Page 29 of Her Viking Lord
“I wouldn’t know,” Takken replied, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. “I haven’t fucked her in over a year.”
“Interesting.” Another pause, then: “Touch her cunt. I want to see just how wet she’s gotten from this.”
I felt Takken’s finger slide along my slit, gathering the mortifying evidence of my arousal. When he held his glistening finger up to the camera, Horakovsky laughed.
“The little slut is dripping,” he said with satisfaction. “She wants to be owned properly, doesn’t she? Tell me, Norquist—does yourwife think I’m going to treat her differently from what I do to my special girls?”
“She witnessed your discipline of them at our last meeting,” Takken said carefully.
“And she enjoyed the show, didn’t she?”
I couldn’t see Takken’s face, but I heard the calculation in his voice when he answered. “She came while your girl serviced her. Harder than I’ve ever seen, just like I told you.”
“Perfect.” Horakovsky’s voice had taken on a predatory edge. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to send her to me. She’ll wear only a coat—nothing underneath. I want to be certain there are no recording devices, no tricks.”
“Where?” Takken asked.
“The Rikhard Hotel, presidential suite. Tomorrow evening. Five o’clock.”
CHAPTER 16
Lorna
My pulse thundered in my ears as I rode up to the hotel penthouse the next evening. I wore nothing beneath the long cashmere coat, just as Horakovsky had commanded. Every movement of the fabric against my bare skin sent shivers through me, reminding me of my vulnerability, my exposure. To my horror, I could feel my thighs becoming slick with nervous arousal by the time the elevator chimed its arrival at the top floor.
The doors slid open to reveal one of Horakovsky’s bodyguards—the same man I’d noticed at the Synergy Group meeting, with the Cyrillic tattoo creeping up his neck. His dead eyes swept over me once, assessing, before he stepped aside.
“Inside,” he grunted in heavily accented English.
My legs trembled as I stepped out of the elevator and into the suite. The space was massive, furnished in glass and steel with an air of cold modern luxury. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see the city spread out below, lights beginningto twinkle in the gathering dusk. Horakovsky stood with his back to me near the windows, a tumbler of what I assumed must be vodka in his hand.
“Your coat,” the bodyguard said behind me. “Take it off.”
My throat constricted. In my visions, I’d seen this moment play out—if I seemed too eager, too willing to debase myself, Horakovsky would lose interest. He needed to believe he was breaking me, not that I’d come pre-broken. The game required resistance.
“I…” I pulled the coat tighter around myself, letting my voice tremble. “I’d rather keep it on for now.”
The bodyguard’s expression darkened. “Mr. Horakovsky said?—”
“What’s the problem?” Horakovsky’s voice cut across the room, still not turning from the window.
“She refuses to remove coat,” the bodyguard reported.
Finally, Horakovsky turned. His scarred face split into that predator’s smile I remembered from the conference room. “Dmitri,” he said calmly, setting down his vodka. “Take the coat. Then bring her to me for punishment.”
Dmitri’s hands were on me before I could react, yanking the cashmere from my shoulders with enough force to make me stumble. The coat fell to the marble floor, and suddenly I stood completely naked except for my heels in the vast penthouse, my skin pebbling in the climate-controlled air.
“Please,” I gasped, trying to cover myself with my hands. The gesture was genuine—despite everything Aksel had done to train me as a sexual servant, standing exposed before these monsters made real terror course through my veins.
Dmitri’s massive hand closed around my upper arm, his grip bruising as he marched me across the room toward Horakovsky. My knees wobbled under me, and I could feel both men’s eyes on my body—assessing, calculating, already planning what they would do to me.
“On your knees,” Horakovsky commanded when we reached him.
Dmitri’s hand on my shoulder forced me down before I could comply on my own. My knees hit the hard floor with a painful crack that made me cry out. Horakovsky circled me slowly, his expensive shoes so perfectly shined that they reflected the light. I kept my eyes down, remembering Mila’s and Katya’s perfect submission, but also letting my body tremble visibly.
“Your husband tells me you’ve been thinking about me,” he said, stopping directly in front of me. “Touching yourself. Is this true?”
Heat flooded my face. “I… yes.”
