Page 104 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

She does, her hands still shaking. She wipes her mouth and looks up at me. Her hazel eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. “How did you know to come?”

“I checked the security cameras,” I explain. “I don’t trust Roger. I was checking to make sure you left the building alone and intact. I saw him pounding on the storage closet door. It didn’t take a huge logical leap to figure out what happened.”

Her lower lip trembles. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up, Nikolai. I… I was so scared.”

“I should kill him.” My fists tighten at my side in preparation.

Her eyes go wide. “No! No, it’s bad enough as it is. He’s never going to give me a recommendation now. I’ll be fired, and I’ll be blacklisted. Do you think he can do that? Blacklist me? Is that a thing?”

Panic is rising in her, and I can see it getting out of control.

“I’ll take care of everything, Belle. I told you that already.”

She shakes her head. “What are you going to do? I’m leaving town. Immediately, now that you are firing Roger. I have to go back home, but I don’t have a job. Or money. I can’t even buy my sister a pair of shoes, but you’re here in… is that a tux?”

Her eyes rove over me appreciatively before she descends back into her freakout. “I have to figure this out myself, but I don’t know—”

With only the briefest of thoughts for Xena Simatou, I reach out and grab Belle’s face in my hands. She goes quiet, her eyes focusing on mine for a fleeting second before I lean forward and kiss her.

Her body goes slack. The tension dissipates. She may not know what’s going on in her life at the moment, but her body knows exactly what to do.

She’s kissing me back at once. Hungrily. Desperately.

Belle drags her tongue across my top lip and then sucks on my bottom one. She looks like this prim, timid woman to the passing eye, but underneath it all, she’s a firecracker begging to be set aflame.

And I just struck the match.

I bend down and scoop her up, then carry her to my desk and sit her on the edge of it. When I reach for her waistband, she breaks the kiss and lifts her hips, letting me drag her skirt down her legs.

As soon as it’s out of the way, she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. Her warm center grinds against the front of my pants, and I hiss. Belle smiles and unzips my tuxedo, shoving my pants and my boxers down my thighs. My cock springs free.

I can try to spin this however I want. I’m not married to Xena Simatou yet. Technically, it isn’t cheating until we’re married.

But I’m letting Belle palm my throbbing length while the tuxedo pants I plan to wear to my wedding with another woman are around my ankles.

This is fucked-up in the best possible way.

And I have no plans to stop it.

“Yesterday, you had me tied up to a chair,” Belle whispers. Her hands stroke my thickness.

“Do you want me to tie you up again? I can.”

“Maybe it’s my turn to do the tying.”

I smooth my hands up her silky thighs and then push her back on my desk. “I think I’ve made it perfectly clear: tonight, I’m taking care of you. Now, close your mouth and spread your legs.”

Belle listens without comment. That might be a first, I think.

But then I drag my finger across her seam and every thought is driven out of my head by the wetness I find there.

I lean down and slick my tongue over the path I just made with my finger, enjoying the taste of her and the way she trembles. Belle curls her fingers through my hair, trying to hold me in place.

But I don’t take orders from anyone.

I pull back and then lift her off the desk. She frowns. “But I thought we—”

I shake my head and spin her around by her hips. “Shut up and put your hands on the desk.”

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