Page 82 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

“I guess you’re right.”

There’s another long pause. All I can hear is Arya’s breathing on the other end of the line. Quiet and even. Finally, she speaks. “I miss you.”

Every part of me aches for her. Heart. Head. Dick. This isn’t how things should be. And if I have my way, it won’t last much longer.

“I miss you, too. I’m sorry things have been so… I don’t even know what to call it. I’m just sorry.”

She doesn’t tell me it’s okay. Because it isn’t. But she says the next best thing.

“I’m going to fly back tomorrow. Now that I have someone here looking out for Lukas, I don’t think there’s any point in me still being here. Whether Ilyasov is here or not, I won’t find him on my own. And I don’t know what I’d do if I did.”

“Good. I want you here with me.”

“Dare I say you’re worried about me, Dima?” I hear a smile in her voice. It’s been so long since I’ve heard anything but sorrow.

“Me? Never.”

There’s a low sound deep in her throat. “I wish you could take care of me.”

My cock rises to attention. I recognize the tone in her voice. “Then lay back and let me.”

Arya giggles. “Right now?”

“Right fucking now, Arya.”

I hear her shift around on the other end of the phone and then she pauses, her breathing quick.

“I’ll palm your breasts and flick your nipples until they’re hard.”

“They’re already hard,” she whispers.

“Then I’ll slide my hand across your hips and cup your center. Find that needy clit of yours. Drag my fingertip across it slowly.”

She exhales. “I’m so sensitive.”

I slide my hand inside my own jeans. I’m already hard and throbbing.

“I’ll take it slow, then,” I assure her. “I’ll stroke you a few more times before my fingers slip inside of your panties to feel how wet you are.”

“So wet,” she gasps.

I pump my hand once, imagining the precum beading on the tip of my cock is instead Arya’s wetness. My breathing hitches.

“I’ll drag up to your clit and circle two fingers around your center quickly, until you start to squirm. To beg.”

I can hear her breathing growing rougher, little gasps escaping. What I wouldn’t give to see her face. I massage myself, thrusting with my hips, sliding myself into my fist agonizingly slowly.

“Are you squirming? Does it feel good?”

“Yes, Dima. So good.”

“Then I’ll curl my finger inside of you.”

“Oh, God,” she breathes, exhaling loudly. “Can I put in another one?”

Fuck.My cock twitches at her need. At how badly I wish I was with her. To do this in person.

“Slow,” I order. “Don’t you dare rush it. Make it last.”

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