The Professional Page 10

"Sit, sit, you two. Enjoy yourselves. I'll see you tomorrow."

  As I watched Paxan strolling away, I didn't want to let him out of my sight. I had the feeling that he might disappear. But then Sevastyan gave me a reassuring look, as if he understood what I was feeling. It helped.

  After that, drinks continued to flow. The hour grew late, but I didn't care because I didn't have work tomorrow, didn't have to deal with first-year students spinning tales about why their papers were late.

  My only complaint? I wanted Sevastyan to talk to me, to flirt with me. To touch me. I desired more of what he'd shown me the night before.

  I wanted sex with him.

  Craved it.

  I'd been reminded of how relentless I could be; maybe I should pursue him relentlessly?

  To my right, Filip and some brigadiers got into a heated debate about the fastest sports car--which gave me an opportunity for mischief. I was intoxicated enough that the idea of teasing Sevastyan seemed brilliant.

  Though he'd warned me that he didn't like surprises, I slipped off one heel, then stretched my hosed foot toward his legs. I made contact with his inner thigh, right above his knee. He tensed, but didn't give me away, just cast me that menacing look.

  Was it a good idea to play with an enforcer like him? Vodka said, Hell, yeah, touch his badge! I reached higher. With each inch closer I got to his dick, his breaths came quicker. He gave a forceful shake of his head.

  With a lazy grin, I dipped my forefinger into a honey pot, then sucked it between my lips, my smug expression saying, Whatcha gonna do, Siberian?

  His own lips parted. Recalling me sucking him the night before?

  Higher, higher . . .

  Contact.

  God, he was burning hot, hard as iron. He tilted his head sharply, his nostrils flaring. And for a long moment, his chest didn't move at all.

  With my lids gone heavy, I rubbed the ball of my foot along his length, thrilled when his cock pulsed in reaction. I grew wet in response, dampening the black silk thong I'd worn for him. My nipples budded in the demi cups of my bra.

  When I stroked him from base to head, he cast me another look of warning--even as his gaze gleamed with lust. Now it was a battle of wills, a game of chicken. Stroke. He was refusing to react; I refused to quit. Another stroke. Who would blink first?

  Wondering if I could get him off like this, I rubbed him with more pressure. The muscles in his shoulders and arms began to swell. The fighter must be clenching his fists beneath the table.

  His eyes promised a hot and thorough punishment.

  Mine must've been pleading for it.

  If I retired to my room, would he follow? Apparently, I would be blinking first. I lowered my foot and slipped my shoe back on. As the sports car debate wound down, I feigned a yawn and rose. "I'm tired from the trip as well." Avoiding Sevastyan's face, I said, "Good night, everyone. It was great to meet you all."

  "But there are more bottles to finish," Filip said with an irrepressible wink. Oh, dear, what if he tried to follow me?

  To dissuade him, I said, "Stay and have fun--I'll see you tomorrow."

  He brightened. "Tomorrow afternoon, then. It's a date."

  Date? That wasn't what I'd meant, and I didn't want to get his hopes up. But all eyes were on us, so I decided to let it go for now.

  With a last wave at everyone, I made my way out of the dining room. I took my time strolling back to my suite, pausing to regard the collection of paintings in the upstairs hall, wishing Sevastyan would come to me.

  And then he did. Striding down the hallway, looking every inch a mafiya enforcer. Expression murderous.

  Which for him could be literal.

  CHAPTER 15

  As Sevastyan prowled closer, I backed up a step, then another.

  He grabbed my upper arm, dragging me down the hall. In a deceptively soft voice, he asked, "Did you enjoy playing with me?" He opened a side door, shoved me inside, then closed it behind us. I smelled fresh laundry and brass polish.

  A maid's closet?

  And it was in a tsar's residence? I could only imagine how many secret trysts had been carried out over the years within these four walls.

  He flipped on a muted light, backing me farther inside. "You left me hard and aching, then planned a fucking assignation with Filip in front of me?" When my ass met a linen shelf, he clamped a hand on either side of my hips to cage me in, filling my head with his seductive scent. "Are we so interchangeable? Filip and I?"

  "I don't like him that way."

  "Do you not?" Sevastyan's voice was laced with rage. "You looked like you did at the beginning of dinner. When he was about to kiss you."

  "What does it matter to you? You blew me off, remember?"

  "It matters when you decide to stroke my cock under the table till I'm nearly strangling with need. It matters when you were drinking me down less than twenty-four hours ago." Without warning, he shoved my dress up over my hips.

  I sucked in a breath.

  He stared at my thong, then the black thigh-highs, fingering the lacy tops. "Who did you wear these for?"

  I raised my chin. "You."

  "So you planned for us to be together? After I'd said no? Tonight you've enjoyed playing with fire. But will you accept the burn you've earned?"

  "Pardon--"

  The word was cut off with a gasp when he lifted me up on the shelf. "I'm going to show you what I felt." He wedged himself between my thighs.

  "What does that mean?"

  He didn't answer, just unzipped his slacks to drag the heavy length of his cock out. The crown was damp with arousal. My body went electric when his shaft strained toward my pussy, as if hunting it on its own.

  I'd loved on his dick with my mouth and taken his semen on my tongue, wanted to again. "Let me kiss you like last night." I tried to shimmy off the shelf, but he pinned me there, pressing that shaft directly against the silky front of my panties. Right against my swollen clitoris. I moaned when I perceived the heat of him, even through the damp material.

  "Feel that," he rasped. "Teasing me got you wet? You like goading me until I lose control?"

  "Yes," I whimpered.

  He rubbed my upper thighs with his callused palms, higher and higher. With his thumbs, he reached under my panties and pulled my lips past the sides of the crotch. "This is what I felt." He thrust, as much as clothes-fucking me, with only silk between his cock and my clit.

  I moaned low, my head falling back.

  "No, you don't," he snapped, drawing my gaze. "You're going to look at me like you did when you teased me, Natalya. Like you would die if I didn't fuck you at that moment." He gave a second thrust, making my body vibrate. "Your eyes were begging me to bend you over that table and plunge into your pussy." Another thrust. "Is that what you meant to tell me?"

  "Yes!" I was going to come like this, was already on the verge. "I want it now."

  "Christ, woman." He rocked his hips again, gliding his shaft over me. More pre-cum clung to the head; he swiped a streak of it against the silk, then positioned himself once more.

  The friction and heat were making me mindless. "Please don't stop that!"

  "I should stop, leaving you as you did me." He leaned forward to rumble words at my ear, "Feeling like I'd explode, on the verge of coming in my pants. So close I wanted to; damn the consequences, I wanted you to bring my cock off in a room full of people."

  When I shivered, his thumbs delved deeper. "Open your dress."

  I untied the sash, then drew the sides apart, baring my bra.

  "Very nice," he said with another thrust. "Now, take that off."

  I snatched it up, wanting him to see my heavy breasts.

  When they bobbed with his next thrust, he grunted the order: "Play."

  My hands flew to them, cupping.

  "Lovely Natalya." He rolled his hips again. The silk was now soaking. "You're going to wet me through your panties?" He ran two fingers along the damp underside of his shaft before returning it against me.
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  I moaned. "Why won't you have sex with me?"

  "Don't forget this is punishment." A crueler thrust. "And you're not for me. Now, show me how hard those nipples can get."

  I tugged at them.

  "Harder."

  I did, moaning when I felt his thumbs at my slit, opening me, so close to breaching me with them. "Inside, Sevastyan. Put your fingers inside me."

  "Have you ever used one of those vibrators to penetrate yourself?"

  My face heated, a ridiculous reaction considering what we were doing. But I answered honestly, "Yes. I like to."

  He groaned, bucking faster. "Then why were you a virgin?"

  Between panting breaths, I said, "Hadn't met . . . the right guy."

  "Yet you think you have now?" He started a series of swift pumps, sawing his shaft back and forth over my wet clit.

  "Sevastyan!" I could almost pretend that he was fucking me, his stiff rod pillaging my core. He'd fuck and fuck until I was forced to come around his cock. Until he'd forced me to milk that thick length . . . "Ah, God, I'm about--"

  He covered my mouth with one of his hands, muffling my screams. He slipped two fingers between my lips, treating me to my own juices. "Suck," he ordered.

  My head fell back and I sucked in delight, imagining those fingers were his cock. Under his sharp thrusts, I began to orgasm. I screamed, I sucked, I never wanted it to end.

  Clenching, spasming, each wave brought unbearable pleasure--and a frenzied hunger to be filled. . . .

  When I was too sensitive to take any more, he pulled back and pressed my knees toward my naked breasts. With me rocking back against the wall, ankles on his shoulders, he yanked my panties to my thighs, baring me. Gaze locked on my swollen flesh, he fisted himself, masturbating that big cock.

  Neck straining, arm muscles bulging, he grated, "Watch me come on you." He was aiming between my legs. The idea of him ejaculating there made me melt all over again, my pussy quivering and contracting as he watched--

  "Fuck, woman, I see you!" Choking back a yell, he began to spurt heavy ropes of cum.

  When scorching semen lapped against my sensitive lips, I moaned, spreading my legs in welcome.

  Between gnashed teeth, he hissed, "My greedy girl wants more?" He squeezed his cock, and another ribbon lashed my mons. Over and over, he pumped himself until his shaft was spent, pulsating but empty. . . .

  Dazed, wanting to kiss him, I reached for him.

  But he pushed my hands away. "Ah-ah." He palmed me between my thighs--and began slathering his seed into my flesh.

  Why? What? How could that be so sexy? As ever, I had no idea what he would do next. Though my arousal had renewed with a surge, I sat docile, allowing him to coat me.

  After working my panties back into place, he used his whole palm to give the sodden crotch a good slap--which made me buck for another. With that same look of masculine satisfaction, he said, "You'll feel me tomorrow."

  Wicked, sexy, domineering man. I couldn't imagine another male could excite me as much as he did. I needed to wrap my arms around him, to whisper in his ear how he drove me crazy.

  But he simply zipped up and turned to go, to leave me like this. "Better focus your attention on someone you can actually manipulate. Speaking of which, have fun with Filip tomorrow."

  When he reached the door, I gave my head a clearing shake. "That's all you have to say?"

  Without turning around, he said, "Do not ever tease me again. I only play games when I make the rules."

  "Rules, Siberian?" Now that I wasn't stupid with lust, I didn't love his domineering self. "You can make them, if only to watch me break them."

  "If you tease me again, pet, you will not enjoy the consequences." He left me, shutting the door behind him.

  Note to self: Tease Sevastyan at earliest opportunity, investigate "consequences."

  In that closet, still warmed--and wet--from his attentions, I decided two things:

  Aleksandr Sevastyan had to be my first lover.

  And I'd let him think he made the rules.

  CHAPTER 16

  "You're Sevastyan, right?" I said with full-on sarcasm when I ran into him downstairs a week later. "Didn't I see you in the closet the other day?"

  Since then, I'd made zero progress with my Sevastyan-pops-cherry plan, a plan that had since been retired. Which was only to be expected since he refused to talk to me, aside from superficial greetings.

  He raised a brow at my comment, falling into step beside me as I made my way to Paxan's study.

  I frowned at him. For the last seven days, we'd never been alone. He'd always been close by--yet achingly distant.

  The morning after the maid's closet, I'd awakened smiling again, looking forward just to seeing him. I'd called Jess and told her all about him, about everything. She'd focused on one detail: "Nat, you've still got your skin tag?" I'd assured her not for long, my friend.

  There'd been a bounce in my step as I arrived for breakfast.

  Only to find Sevastyan was back to his aloof self, barely acknowledging me. While my body had still been feeling the aftereffects of what we'd done, his mind had checked out.

  I supposed if he'd thought what we'd done on the plane was bad, then shoving me into a closet to have his way with me must have been awful in his mind. I'd tried to get him alone, endeavored to get him to talk to me. Nothing.

  Disappointment had settled over me. During this lull, my disappointment had begun to feel a lot like anger.

  I'd lived without Sevastyan for seven nights. I'd conceded defeat. My infatuation had faded.

  It had! "Do you need something?" I asked him in a cool voice. Now he was going to pay attention to me?

  Though he was dressed like a dream--dark gray slacks and a formfitting black cashmere sweater--he looked like he hadn't slept for days. "You and Kovalev are getting along well," he remarked in a neutral tone.

  "He's easy to get along with." Paxan and I had been like two peas in a pod, appreciating the same jokes, enjoying the same books and food.

  Growing closer every day.

  Sometimes we spoke English, sometimes Russian. In both languages, he was sly and witty, and we often laughed to tears. Being with him was almost opposite to how it'd been with my dad. Though I'd never doubted he loved me and Mom, Bill Porter had been a quiet man. He and I used to work on his tractors, passing the time in companionable silence.

  It was just as comfortable with Kovalev, only different.

  Every morning, we played chess in an open-sided pavilion down by the Moskva River. Sevastyan remained in the background, usually on the phone conducting business, body tense, gaze alert for danger.

  The security threat--which no one would talk to me about--obviously hadn't lessened.

  Now Sevastyan told me, "You're easy to get along with as well."

  Was he for real? "And how would you know?"

  He hiked his shoulders. "I see you with him."

  Sometimes when Paxan and I would laugh at something, I'd notice Sevastyan regarding us. At first, he'd appeared surprised. Now he would gaze at us with a satisfied look on his face.

  Yet at other times I'd catch him surveying me with an expression that was far from satisfied--and it intensified more each day. I felt as if he was awaiting something. From me.

  Like a hunter preparing to strike.

  Even Filip had commented on it. "When you're not looking, he watches you like a stalker."

  I'd scoffed, "A stalker would actually give me the time of day if I asked for it."

  Yet something was building in Sevastyan, like a bomb clock ticking a countdown. But a countdown to what?

  "Are you settling in?" he asked.

  Was he going to query me about the weather next? I stayed him with a hand on his arm. "What's up with the small talk, Siberian?" I almost got the impression that he was trying--in his taciturn, enforcer-type way--to chat me up. When he peered down at my hand, I released him.

  "Do you like it here?" he asked, his voice droppin
g a notch. "Enough to stay?"

  We'd stopped in front of a rain-slicked window. Outside, fall rains drizzled. There hadn't been a break in the weather since I'd gotten to Berezka. Shadows from the drops coursed over Sevastyan's face, filling me with the mad urge to kiss each one.

  Inner shake. "Why do you and Paxan and Filip get to leave, but I don't?"

  He scrubbed his hand over his chin. "Because if anything happened to you . . . We simply can't take chances. You're so eager to leave?"

  "Well, I have to admit I was getting stir-crazy whenever Paxan had to work--I'm not used to all this free time." Or this much energy. I'd been in desperate need of an outlet when Filip had suggested laps in the Olympic-size indoor pool. Every day, we went together. "But Filip has been doing his best to keep me occupied."

  Those muscles on the sides of Sevastyan's jaw bulged. He took a step closer. As ever, tension brewed between us. I glanced up at his eyes, only to find his gaze on my lips.

  "I told you to be wary of him."

  "But not why." Once I'd shut down my manalyzing, I'd grown comfortable with Filip. Unfortunately, I felt nothing more for him than friendship.

  Why couldn't I fall for a guy like him? He said whatever was on his mind, was easygoing, and acted like I hung the moon.

  The opposite of Sevastyan.

  If I were with Filip, I wouldn't have felt the just-in-case need to brush up on the finer points of BDSM, studying everything from corporal punishment to orgasm denial to dom/sub rituals.

  Sevastyan had talked about obedience and discipline; was he interested in the lifestyle, the equipment, the paraphernalia?

  Punishment bars and floggers, handcuffs and canes, nipple clamps and ball gags.

  Recalling the way Sevastyan had slapped my ass, I'd watched online videos featuring grown women stretched over men's laps, spanked like they were wayward creatures in need of correction.

  I'd been indignant and outraged!

  I'd pictured Sevastyan forcing me across his lap for a similar chastisement; he'd once threatened to do exactly that. And as soon as I'd finished masturbating, I'd been indignant and outraged all over again!

  Until I'd masturbated a second time. But that had been before I'd conceded defeat.

  "What are you thinking of?" he asked me, his gaze riveted to my face.

  I realized my breaths had shallowed, my cheeks heating.

  He put his hand on my wrist, touching me with that live-wire grip. His brows drew together, until I could almost imagine he was about to kiss me.