Page 17 of Wicked Arrangement

He moves harder and faster and I can feel yet another orgasm building up.

“I’m gonna cum,” I moan as my pussy spasms against him.

“Yes, cum for me,” he grunts.

I allow myself to let go feeling the orgasm tear through me again as he too climaxes inside of me, the sensation of it making me cum again right away. He stays there for a moment, as I pant breathless and spent, before pulling out of me. We both flop onto the bed side by side, sweaty and content.

“Wow, that was…” I start, unsure of what to say.

“Amazing?” he adds, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Well, yes, that too, but I was going to say, unexpected,” I reply, turning on my side to face him.

“How so?” he asks, turning to look at me, a small frown on his forehead. “You didn’t think I would be good in bed?”

“No, not that. I just wasn’t expecting you to walk into my room without knocking, and certainly not while I was, well… you know,” I say, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

The frown deepens and he looks confused. “Kimberly, you’re in my room…”

My eyes widen and I prop myself up on one elbow, “I’m sorry, what?” I ask in surprise.

“This is my room, yours is the mirror suite on the other side of the building,” he explains, a small smirk of amusement on his lips.

“Oh my god,” I groan in embarrassment. “So I got the room wrong?”

“It would appear so,” he says, not seeming too bothered by that. “And here’s me thinking that little show was to get my attention and seduce me,” he teases.

“Well, it worked, even though I most certainly wasn’t expecting you,” I concede.

“But you wanted me,” he points out.

“Yes, but you must have wanted me too,” I add.

“I did. In fact, I think I would like some more of you very soon,” he says with a slow sexy grin.

“I think that can be arranged.”

Maybe staying here for a couple of weeks won’t be so bad after all…

Chapter 10

Kimberly

Yesterday has to be one of the most incredible and surreal days of my life. Not only did Yaroslav completely wipe my hospital debts, but he’s promised to pay for my grandmother to stay in the best respite care home in the city once she’s discharged, and to cover any loss of earnings over the next two weeks I’m here. Supposedly both of my workplaces were happy for me to take two ‘well-earned’ weeks off. I have no idea how he managed that, since both of my bosses are assholes who would normally fire me for even wanting more than a couple of days off on short notice.

All of that is incredible enough, but then if you add in the sex, it takes it to the next surreal level. I didn’t think sex could be that amazing. I lost count of the number of orgasms I had last night after the first time. Eventually, when we were both spent, we ventured downstairs for some food. Prepared for us by the in-house chef of course. It blows my mind that anyone actually lives like this, that I’m not somehow in some fantasy land.

We talked briefly over dinner, and I discovered a bit more about him. He was born in Russia, as I suspected, but has been here for the past seven years. He described himself as a businessman but was vague about what exactly he does, just stating he was the head of a family import and export business. I was surprised to hear he’s seventeen years older than me too. He looks good for a man in his late thirties.

After our food, by mutual silent agreement, we went to bed in our separate rooms. I don’t think either of us is readyfor that kind of intimacy yet. Plus, I was worried Yaroslav would want to have sex again, the man has the stamina of a beast, and I was exhausted.

After waking late following the best night’s sleep I’ve had since… well since I can remember, I awoke stupidly late at half past ten to a knock on my door, it was the maid delivering breakfast. Flaky croissants and pastries, cereal, an array of fresh fruit, freshly squeezed orange juice, and hot freshly brewed coffee that was the best I’ve ever had. A girl could get used to this.

I take my time eating and luxuriate in a long bubble bath before finally perusing the wardrobe and the selection of clothing that supposedly someone went out to get for me yesterday after I agreed to stay.

Clearly, whoever was assigned the task has never heard of the term, less is more. They must have a serious shopping addiction, there’s more clothing in here than anyone could possibly need for just two weeks. There are items for any eventuality, daywear, eveningwear, workout clothing, smart clothing, swimwear, even freaking ballgowns. And don’t even get me started on the shoes, bags, and accessories! Miraculously, they’re all in my size too. I don’t even want to think about how this was pulled off in just one day.

Feeling overwhelmed, I pull out a pair of distressed jeans and an orange puff-sleeved top that suits my skin tone. I throw on a pair of white sneakers and a small amount of makeup from the impressive array provided. I’m amazed that someone has gone to the effort of finding several options of foundation and concealer that work for my skin tone, not an easy task. The outfit sounds simple enough, but I wince at the price tags andcontemplate taking everything off and trying to find the clothes I came in. Everything is designer, and the entire outfit would cost me well over a month’s wage.

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