Page 82 of For a Price

Our next kiss is our most passionate yet. The game of Bura is completely forgotten about as Roman slips me under him on the sofa and then pushes his tongue into my mouth. He strips off my panties as I spread my legs and wrap my fingers around his dick. I guide him to my entrance, a wave of tingles passing over me at the feel of him sliding inside.

He brings me a fullness I’ve never known.

Hot, pulsing pleasure spreads through me with every drag of his hips.

Every deep thrust of his dick as he sinks into me. I wrap my arms and legs around his broad, muscled form and hold onto him as his mouth covers mine and he rocks his hips just right.

His breathing goes ragged. The beastly sound rumbles out of him and turns me on even more.

I’m aware he’s about to come before he does by how he groans and pumps harder.

My pussy tingles as my orgasm crashes down on me in the same moment his does. We come together in a mix of throaty cries and pants for air.

Roman nuzzles my neck and then buries his face into the crook he finds there. I run my fingers through his hair and listen to his heart thumping against mine.

I told him what I heard and he understood.

He encouraged me to do so.

The relief that pours over me is so intense, I can only smile. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so… heard.

So believed.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so close to another human being as I’ve felt with Roman…

Polina is absent from the penthouse over the next few days. She’s nowhere to be found, and when I ask another staff member like Edik, I’m given a blank stare before he changes the subject.

I’m left to wonder what happened to the testy brunette.

Maybe it’s like in the movies—once you piss off or betray the mob, you’re done for.

You’re whacked.

…or whatever the Russian equivalent would be.

Roman takes my mind off the mystery of Polina a few evenings later with a surprise outing. My first official outing since I arrived at his penthouse.

“A date?” I smirk.

“You deserve a night in the city. I’ve been meaning to take you for a while now. But work…”

I’m dressed to the nines with my curls popping when Roman offers me his arm and leads me downstairs in the elevator.

A town car awaits, the driver opening the rear door for us.

We go to the fanciest restaurant I’ve ever been to in my life. The kind of place where they give you three different forks and serve you several coursesbeforethe main course.

It’s a French restaurant with a title I can barely pronounce.

Bouchon.

Roman laughs as I pick up what I later learn is a salad fork and eye it like it’s a foreign object. It basically is for a stray like me.

More often than not, even havingonefork to eat with was considered a luxury.

Let alone an entire selection.

“You look so beautiful, kitty cat… yet so clueless,” he says.

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