Page 52 of Control: XXX Vadim 1
“So what?” I finger the still vibrating object balanced on his palm and shudder. Even picturing it inside me is…dangerous. “We play with it?”
“No.” He steps into me, his stance suddenly clinical, like a doctor about to perform a procedure. “You keep this inside you—” He lowers his hand to my hip, pressing enough for me to feel the vibrations through his skin.Holy heck. I grip his forearms for balance, my brain melting. “Until I give you permission to remove it.”
I rear back to meet his gaze, my mouth opened in horror. “On?”
“Not constantly.” I sense him inhale as he brushes his mouth along my throat, tasting my scent. “However, I will have the remote on me at all times, to be utilized at my discretion. You will be surprised by the range. My main request is that you refrain from touching yourself. At all. Only I may have that privilege. Understood?” His fingers slip beneath my skirt, trailing up my thigh, and I nearly buck into his hand just to find relief.
“So wet,” he murmurs in approval. “But this game will not commence tonight. This will be merely the preliminary round.”
I frown. “Not even one little orgasm for me?” I arch into him, pressing my breasts against his chest. My hips seem to move of their own accord, grinding, teasing.
With difficulty, he pulls back, leaving only his hand against me. “No,” he says thickly. “Do you trust that I will make it good when you finally do experience release?”
Do I trust him? All it takes is the memory of his tongue on me to come up with an answer. “Yes…”
“Good. The other stipulation is that you cannot remove this. I will know if you do.”
He guides me back and taking the hint, I lean against the table, spreading my legs. Observing him crouch before me, his head disappearing beneath my skirt is an experience all in itself. Orgasming without touching myself only a few days ago would have seemed like a pipe dream. Now? I arch my back, gasping in anticipation.
My clit is already swollen, demanding attention as the smooth surface of the toy grazes my lips.
Vadim makes a low sound in his throat. “So beautiful you are,” he praises. “So eager already. Can you wait for me to savor you?”
I nod, feeling like a child undertaking a chore in the hopes of a treat. And even his slow, careful insertion of the device is a sensual delicacy almost enough to make up for the lack of his fingers. It’s so light, I barely feel it, but the vibrations when felt internally…
I grit my teeth, my eyelids fluttering, and my muscles jerk, making me squirm. I’m vaguely aware of him rising to his feet before me, watching my reaction.
Finally, the sensation abates, and I can breathe again.
“Holy…crap…” I’m panting, my body slick with sweat. A wicked grin shapes my mouth even as I contemplate the daunting prospect of enduring this at his discretion for only God knows how long.
“Too unbearable?” Vadim wonders, sounding irritatingly level.
I shake my head. But I can’t resist asking, “If I’m a good girl, will you fuck me fast?”
His smile. It’s so sinful, so wicked. My toes curl even as my thighs twitch, too aware of the pressure building between them to risk coming together.
“I will fuck you,” he promises, copying my filthy language. “All in good time.”
I pout, rolling my eyes. “So, what will we do until then?”
“Dinner,” he says, smoothly, clearing the table. I note that he tucks the smaller, baby blue box he’d teased me with earlier into his pocket. “It dawned on me as I drove back that I haven’t fed you since lunch.”
A lunch that we never actually enjoyed, thanks to me.
And I’d been too caught up in the whirlwind day to notice. With a pang of guilt, I recall what Ena said about making him eat. The fact that he seems to take effort on his part to remember normal meal timeframes proves just how little he must eat normally.
“Are you going to cook for me?” I ask as he steps behind the counter and opens the fridge.
“No.” He opens a drawer that I assume is the freezer and withdraws a slim, rectangular metal container. The space seems to be full of at least six other similar boxes. After closing the drawer, he places the container on the counter and lifts the lid, revealing a neatly proportioned meal of baked chicken, vegetables, and rice.
“Equestrian. Chef. Damn good in the sack. Is there anything you can’t do?” I wonder, partly impressed, partly irritated.
He laughs and places the container in the oven. “I share your thoughts on cooking. You should be complimenting Ena. He continues to make these things for me, though I rarely eat them before they spoil.”
“So far, my competition for your heart seems to be against a fake wife, your bodyguard, and a beautiful horse. Can’t a girl catch a break?” I’d been speaking without thinking. It’s only when I see his jaw clench that I realize how stupidly reckless I was.
Mr. Vadim, the guarded, mistrustful businessman, doesn’t seem to want a relationship with me either. Great.
