Page 15 of Dancing With Delusion

I ignore him, slipping my fingers through my wet folds and allowing my head to fall back in pleasure. I feel him stand over me, and then his hands grip the waist of my jeans and he pulls them down my thighs, leaving them at my ankles.

He watches as my busy fingers work fast. “Let me taste,” he commands. I drag my fingers from myself and hold them out to him. He grabs my wrist in a firm hold, and I watch as his tongue darts out to lick the wetness away. He slides my fingers into his mouth, and while I’m distracted, he takes the material of my lace underwear in his hands and snaps them from me. Soon, I’ll have none left.

Dmitry lifts me from the desk and turns me away from him. He places his hand between my shoulder blades and bends me over the desk. I curl my fingers over the edge, bracing myself for whatever he decides to do to me next. “You’ll count out loud and thank me for each strike.”

My breathing hitches at his words as he kicks my legs apart. “What’s your safe word, Victoria?”

“Distraction.”

He surprises me when his hand comes down heavy on my backside. He’s not holding back, and I squeeze my eyes closed as the sting brings me to the brink of tears. I’ve been wanting this for too long, and now it’s happening, I’m overwhelmed. “One. Thank you, Sir,” I whisper. The next comes on my last word and I almost scream out in surprise. “Two. Thank you, Sir.”

“Red . . . just the colour I love on you,” he murmurs, rubbing his hand over my sore skin.

The next slap isn’t so bad as my arse is numb where he’s hitting the same spot. “Three. Thank you, Sir.” Strike four. “Four. Thank you, Sir.”

“I’m running out of time and my office door isn’t locked,” he says, striking me a fifth time.

“Five,” I yell. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Fuck it,” he says, and I hear his belt buckle as he unfastens it.

He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head back so I’m staring at the office door. “Can you come quickly, Victoria?” he asks, pushing his cock into me.

I shudder at the intrusion. “Yes, Sir.”

“If I come first, you’ll miss out,” he says, sliding from me before pushing back in. Dmitry takes hold of my hips and begins slamming into me at a punishing pace. The sting on my backside causes swirls of pleasure each time he brushes against it until I’m crying out in ecstasy. I shudder uncontrollably, enjoying every second of my release . . . finally.

Dmitry follows me over the edge, grunting as he spills into me.

He stills, his heavy breaths filling the silence. “That’s my good little krasota,” he murmurs, pulling from me. He places a hand to my back, keeping me bent over while he rubs his other hand between my legs, gathering his cum and rubbing it into my inner thighs. “Do not shower. I want you to smell of me until this evening, when we have dinner together.”

I stand, pulling my clothes into place. “So romantic,” I tease.

He grins, tucking himself away, and then he presses me against the desk and kisses me until my toes are curling.

“Dmitry,” comes Vivian’s shrill voice as the door opens, and I feel him sag in irritation. “Oh, I didn’t realise you had company,” she mutters as we pull apart.

I glare at him, and he has the decency to look sorry. “Really?” I hiss.

“Business,” he says quietly, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Just business.”

I go to leave, noting the way Vivian looks me up and down with disdain. “Are you feeling better after your embarrassing little outburst the other night?” she asks with a smirk.

“Vivian,” Dmitry says, his tone warning.

She holds her hands up, still wearing that stupid grin. “Sorry, I’m just asking. How did your father take it?” She sounds amused as she steps farther into the office.

I get to the door, turning back just as she’s standing on her tiptoes to place a kiss on Dmitry’s cheek. I arch a brow, and he catches it, gently guiding her from his space and offering her an awkward smile. She rests her backside against the desk. “Oh, I wouldn’t sit there,” I say, and Dmitry gives me a warning look. “We literally just fucked over the desk,” I continue, ignoring him.

Vivian immediately moves from the surface, rubbing her hands down her pencil skirt. I smile, then leave. Bitch.

Dmitry

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Vivian says, turning her back to me and waiting for me to remove her jacket. I hang it over the chair, and she takes a seat. There’s an air about her, something different, but I can’t put my finger on it. “Now that I’ve had a chance to process everything, I’m ready to discuss business.”

I take a seat. “Of course. But a little warning—don’t enter my office without knocking again.” I open my laptop. “I assume all your father’s legitimate businesses will go directly to you or your mother?” She gives a nod. She’d already mentioned selling them, but now I have the underground shit, I don’t need anything from her. “And I own a fifty percent share in V’s.” The bar he named after his daughter was a new venture for him. He wanted my input, and I agreed, in exchange for half the business. I use it to clean the dirty money I make, and it would be a hassle to let it go. “I’m happy to buy you out,” I add.

“If we’d gotten married like we agreed, all of this would now be yours.”

---