Page 23 of Vasily the Hammer

“You fucking love that, don’t you, baby?”

My core clenches, but I can’t give him those words. I refuse to admit that I want them to be looking. I don’t want them to be looking. No way.

I pull my panties down, deliberately tugging from the sides so they’ll get hung up on my ass for a moment before snapping down to the backs of my thighs. For my husband. That’s it. This is for him.

Vasily mutters a low, gravelly curse as I lean down, way down, to lower them to the floor. “A show for me, as well?” he chuckles, but his voice is so deliciously husky, and the accent breaking through his polished exterior does all kinds of things to make me wonder if I was so vapid in my past life that I would have married a man for his hotness and his accent alone.

If I was nineteen, the short answer is yes.

Vasily walks up behind me. No, not walks.Prowls. Once he enters the stream of light and his face is illuminated enough that I can make out his reflection, I see that he is a predator, and I am his prey. If I ran now, would he chase after me? If I walked out the main door of the office, into what I can only assume is the rest of the corporate offices for his company, would he catch me before I could get out of his office? Or would he walk slowly, like a horror movie villain, making it clear to all his coworkers that I was about to get the best sex of my life?

I’m practically panting at the thought. My skin goes all flushed and tingly.

Dang, I guess I am a freak.

“Baby, you’re making a mess of your thighs,” Vasily drawls as his heat warms up my back, although he’s still fully dressed. Not nearly how I want him.

I want to have sex with my husband.

I try to spin so I can get more adamant about removing his layers, but he grabs me by the waist, all but forcing me to lean into that glass, and lifts one of my legs by the knee, anchoring my foot on the armrest of the chair that’s next to me.

Anyone who happens to look out right now will see my entire pussy, clean shaven and fully bared, my folds spread wide open for them. And I’m not sure if that’s hotter or if it’s the way Vasily just manipulated me like I’m nothing more than a doll.

“Do you want my cock?” Vasily asks, his voice right against my ear, keeping himself hidden behind me because this is my show, not his.

I rely on his strong hands to protect me from losing my balance as I grind my ass against him, the way he’s got me propped up compensating for how much shorter than him I am. I feel his cock line up along my ass, I feel how hard it is. I feel the tremor that runs through him despite how steady he attempts to hold himself.

“Please,” I whisper, my tone making it clear how needy I am. “I missed your cock.”

“Oh?”

I look up at him, biting my lip deliberately this time, hopefully to entice him. “Uh huh. I haven’t seen your cock in at least three days. I’m practically dying here.”

He drones a long, low, “Fuuuuuuuuck, baby. You’re still the biggest fucking slut for me, aren’t you?”

I beam at him because I know that, even though hisbabysounds forced, hisslutis a compliment. Plus, the arm that was around my waist has mysteriously slid up my torso, and now the stiff fabric of his suit jacket’s sleeve is just close enough to my breasts that with each breath, my nipples tease over it. “Only for you,” I promise him as I take another big breath.

He gets a wicked gleam in his eye. “Don’t you forget that. Now be a good girl and stroke your pretty little cunt until you come, and I’ll reward you with my cock, okay?”

I blink like I didn’t hear that correctly. I grind more emphatically against him like he’ll have a change of heart. I even try to guide that arm back down so he can feel how badly I want him now.

I want my husband.

I want the release I think only he can give me.

Feverishly, I get this fantasy that my husband’s cock is the key to this lock in my brain, and I just need him to fill me for my memories to come back. Because clearly this is where our compatibility lies. I have a lot of doubts about our marriage, a lot of questions he’s dodged that make it obvious we don’t have a great relationship, but I know this part really works.

He steps back again.

“No, Ana. You need to earn this. You show everyone how you like to touch your pussy and how wet you can get yourself, and you’ll be rewarded. That’s how this works.”

I don’t think it is, but I close my eyes. With one arm on the glass to balance myself, I drop my other hand to between my legs.

I’m sensitive. Not sure how long it’s been since I’ve been touched here, but my first tentative brush over my clit has a shiver racing through me and a soft squeak passing through my lips.

Vasily is equally soft with his “that’s it, sweetheart. Right there.”

Ooh.That sounded nice, like a verbal caress. Like his hand is right here with mine as I brush myself again, this time putting a light, exploratory spin on it. Sparks tingle in my core and my brain.

---