All I can do is let out cries of surprise—ohs and ahs—as the shock mingles pleasure with pain.
“Stay there, zayka. Don’t move.”
I obey, my face buried in the soft covers of his bed. I hear him open a drawer, but I don’t look. There’s something about the anticipation—not knowing what he’s going to do with me—that makes this moment all the hotter.
He can’t screw me because he just orgasmed, so what will it be? What is he planning?
He returns and slaps my ass a few more times, making me jump and buck. When he runs his fingers between my legs, I hear the slickness of my arousal coating my flesh.
He pries my cheeks apart and I jolt with surprise. “Hold still, bunny,” he instructs. A drop of something cold lands between my cheeks, and he massages it over my anus.
My heart beats hard against my ribs. I both want this and don’t want it at the same time. It’s scary and exciting. A cool metal object pressed against my anus.
I tighten and try to straighten, but Nikolai pushes my torso back down.
“Relax, Freckles. I’m going to plug your ass, and you’re going to like it. I have to get you ready for my cock.”
I’m still not so sure, but he’s applying gentle pressure at my back entrance.
“Exhale and push,” he instructs.
I hold my breath for a moment as I struggle to accept what’s happening. But even as I resist, the pleasure of having my anus probed takes over the shame of it. I force myself to relax and push, as he ordered, and the plug slides forward.
“Oh! Ohhh,” I moan as it stretches me.
“Take it, Chelle.” He dribbles more lube over the plug and teases me with it, fucking my ass with the end.
It feels wonderful. Horrible and wonderful. I love-hate it.
My pussy feels far too empty, and I reach my arm underneath me to touch it.
“That’s right, zayka. Play with that pretty pussy while I play with your ass. You have permission to come whenever you’re ready.”
Permission to come.
I’d already forgotten his rule from last night. The one I broke.
My fingers sink into my pussy without me even trying—I’m so wet and plump down there it’s like a foreign land.
Nikolai fucks me with the plug, teasing my ass for a series of pumps before pushing it a little deeper each time. Stretching me wider with each go.
I moan, feverish with the need to come but not ready yet. I have to hold too still for Nikolai; I want more in my pussy. But it all feels so good. So deliriously satisfying in the most hedonistic way possible. Nikolai pushes the bulbous plug in all the way, which is both a relief and a disappointment, because I want more. But he’s not done. He continues to fuck me with it, pulling it out and pushing it in. I plunge my own fingers inside my pussy—multiple fingers. I’ve never felt myself this way—like a freaking river down there!
“Please,” I start to beg. “Please, Nikolai. Oh, please.”
He growls and kicks my legs wider. “Move your fingers.” His roughened voice gets me even hotter. I move my fingers, and he starts to slap my pussy—short, sharp slaps over my folds, hitting my clit. They sting and satisfy in a way my own fingers hadn’t. When he coordinates it with the ass-fucking, I completely lose my mind.
I start begging, or maybe screaming. Definitely making noises I can’t control.
Nikolai spanks harder, and I yip, then frantically reach for my pussy with both hands, bucking over my fingers as I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.
When it’s over, I nearly pass out. I’m dizzy and limp and completely wrung out.
Nikolai lifts me the rest of the way to the bed, and I lie there with my mind blown for what could have been hours. Maybe it was only minutes.
I really don’t know.
All I know is that my world just expanded in ways I didn’t think were possible.
I finally manage to roll myself onto my back and blink my eyes open.
“There you are.” Nikolai holds out a glass of water. It takes effort just to push myself onto my forearms to drink.
“That was insane,” I pant between sips.
Nikolai’s smile is smug.
“I’m just getting started, Freckles.”
12
Nikolai
* * *
I’m finding it hard to regret my bad decision-making. Watching Chelle come undone was a fucking privilege.
I take care of business while Chelle showers—paying Oleg, Adrian and Ravil out of the pot, then I order some gyros and Greek salad to be delivered for lunch.
“You need a dining table,” Chelle announces when the food arrives, and I put it on the quartz breakfast bar.
“Do I?” I survey the apartment. I guess a dining table seemed pointless when it’s just me living here. “I rearranged many times but nothing seemed right,” I admit, waving my arm around the open-concept living area. “Where would I put it?”