Page 11 of Corrupt: XXX Vadim 2
I feel myself blush as my tongue chases every remainder of him from my lips. “Careful, Mr. Vadim. That almost sounds like praise.”
He laughs, stroking me absently, his expression utterly content. “Take it as you will, Ms. Connors. I look forward to indulging your other fantasies.”
“Oh?” I perk up, my brain skipping ahead. “Such as?”
He chuckles deeply and cradles my jaw, urging me to meet his gaze again. “I will show you,” he promises. “I will build you your playground as you call it. But in return? You lend me your expertise.”
I raise an eyebrow and rise up to straddle him, inching as close to him as I can. His arms encircle me, forming a cocoon of warmth against the shower spray. “My expertise in what?”
“Children,” he says simply. His mouth settles in the crook of my shoulder, nipping. Sucking. “You help me with Magdalene,” he commands in between teasing nibbles. “Help me make this place a true home for her—” At least he has insight into his current anti-child décor. “Do this for me, and I will ensure that you are sufficiently sprung.”
My toes curl.
“And if I refuse?”
His hand slides boldly between my legs, and I inhale, my thoughts spinning. “You won’t,” he smugly surmises,barelygrazing my piercing. “My money may not impress you, but I know what does. You’ve just had your first dose of the day,” he reminds me as my face heats further. “I will keep you well supplied. As long as you help me. Anything else can be discussed at a later date. I just need you to promise me this.”
I stroke his chest, more touched by his confession than I care to admit out loud. When the man engages in his limited pillow talk, my senses combust. But when he’s open? Something in my heart starts to bleed, and I’m worried that it’s not entirely a bad feeling.
“I’ll help you,” I tell him, smoothing my fingers across his rock-hard pec. “I’ll help you with your daughter.”
He captures my chin, tilting it so that our lips meet fiercely. I moan into the kiss, arching against him, frowning when he pulls back.
“What’s wrong?”
“First, I need your help with something else,” he tells me, brushing his lips across my jaw in a series of featherlight touches that make my eyelids flutter. “Something marginally less important, but still requiring urgent attention.”
I frown, confused. “What?”
That grin. It’s so quick and devastating in its prowess. A flash of white teeth paired with a hint of mischief in those dark eyes. I’m dumbstruck.
“Come.” He stands, pulling me along with him even though we’re both naked. My involuntary shiver must be what makes him take a detour to the closet where he snatches one of his shirts from its hanger and dresses me in it. “I think I prefer this to…”
He breaks off, his throat clenching, and I beam in triumph and finger the tip of his starched collar. On me, the shirt strains over my breasts, and I have a feeling he can see my nipples protruding against the material.
New sexy outfit idea?Check, check, check.
“Oh, Mr. Vadim. Are you saying that youliketo see me in your clothing?” I twirl for his benefit and relish in his savoring moan.
“Witch!” He grabs my wrist and spins me around to face him. Ravenous, his eyes rake over me, settling on my chest. He candefinitelysee my nipples judging from his appreciative swallow. “I think I love you in my clothing,” he confesses, his voice rasping.
And I’m more aware of my piercing than ever, hovering dangerously close to my clit. So on fire, it’s nearly unbearable.
“But, you may be too distracting.” He slides his fingers beneath my collar in search of the topmost button and swiftly undoes it. Then another. Another. Soon, the garment is hanging open, exposing my torso, and some of the heat in his gaze simmers to a liquid lust that makes me sway. “Much better,” he declares before finding a shirt of his own.
I follow him from the room and into that infamous space the next door down. My breath catches as I spot the pillory, and my brain loses track of everything but the prospect of doing it again. For longer. With more spanking. More intensity. More.
“Finish your homework admirably, and I will reward you,” Vadim says thickly as if reading my mind.
“Homework?”
“Furniture,” he declares. “For her room…” Without explaining further, he crosses over to that corner of stacked boxes and easily lifts a massive one from the nearest row. He brings it to the center of the room and places it down. Wiping his hands, he nods to a section of the room I hadn’t noticed until now.
“My laptop is there,” he says, indicating a small, neatly arranged collection of items. A pillow. A folded blanket. A laptop. A stack of clothing. My throat constricts as I pad closer and recognize the small corner as where he must have stayed during his exile from the master bed—in addition to his study—though I suspect his laptop and briefcase saw much more use than the pillow and blanket did.
“You can use it to do your research,” he adds.
Nodding, I grab the laptop and obediently bring it toward him as he opens a box with a silver knife. He logs me in and opens up a browser before returning back to his main task. I peek over his shoulder and watch on excitedly while he rummages through a carefully packed arrangement of black wood.
