Page 109 of Wicked Proposal
Then he slips his fingers between my legs.
I toss my head back. “Yulian, wait—” I’m trapped against the sink with no way out. My hand curls against his eight-pack, tense and taut through the clothes. “This is a bad idea. We shouldn’t?—”
“Should’ve thought of that before you flashed me,kotyonok.”
“It was an accid—ahh?—!”
He’s so rough with it. So rough withme.I can feel every ridge of his calloused fingers on my clit, torturing it to madness, moving quick and sharp against it.
It shouldn’t feel good, but fuck me if it isn’t the hottest thing in the world.
Shit, do I have a caveman kink?
“So naughty,” he growls into my ear. His free hand cups my breast, squeezing it hard. “You think you can just tug on the leash all you want, hm? That it won’t fucking snap?”
“N-no,” I gasp. There’s something absurdly hot about this—me begging him to stop, even as my hips roll into his touch with every stroke. Because the truth is, I don’t want him to stop. “Please, I?—”
“Tell me to let you go,” he snarls. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
I can’t.He just started touching me, but I’m already so close, it’s unreal.
“Yulian…”
“Say the word,kotyonok,” he demands. “Or else I’ll keep going until you scream.”
I open my mouth. Whether to moan or to stop him, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter how badly I want it: if I let it happen, it’ll end in disaster.
Just like last time.
But then, just as I’m about to find my voice?—
“Mr. Lozhkin?” a feminine voice calls, knocking a few times on the door. “I’ve got an urgent delivery for you from Mr. Goncharov.”
Yulian’s fingers slip from me. I mourn them immediately.
“Fuck,” he curses, pulling away. “Time’s up, kitten. Your dress is here.”
Then he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.
My head spins.
He leaves me there, naked and panting against the sink. Like he didn’t just throw my world into disarray again. Like he didn’t just almost make me come.
I stay there, trembling, catching my breath, until I feel like I can walk again.
Then I pick up Yulian’s bathrobe and head into the bedroom.
My dress is already laid on the bed. It’s another stunning piece, just like the one he sent a couple of days ago to my place: a black, tight-fitting bodycon dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, just classy enough to whisper “business” instead of screaming “whore.”
Only…
“There’s no underwear,” I note.
He just shrugs. Completely unrepentant. “Pity.”
My face catches on fire. On one hand, I’m glad Maksim didn’t have to go rummaging through my panty drawers, but on the other hand…
“So you just want me to?—?”
