Page 38 of Dancing With Desire

When he realises where I’m headed, he slows. “Victoria,” he barks, but I continue without missing a step. If he won’t touch me, there’s a whole room of toys that’ll satisfy me. “Victoria, you will not go in that room,” he bellows.

“Fuck you, Dmitry,” I singsong.

I throw the door to the dungeon open and immediately relax. Stepping inside, I go over to the cabinet that houses a range of vibrators. I feel Dmitry standing in the doorway, watching. I glance back over my shoulder, smirking at his annoyed expression. “You brought this on yourself,” I say, opening the cabinet and running my hand over the largest dildo he owns.

“Don’t even think about it,” he snaps.

I grin, moving down the sizes until I find one less aggressive. I take it from the shelf and open the box. “Does Sir approve?” I ask, holding it up.

He strides over, snatching it from me and gripping my jaw roughly. “It’s not safe,” he hisses.

“I’ve Googled it, and it’s safe. You’re nowhere near the baby.” I run my hands over his chest, sliding downwards and brushing over his erection. I arch a brow. “It’s been too long, Dmitry.”

“A few more days,” he whispers.

I shake my head. “Now.” I slip the robe from me, letting it pool at my feet. I take his hand and place it over my breast. “Last chance before I kick you out of here and spend the entire day alone . . . just me and all this.” I wave my hand around.

He throws the vibrator to the floor and slides a hand into my hair. “We go slow,” he hisses, leading me towards the bed, “and gentle.”

I stareup at the ceiling, smiling. My backside stings in that delicious way that makes me want to do the last hour all over again. Dmitry rubs his freshly showered hair with a towel. “Satisfied?” he asks, arching a brow.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy every second,” I retort, pulling the sheets around myself. He stuck to his word, and we went gentle and slow, but my smart mouth got me a few slaps on the backside. I smile at the memory.

His phone rings out, ruining the moment, and I roll my eyes as he takes it from the side to check the caller. “Marshall,” he answers. “I’m running late. I’ll be—” He pauses, frowning, then his eyes fall to me. “Right. Erm, get Leo to reschedule my day.Send my apologies to Marco and explain it was unavoidable. We’ll see you shortly.”

I sit up, alarmed by his sudden serious tone. “What is it?”

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “When was the last time you saw your parents?”

I shrug. “When I last went home over a year ago.”

“They’re here, in London.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“They called Phoebe this morning after being unable to locate you at your old place.”

I scramble to my feet, snatching my robe and pulling it on. “My phone is upstairs,” I say, heading for the door. “They must have been calling me.”

Dmitry takes my wrist, gently halting me. “Take a breath, Victoria.” I do, even though my heart is racing and I’m shaking. “It’s just your parents,” he adds, forcing a smile. “And it’s probably time they met me.”

I shake my head. “No, that can’t happen.”

He frowns. “We’re getting married, mykrasota. I need to speak to your father and?—”

“No,” I snap, pulling free. “I’m going to call them now and arrange to meet them somewhere . . . alone. They’ll probably be wondering where their golden boy’s gone.” I march from the dungeon, heading for the stairs as Dmitry follows. “I need to get rid of them.”

I take the stairs two at a time and head straight for the bedroom, rushing into my wardrobe and searching through the ridiculous amount of clothes that Dmitry has stashed away here. I groan. Nothing is suitable. Dmitry lingers in the doorway. “Nothing to wear?” he muses.

I narrow my eyes. “Maybe you could be useful and get my phone.” He produces it from his pocket. “Why do you have it?” I ask accusingly.

“It’s pointless calling them,” he says, ignoring my question. “They’re on their way here.”

My mouth drops open, and I stare wide-eyed. “What?”

“Marshall collected them and he’s on his way with them.”

“Why . . . why would he do that?”

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