DIMA (Filthy Rich Alphas)

“Already, I want to cum inside of you.”

“Oh.” My climax tore through me. I shattered. Orgasmed hard, almost biting my tongue. My pussy throbbed with his thick, long cock. And I fell into an unwinding pool of sensual shivers and orgasmic spasms.

“Dima!” I lost balance and almost fell off the side of the tub.

He had me in those huge arms, never letting me go and still fucking me hard. “Yes, Rose.”

I came more. “Dima!”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Dima!”

He pulled his cock out. “Do we need more clarifications?”

I shivered with the aftershocks of my orgasm. “W-what?”

He took me off the edge and flipped me around. My knees sank into the warm water. My ass and upper body remained above the water line.

“You’re right. We need more clarifications.” He bent me over and buried his cock deep into me.

“Oh!” I held onto the edge of the tub. My breasts swung with the rhythm of his pumping. My legs grew weak as I held on.

He gripped my hips and slammed into me again. “Are we clear yet?”

“Yes!”

Water splashed against us. His cock jerked inside of me, and it was the most erotic thing that had every happened. I felt like our bodies were molded together.

“Your pussy is so good.” He groaned loud, telling me that he was coming hard. “Fuck, Rose.”

His grip on my hips tightened. His pumping shifted to hard thrusts and thick bangs full of dark groans of pleasure.

“Rose.” He grunted and gave my pussy a hard, final thrust, groaning against my back and spilling into my pussy. “Fuck.”

My heart boomed in my ears. I blinked through the dim darkness. Most of the candles near the tub had been put out by the waves of water. Only the candles further outside remained lit.

“Damn it.” His cock remained inside of me. He leaned against me, as if he’d lost the ability to stay up. “I still wanted to clarify things.”

A laugh left me, causing my stomach to bounce and my pussy to hug his cock.

“Fuck.” Grunting, he thrust one more time, but it was lackluster as his length softened inside of me. “You’re not to laugh at me.”

My breathless words came out low. “I can’t help it.”

Refusing to leave my pussy, he landed kisses on the back of my shoulder. “I’m enjoying this, Rose.”

“I am too.” I had to admit it. Regardless of our differences and opposing points of view, I’d loved every second that we’d spent together this evening.

Still inside of me, he kissed my other shoulder. “Then, let’s keep this going for as long as we can.”

And we remained in that odd, yet intimate position, molded to each other. In the candle lit darkness and the glittering view of Paradise. Steam rose, along with the fragrance of our sex.

And I was the happiest I’d ever been.

24

The Bedroom

Rose

A

fter our bath, Dima dried us both off.

We put on robes and headed to his master suite.

Surprise grabbed me as soon as I entered the space.

O-kay.

I had to pause and take it all in.

While the rest of his condo resembled the typical high-tech penthouse of a millionaire, his room held a dark childlike style. He had an insane collection of these strange action figures. They took up three walls of his bedroom. There was no room for a dresser or small desk. The only wall that didn’t have action figures was the one bordering his king bed.

And even above the bed there were three shelves full of chess pieces. But it wasn’t all of the pieces from a chess game. It was just the king piece over and over. Kings represented different shapes, colors, and material that they’d been made with. There were glass and metal. Plastic and wood.

All right. What is going on? Let’s dissect this one at a time.

I went back to the action figures.

They weren’t military soldiers or fantasy characters. These action figures had the vintage 1940s gangster look. Many wore black and white pinstriped suites and held old machine guns. Others smoked cigars. A few on the bottom shelves lugged large jugs with X’s on them, looking like they were loading a speakeasy. A few had long machetes raised above their heads with red painted on the tip of the blades. Some were styled after an era of pinstripes and spats prohibition and speakeasies.

No more than four inches tall, they stood in their own tiny, shelved glass cabinets. They had their own individual glass door with gold knobs to open them and built-in lighting that kept them in a pale yellow glow.

In a toy-filled daze, I walked over to the closest wall full of action figures.

Dima leaned against the doorway and watched me with a masked expression.

I started counting one wall of figures and gave up at fifty.

Holy shit! How many does he have?

I went to the other wall.

Dima’s dark voice filled the room. “Too many?”