Page 27 of Wicked Arrangement

He lifts me off him and I feel momentarily worried he’s going to stop altogether, leaving me aching. But he turns me around, ripping the panties off me with one quick tug–I’m going to need more underwear if he keeps ripping them off me like this. He then sits me back down on his lap, guiding his cock into me from behind. I start to grind on him, enjoying the new sensation but unsure quite how to do it.

I’ve heard of reverse cowgirl but haven’t ever tried it before. With few guys I’ve slept with the sex wasn’t adventurous. I lost my virginity to my high school boyfriend, and we only ever had missionary sex, and I never once came with him. After that, I had a couple of drunken one-night stands which were unsatisfying and left me feeling ashamed and disappointed. Since then, I’ve been too busy working and taking care of my gran to think about dating. Safe to say, having sex with Yaroslav has opened up a whole new world of possibility.

After a moment, Yaroslav changes position again. This time getting me to kneel on the chair and lean over the back of it so he can stand and fuck me from behind. Now with complete control, he slowly builds the pace, thrusting in and out of my soaking wet pussy getting faster and harder. The sex is far dirtier, both literally and figuratively speaking, than I’ve ever experienced, and I find myself loving it and wanting more.

“Oh my god, fuck yes!” I scream, unable to hold back as he slams inside me my ass slapping noisily against him.

“You like it rough do you,koketka?”he purrs.

“Mmm, yes,” I admit, surprised to find how much I’m enjoying it.

He lightly places a hand on my neck, pulling me closer to him so I’m almost standing upright. From this angle, he feels huge, and I think I could cum again. The sharp sting of a spank on my ass takes me by surprise but the pain is quickly outweighed by pleasure as he thrusts into me. He alternates, spanking and fucking me until I’m so wet that my juices are running down my thighs. I cum, over and over, screaming out, not caring who hears me I’m so lost in the moment. He fucks me until I feel like my legs might buckle out from under me, I’m so overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Cum for me, Yaroslav,” I pant, wanting him to experience the same pleasure he makes me feel.

It’s all the encouragement he needs, he finally lets himself go, thrusting harder and faster as he brings himself to climax. I cry out in pleasure reaching yet another climax myself as I feel him pumping inside me, cumming.

“Fuck, Kimberly, what are you doing to me?” he groans.

I could say the same for him. What is it about Yaroslav that has me willfully submitting to his control?

Chapter 15

Yaroslav

It’s been three days since the visit to Kim’s apartment. Since then, I’ve been busy with work, so we’ve barely spent any time together. The only times I have seen her, I’ve been unable to stop myself from making advances and so we spend the time together fucking. Not that I’m complaining, the sex is incredible, but I can tell Kim is feeling a little bored and restless, cooped up inside with no one to keep her company. I’ve seen her trying to befriend the staff, but most of them are so scared of me that they wouldn’t dare get close to a woman I’m dating. Not that Kim and I are dating, of course.

We’re almost halfway through the agreed two weeks and already I’m hoping I can convince her to stay longer. I tell myself that this is because we’ve spent so much time fucking I’ve barely spoken to her, which means I’m no closer to knowing for certain if she had any involvement with the attempt on my life. Which is why I decided to invite her to the party I must attend tonight. Thomas Gillihan invited me and all of the biggest players in the south will be there, if she knows anyone it should be easy to spot. And, if not, then at the very least, she will enjoy getting out of the house.

Just as I’m beginning to worry we’ll be late, Kim comes walking down the stairs. She’s a vision in a gold floor-length dress that hugs her curves so perfectly it looks like it’s been painted on. The entire dress is heavily embellished in beading with a tantalizing sheerness to it. She has on complementing gold-toned makeup and is sporting a new hairstyle. Her maneof curls has been tamed into long, thick braids with golden highlights that hang down to her waist.

She sees me standing gawping at her beauty and gives me a small smile. She stops in front of me, doing a little twirl that reveals that the dress plunges at the back as well as the front.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“You look incredible, I’m going to have to fight the other men off you,” I reply truthfully, trying to squash the urge to carry her back upstairs and ravage her, skipping the party entirely.

She giggles, evidently thinking I’m joking. I only hope I won’t need to break any hands tonight and that the men at the party have enough sense not to touch what’s mine. “You look pretty handsome yourself,” she replies, admiring my tuxedo.

“Shall we?” I ask, offering my arm for her to hold.

She nods, taking it and responding gratefully, “Thanks, you might need to prop me up all night, these heels might look pretty but they are not easy to walk in!”

“Oh don’t worry, I have no intention of letting you leave my side tonight,” I promise.

***

The party is in full swing when we arrive and for once, I’m not the star attraction for everyone. All eyes are on Kim. The men look like they want to devour her, and the women make no effort to hide their jealousy and curiosity over Yaroslav Volkov’s latest conquest. I’ve attended these events with a string of beautiful, vapid women on my arm, most of whom I canbarely remember. Kim is different, she lights up the room and yet seems to be oblivious to the attention she’s getting.

“Why is everyone looking at you?” she whispers.

“It’s not me they’re looking at,” I reply truthfully, enjoying how her cheeks flush with embarrassment at that.

Kim seems overwhelmed and awed by the opulent setting, her eyes roaming around as she takes in the huge marble and gold ballroom, the impeccably dressed guests, and the obscene array of food on the buffet table. A waiter walks past with flutes of champagne, and I grab us a couple.

Kimberly takes hers from me gratefully, “Thanks. I think I need some Dutch courage,” she says, taking a swig.

“You’ll be fine. By the looks of it, everyone is already dying to meet you, so you’ll have plenty of people to meet,” I state.

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