Page 8 of Room Nine: For Their Eyes Only

She tenses and lifts her gaze to the ceiling, lost in thought as she considers my question. “I got enough, but it was always the wrong kind.”

My brows crease with genuine curiosity. “What’s the wrong kind?”

“My mother was absent and my father was overprotective. He believed the world was out to harm me. It wasn’t positive attention. I crave eyes, not a prison.”

Boris is notoriously protective of the ones he loves and always feared for his daughter’s safety. She may have lived in the lap of luxury, but a cage is a cage, even when the bars are made of gold.

“Do you still live at home? Do they know you do this?” I hate prying so soon or playing twenty questions, but I have a job to do, and I don’t want to get sidetracked by lust.

Vivienne shakes her head. “No to both. They wouldn’t understand. They’ll throw money at me and insist I stop. But I’m just getting started.” A rush of pink stains her cheeks, and her stern voice turns silky. “What about you, Andrei?”

“Me? My father passed years ago, but my mother knows what I do.”

She narrows her gaze, biting her lip to stifle a smile. “You know what I mean, mister. Tell me something about you.”

“I live in New York. Where do you live?” It’s an easy thing to confess. It’s a city of eight million. She won’t automatically believe I’m tied to her father.

She snuggles into her pillow and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “I make it a point not to share where I am. Someone in my position needs to be careful about attracting stalkers. Sorry.” I’m happy she’s cautious, but her diligence makes my job more difficult.

“Don’t apologize, doll. You should take precautions. I'd kick down your door if I knew where you lived.” I regret my words for a moment, but she soothes my doubts with the sexiest smile.

“Now you've made me want to tell you,” she purrs, her baby-blue eyes hazy with lust.

I lean forward, lost in her beautiful face, and whisper, “Tell me what makes you feel good. How do you like to be kissed?”

“Slowly, I think,” she breathes, her chest rising and falling as her pulse quickens. I can tell she’s aroused. Her rosy lips and the dewy sheen of sweat on her face are telltale signs.

“You think? Don’t you know?” I rasp, the throbbing cock in my pants making it difficult to speak.

She covers her face with her hands and giggles with embarrassment. “I haven’t been kissed enough to know what I like. But I think I’d like it soft, then hard, then soft again.”

My pulse kicks up. My mouth turns into the fucking Sahara. I swallow the lump in my throat and struggle to form a reply that doesn’t make me sound creepy. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“What do you like, Andrei? What’s your favorite thing to do to get in the mood?” she murmurs and runs a finger across her lips, licking them slowly as her eyes connect with mine.

“I like to watch,” I blurt out the words before I have time to think about how they’re perceived.

“Watch what? Do you like watching your girl with someone else? Why?” She doesn’t mince words and goes right for the jugular.

“Sometimes. Primarily, I like to watch my girl get off. But not just any girl will do. I need a woman who can handle more than one man. Sometimes I want to watch, and sometimes I want to be the one fucking.” The bourbon makes me bold, and I lay my kinky cards on the table.

“But why?” she asks again, unsatisfied with my reply.

“Because I want to watch you reach the height of ecstasy, writhing and moaning, your eyes locked on mine while you climax. I want you to know I’m in the palm of your hand, eager to give you more pleasure than you’ll ever know,” I speak slowly, enunciating every word to make sure she understands.

Boris is going to skin me alive.

Her eyes grow wide, but I’m unsure if it’s horror or curiosity. “Will you let me watch you with a woman?”

“No, baby girl. I don’t like being shared. I’m a possessive man and want to be with a possessive woman.” I realize it doesn’t make sense, but there’s a method to my madness.

“How can you say you’re possessive?” Vivi asks with a trace of laughter in her voice.

“Trust me, I am. My brothers are an extension of me. I’d never allow you to be with anyone else. You’d be ours. We’d be yours. No one else comes between us.” My voice deepens, emphasizing the severity of my conviction.

Her long lashes flutter against her cheeks, and her voice lulls into a sleepy whisper. “Your brothers? If I was your girl, you’d share me with them?”

I answer without thinking because the words have been on the tip of my tongue all night. “It’s your decision. If you only want me, then you have me. If you want one of my brothers, I’d learn to accept it. If you want all three of us, we’d pass you around, devour your pussy and claim every part of you. Have you ever been with more than one man?”

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