Page 184 of Wicked Proposal
“Please,” I gasp. “Touch me.”
He doesn’t. Not with his hands, at least. “Patience, kitten.” He rolls his hips against mine, so slow I could miss it if I wasn’t this keyed up. But I am, and the feeling of his clothed cock rubbing against me drives me fucking wild.
“Patience,” my ass.
When the doors slide open, we don’t even look where we’re going—he just carries me out of here and into his penthouse.
It takes us a couple of moments longer to realize it’snothis penthouse.
“Blyat’,” Yulian curses, glaring at the desk and bookshelves. “Wrong floor.”
I glance around. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else, the whole floor made up like a large, empty study. “Where are we?”
“My office.”
He starts heading back for the elevator, but I stop him. “No,” I whisper, tugging at the lapels of his jacket impatiently. “I need you now.”
A wicked glint appears in his eye. “What happened to patience?”
“It died. Funeral’s tomorrow.” I grab his face with both hands. “Now, fuck me.”
His gaze goes dark, liquid. “Have it your way.”
Then he throws me on the desk.
Okay, maybe “throw” isn’t the right word. It doesn’t hurt—his hand is at the back of my head, and the fall isn’t too steep—butfuckif it doesn’t feel like he just grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into a cave to have his way with me.
In other words:Hot. As. Fuck.
I stare up at him, my skirts bunched up at my waist, my breasts half-spilling from the plunging cleavage of this dress. Yulian, on the other hand, is still impeccably dressed.
Somehow, that offends me personally. “Take off your clothes.”
“You don’t give the orders here, kitten.” He gathers my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head. “That’s not the way this works.”
His free hand slides down my body, stopping to tease one stiff nipple through the fabric. The sensation is electric, and I let out a little cry, arching into his palm.
I can practically feel him smirking down at me. He pinches the nipple through the fabric of my dress, twisting until a sharp, delicious pain shoots down to my clit.
Fuck. I want him now. No—Ineedhim.
My legs part wider, begging for his touch, but he doesn’t give it. Not yet.
Instead, he keeps playing with my breasts, his deft fingers making quick work of my dress. He pushes down a shoulder strap, then the other.
Just like that, cold air hits my naked nipples.
He stares down at my bare breasts, his eyes burning with want. Withneed.
He wants me. He wants me as badly as I want him.
Not just today—forever.
He bends his head to my chest, licking and sucking until I’m writhing on the desk beneath him. Until I’m going insane with pleasure. My wrists are still caught in his grip, and fuck if it’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever done. I can feel the wetness building between my legs, feel my inner muscles clenching on nothing.
If he doesn’t fuck me within the next five minutes, I might actually die.
Eventually, he releases me.
