Page 66 of Velvet Chains
On impulse, I brush my lips against her forehead, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the filthy things I was doing to her body only moments before. A soft smile curves her kiss-swollen lips, and something in my chest clenches almost painfully.
Suka! What the fuck was that? Since when do I do sweet?
I’m a ruthless motherfucker, a man who takes what he wants without apology. I don’t do soft. I don’t do gentle. Not unless it’s a means to an end—a calculated move to lower a woman’s guard so I can fuck her the way I really want to.
But with this kiska… Christ, the things this woman makes me feel. The ways she turns me inside out without even trying. It’s dangerous, this hold she has on me. The power she wields without even knowing it.
Scowling at my own foolish sentimentality, I stalk to the bathroom, suddenly desperate to clear my head. I need to get my shit together before this perfect, maddening creature in my bed awakens and tempts me to do something truly stupid. Like bare my fucking soul to her.
And may God fucking help me… I’m beginning to like it.
I crank the shower as hot as it’ll go and get in, hoping the scalding water will burn away whatever the fuck these feelings are. But even with the spray beating down on me like a pissed-off jury, I know it’s no use.
Laura’s already made herself at home in my head.
If I’m being honest, in my goddamn heart, too.
And fuck me sideways, but I’m starting to like it.
To crave it, even.
Blyad. I’m so screwed.
Water sluices down my body as I step out of the shower, steam curling around me.
My eyes immediately land on Laura, sprawled across our bed like a fucking feast laid out just for me.
In the dim light, I can make out the curves of her body, barely concealed by that thin dress. It’s ridden up her thighs, exposing miles of her long legs. The neckline has slipped, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of one perfect tit, the rosy nipple pebbled and begging for my mouth.
Christ, the things I want to do to her delectable body. Flip her over, hike that scrap of fabric up around her hips, and plunge into her sweet cunt until she’s mewling and thrashing underneath me. Slip my fingers between her thighs and work her swollen clit until she’s dripping all over the sheets, desperate for my cock.
I imagine wrapping that silky hair around my fist and fucking her pretty face until mascara streaks her cheeks and tears leak from the corners of her eyes.
Pizda.
My dick twitches at the filthy images, a pearl of precum beading at the tip. Fuck, I could probably blow my load just from jerking it to the sight of her, flushed and rumpled from our fuckfest.
I’m halfway to the bed, ready to do just that when my phone starts buzzing like a motherfucker on the nightstand. I snatch it up with a snarl, ready to verbally castrate whoever’s on the other end.
“Boss, we got the ledger. And…”
“Misha, you cumstain, I’m kinda fucking busy here,” I snap, keeping my voice low.
Suka. Blood surges to my cock, hard and ready in an instant. The urge to crawl between her legs and sink into her warm sweetness nearly buckles my knees.
The fucker just laughs. “Damn, boss, she’s got your balls in a grip, huh? Bet that pussy is tight as a glove.”
I bare my teeth even though he can’t see. “Keep talking, and I’ll mail you my dirty condoms so you can see for yourself.”
“Nah, I’m good. Besides, pretty sure they’d disintegrate from the toxic waste in your radioactive jizz.”
Christ. And people call me crass.
“You’ve got thirty seconds before I reach through this phone and strangle you with your own intestines. Talk,” I whisper fiercely.
“Dig the wax out of your ears, boss. I said Igor found Vasiliev’s ledger. The dumb fuck wrote everything down, every dirty deal, every bribe. It’s a fucking gold mine. Get your ass to the wine cellar, we’re gonna toast the end of that scumbag’s reign.”
Fuck. If this is legit, we’ll own that weaselly prick. He’ll be our puppet, dancing on our strings.
