Page 37 of Twisted Pact
“Then get on your knees and convince me.”
11
Mila
I can’t believe I’m considering this.
My knees hit the hardwood floor before my brain fully realizes what I’m doing. Alexei stands in front of me with an infuriating smirk on his face, and I hate him. Hate that he’s making me do this. Hate that part of me wants to do it anyway.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I tell him.
“Keep telling yourself that, Zaika.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“We’ve already established that.” He reaches down and cups my chin, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. “Show me how badly you want my help.”
I reach for his belt buckle with shaking hands. This is insane. Degrading. Exactly the kind of power play I’ve spent weeks resisting. But Irina’s face flashes through my mind. My nephew’s tiny features. The thought of them dead because I was too proud to bend.
The buckle comes undone. I move to his zipper next.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I do. His blue-gray eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly.
“Yes, I do.”
“No. You don’t. I’ll help your sister regardless.”
I freeze with my hand on his zipper. “What?”
“I’m going to help her, Mila. I just wanted to see if you’d go through with it.”
Fury explodes through me. I yank his zipper down hard enough to make him wince. “You son of a bitch. I want you to suffer.”
“Then make me.”
I pull his cock free and wrap my hand around the base. He’s already hard. Already leaking from the tip. The weight of him in my palm sends heat and moisture gathering between my legs despite my anger.
He’s huge. Thick enough that my fingers barely meet around him. The memory of how he felt inside me three weeks ago makes my core clench.
“You like this,” I accuse. “You like having me on my knees.”
“I’d like you anywhere. But this is a particularly good view.”
I stroke him and watch his jaw clench with the effort of staying still. His hips twitch forward like his body wants what his mind is trying to control.
“How do I make this good for you?” I ask.
“You’ve never done this before?”
“Shut up and just tell me what you like.”
Something crosses his face. Surprise maybe, or satisfaction. “Start slow. Use your tongue. Pay attention to what makes me react.”
I lean forward and lick the tip. He tastes like salt and musk and something uniquely him. His hips jerk forward involuntarily.
