable in a way that he just wasn’t capable of. And so nothing had ever been established.

Until Katya. She knew his every weakness. Knew the shape and depth of his damage, and could be trusted to navigate it. He didn’t dare bring up the idea of an actual salaried job just now, but someday soon, when they were on stable footing, and her trust in him was iron-clad, he’d ask her to run the foundation. Her analytical, organized brain would be excellent at it. And she would enjoy trying to bleed him dry.

But for now, he just needed to be with her. To hold her, feel her, care for her. With her face still tilted up to his, he bent down and kissed her. It was soft and sweet and light. He had never kissed anyone this way, never been kissed like this. It stripped him raw, this simple touch, but he savored the burn, because it came from her. Katya. His knyazhna.

EPILOGUE

“Agh, please, knyazhna!”

“Sorry, but you brought this on yourself.” She slid her bare foot up his shaft, pressing the sensitive head firmly to his stomach. He lay on his side at her feet, on the floor of his office in the Domovoy building. He was mostly dressed, except for his trousers which had been unzipped and tugged down his thighs, and his necktie, which was currently keeping his wrists tied behind his back.

“I’m going to come,” he gritted out as she teased the head of his cock.

“You better not.” She slid her foot back down, applying threatening pressure to his balls.

He panted and groaned, writhing restlessly. Her foot pressed down a little harder.

“Hold still.”

He froze, except for the tremor that ran through every straining muscle.

“Now, about that ten million—”

“For politicians!” he spat out, unable to contain himself.

She pressed harder on his balls, making him grunt, his hips rocking back, away from the punishing pressure.

“For several super-PACs and some worthwhile candidates who are dedicated to overturning Citizens United,” she explained patiently.

“I thought you wanted me to be able to use my unfair wealth to influence politics for the better,” he said between panting breaths.

“If we can get you and the rest of your ilk out of politics entirely, I’ll hardly need your influence.”

“‘Hardly’?” he echoed, more confident than he had any right to be. “So you’ll still need me.”

He yelped at the sudden buzz against his prostate. He’d forgotten about the plug.

“Don’t get cocky,” Kate said. She smiled as he writhed beneath her, begging for mercy.

“Stop, I’m going to come! Please, knyazhna, I can’t—ah—no, no, no—” The first pulse of climax had him doubling over, groaning. Kate immediately cut the vibrations from the plug and pulled her foot away from his sac, stealing all the sensation so that he felt nothing but pulsing contractions in his core, the wet seep of come spilling from his cock. He swore viciously in English, Russian, and every other language he knew.

The pleasureless, pointless orgasm came to a weak finish, and he sagged against the floor, groaning and gasping for breath.

“Oh no,” Kate said with wicked amusement. “Look at the disgusting mess you made. You know what that means. Lick it up.”

“Knyazhna, please, no.”

“Then release the funds.”

He lay there, deliberating. Obedience or punishment? Today, obedience won out. “Fine,” he growled. “The money’s yours.”

---