More than a hit of ecstasy and a grope on the dance floor.
And it seems like this guy actually gets it.
Or maybe, I’m just twisting your basic alpha-hole into fantasy fodder. No. No, I’m not. He stepped in to rescue me. He was grumpy about it, but he did it. So he’s not just a selfish prick like the rest of them.
Plus, he just asked me how I wanted to be put to bed. That may be the most positive sign yet.
I turn and remember that I have puke-breath. I cover my mouth with my hand. “I need a mint. Or mouthwash. Or a toothbrush, if you’re willing to share.”
“You don’t need clean breath. I’m going to gag you.” He watches me intently like he’s gauging my reaction.
I look around, suddenly wondering if I’ve made a bad decision coming here. The place is gorgeous–small but posh and totally immaculate, not that it proves he’s sane. Especially considering it’s devoid of anything personal.
“Kidding.” He takes his warm jacket off my shoulders and tosses it onto the kitchen counter. “Unless you’re into it.” His voice is so low and gruff. Like a grumpy bear. I love it. “You can use my toothbrush.” He takes my hand and leads me into the large, luxurious bathroom.
The cottage is lovely, and I’m rolling, so it feels almost magical. He puts toothpaste on his toothbrush while I lean against the wall and watch.
“Have you been here for long?”
“Nyet. It’s a short-term rental. I’m passing through town.” He hands me the toothbrush.
“What do you do?”
“I work in shipping.”
I nod, not really absorbing his answer because I now have a close up view of his chest. It’s as well-defined as I’d suspected. Since I have no filters at the moment–not that I have many when I’m sober–I let my fingertips slip under his black t-shirt to feel his skin.
He watches me darkly. No sign of approval. “Brush your teeth,” he tells me.
My pussy clenches at the bossy command. I just might get spanked tonight! It’s looking good for me. I grin and start brushing.
He stands at the granite counter watching me, even though the normal thing to do would be to offer me some privacy in case I have to pee or something.
I finish brushing and rinse my mouth out. “Much better. Are you going to let me touch you now?”
His brows pop like he finds my request unexpected.
I bunch his shirt up in my fist and try to pull him closer, but he catches my wrist. “You like to be in charge, Kat?”
Several things hit me at once. One is the visceral reaction to his touch–the flush of heat, the desire to feel even more of that controlling strength. Then there’s the stern tone–it makes my knees weak. But also, he said my name.
“What did you call me?”
Nothing changes in his face. It feels like he takes him a long time to answer, but time gets wonky when you’re rolling. “What is your name? I thought that mudak at the rave called you Kat?”
Oh, right. That makes sense. I bob my head in agreement. “Kateryna. Kat. Kit-Kat. What’s your name?”
He locks eyes with me like it’s important. “Adrian.” Still holding my wrists, he propels me backward out the bathroom door and into the tiny bedroom / living room combo. “You haven’t answered any of my questions, dietka.”
“I forgot what they were.” I’m breathless. Horny. Madly in love. But that’s the molly talking.
“I asked if you like to be in charge.”
“I am in charge,” I sass him, shaking my hands free to put them on my hips. It’s true–I hold the power until I choose to surrender it. That’s what I told Delaney when she questioned my taste in sexual encounters.
He frowns. “I should have gagged you from the start,” he says, but he doesn’t move to overpower me. I still get the feeling he’s watching for my reaction to his words.
I giggle and attempt to slide both my hands up his shirt again. “Maybe you should try,” I purr.
He spins me around and claps a hand over my mouth, yanking my body against his.
I squeal my thrill against his hand.
“Like this, dietka? You like a little struggle? Hmm. Do you want to be overpowered?”
I wrestle him.
He brings his lips to my ear. “I need a real answer.” His tone is stern. “Yes or no.” He lifts his fingers partway off my mouth.
“Yes.”
“Yes, you want me to take charge?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Don’t call me Daddy.”
I turn around to face him again. “Should I call you sir?”
“Not that, either. On your knees.”
I almost orgasm from the command. I love his accent–it somehow makes him sound grumpier. Sensations are so heightened right now, I’m two strokes away from a full-body climax.
I drop to my knees and quickly work the button on his jeans. He settles one hand behind my head in a cradling way that gets me even more excited. I free his erection and take his thick length into my mouth. I wish I had more finesse, but I’m a little sloppy in general right now. Hopefully, I’ll make up for it with enthusiasm. I suction my lips around the head of his dick, tasting a drop of his salty essence.