Page 74 of Dance of Devils
“Yes!” I whine, my whole body beginning to seize up. “Yes, sir!”
“Then be a good girl,” he murmurs, tugging my hair and ramming his fingers into my pussy, filling the practice studio with lewd, wet sounds. “Come for me.”
Jesus…
It hits me like a bomb detonating. I choke, my back arching as my coreexplodeswith the violent carnage of my release. The orgasm twists and rampages though me, curling my toes and wringing my whole body out as I scream and come hard against his fingers.
I lie there panting and shaking on his thighs as Kir slowly strokes his fingers in and out of my quivering, spasming pussy, before slowly he draws them out.
“Stand up.”
I’m still shaking all over, my legs barely working and my grip on reality only very loose. I hold his thigh unsteadily, pushing myself up until I’m standing again.
My face is crimson. My whole body is still throbbing and clenching. Slick wetness coats my thighs as I reach down to pull my shorts back up.
“Next time, Ms. Ellis,” Kir purrs quietly as he stands up to loom over me. He reaches out, cupping my jaw with his hand and lifting my gaze to his. “Leave the attitude at the door. You will do what I say, when and how I say to do it. If you don’t, you will be punished again. Do you understand?”
I nod quickly, lowering my eyes as heat throbs inside me.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
Fuck. Me.
Slowly, Kir brings his hand—the one that spanked me and brought me to orgasm all over his fingers—up to his mouth. My eyes widen as he captures them with his, never blinking, never looking away as he wraps his lips around his fingers andsucks.
My mouth is still hanging open as he slowly slips his wet fingers from his lips.
“You may go now, Ms. Ellis.”
16
KIR
Understatement of the fucking century:I’ve crossed a major, serious line when it comes to Brooklyn.
Doing what I did that night when I saw those four motherfuckers trying to rape her was one thing. OfcourseI stopped it. What I do for a living notwithstanding, I’m not a psychopath.
I saw a young woman who needed help, and I stepped in.
Taking her home was the logical extension of that help, when it became clear she needed medical attention but didn’t want the authorities involved. That I could understand.
It’s everythingafterthat which becomes…a gray area.
MaybeI could lie to myself and say that I’ve been coaching her because even though I know there’s no spot for her inImperiya Korona—because it's earmarked for Inessa Moskovic—maybeif she achieves perfection, Ivan will find room for her, thus realizing her dream.
I could also say my interest in her—looking into where she lives, works, her financial situation— extends past dance and comes from a place of me wanting to be a Good Samaritan.
But there’s nothing noble about my growing obsession with Brooklyn.
…I think what happened the other night is a pretty clear indicator of that.
It's not that I merely want to help her. I want to know more about her. I see a sadness in her that makes me want to lift her out of her situation, whatever it may be, and surround her in safety and comfort. I want to wash the grime from under her nails and drape her in finery.
But also, I want to fuck her on silk sheets with her tight cunt strangling my cock.
Shit.
