Devil's Contract

“No, fuck you.” I begin thrusting my fingers in and out with more force on each push. “Fuck you hard.” I add a third finger for emphasis, reveling in her quiet mewl as she raises up on tiptoes to try to ease the bite of the spread.

I push in, and pull out, widening my fingers as I do. She moans quietly, trying her hardest to control the level of noise that comes from her body.

“Do you like your pussy being fucked? Being spread?”

She shakes her head in denial, but the expression on her face is one of lust. And her pussy grows wetter with every thrust of my finger.

“Yes, you do. I feel just how much you do. I can smell it.”

She opens her mouth to no doubt tell me to go fuck myself, but a tiny gasp releases instead as I press all the way, knuckle deep, inside.

“Tell me you’re a dirty girl who likes her pussy spread,” I command.

When she doesn’t do as I say, I pull out my fingers and spank her pussy. She tries to conceal the noise by picking up the bottle and putting it down on the counter as if pretending the noise came from that instead of my wet fingers on her punished pussy. She then reaches for a pile of napkins and begins organizing the pile as if she’s just simply working behind the bar and nothing else is happening.

I spank her pussy again. “Say it.”

She jumps, bites her lip, but then whispers, “I’m a dirty girl who likes to have my pussy spread.”

I insert the three fingers back inside her as a reward. “That’s my dirty girl.”

“Do you need some help over there?” Z calls out.

Katja tries to break away from my hold, but I keep her in place.

“I don’t know, do I?” I whisper into Katja’s ear, shoving my fingers even deeper inside her.

“Please,” she whispers back. “I’ll do whatever you want in the privacy of the penthouse. Just not here. Please don’t embarrass me. I’ll beg if I have to.”

The thought of her on her knees pleading, my cock resting heavy on her wet tongue, is a vision I can’t get out of my head, but I resist the urge of making it come to fruition right now. Bottom line is some of the men at that table are fucking assholes and sick perverts. I don’t want them seeing Katja’s bare ass, her wet pussy, or any part of her body.

I possessively want to keep every inch of her to myself.

“I’m good,” I call back to Z. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

The guests are beginning to snicker and crack jokes at Katja’s expense. Even though this little game began with me not giving a shit about what the men thought, I do fucking care. I don’t like for one second that they are starting to watch and God only knows what their fucked up imaginations are coming up with. Their side eyes are like daggers to my core. I’m growing more furious, and more primal in my urge to protect this woman up against me.

Stop looking, I want to shout out.

She’s Katja Belov. Not just the princess of Manhattan, but a motherfucking queen. The pedestrians around that table who like to pretend to be kings are nothing. Nothing and nobody when it compares to Katja.

I’m growing murderous with every look our way. They know something is happening behind the bar. They know.

I pull out my coated fingers, pull up her panties, and lower her dress. “Go to the penthouse.”

I don’t say anything more as I put the shots on a tray to return my attention to business. I need to focus. No more distractions.

Katja wobbles on her heels for a minute, blinks up at me, and then nods. She’s smart enough to not open her mouth and tempt me to change my mind with a snarky remark. She’s an intelligent woman and knows something changed quickly and drastically inside of me. But for her, it works to her advantage, and she takes the opportunity to flee.

Chapter Eighteen

KATJA

The sound of the elevator’s ding serves as the starting bell for a fight I’ve been waiting for. Unfortunately, I was in prime condition hours ago. After spending the entire afternoon and evening waiting for Dex to arrive, I’ve managed to work myself into a hot mess. As the hours ticked by, the fury I’d felt as I’d rushed from The Rooftop with the men’s catcalls chasing me had dimmed, replaced with anxiety and embarrassment.

Which is exactly why Dex left me stewing all day.

But I won’t let him win this time. I push to my feet, ready to go into battle.