Torrid (Sordid 2)

She failed.

I wasn’t ready for the sight of her wearing my robe, but strangled back the knee-jerk reaction of demanding she take it off. Drawing this out would be fun, and I couldn’t deny there was something interesting about seeing her like this.

“That’s mine,” I said casually. “I didn’t say you could wear it.”

Her hand clenched tighter and she took a step back. Her voice was whisper-quiet. “You took my clothes.”

“Yeah. So, you’re naked under there?”

For a micro-second, she looked at me like I was a fucking idiot, and then it disappeared. Her expression went blank.

No answer was all the answer I needed. “How does it feel?” I asked. “You like my robe wrapped around your body? Hanging on your tits? Clinging to your ass?” Every step of my approach made her eyes twice as wide. “You like having my smell all over you?”

Her breath hitched.

I seized the knot of the belt, wrapping my fist around it and jerking her up against me. She stumbled into my chest and flung a hand out, but I didn’t release my grip. Instead, I ran a hand over the part of the robe that covered her thighs, moving up until I was massaging her pussy through the fabric.

“It’s so soft,” I said. “Feels so good against your skin, doesn’t it?”

“B’layd!” She spat the foreign word at me with horror. “Don’t touch me.”

I stroked her, pressing my hand deep between her legs, and got her to moan. I couldn’t tell if it was all shock, or if there was pleasure mixed in, too. “I’m just touching what’s mine,” I said. “If you don’t like it, take off the robe.”

Oksana wasn’t looking at me. Her gaze was focused on my brow, only giving the illusion of attention. She blinked furiously as I continued to slide my fingers over the robe. If she let me keep going, I’d have my hand inside soon. I’d already worked it beneath one side, bringing my touch closer.

She shuddered and her breath went ragged. Her chest heaved, struggling to process the air.

Her warm hand closed on top of mine on the knot, and I paused. “I’ll give you what you want.” She swallowed a breath, gathering strength. “Will you do the same? Please, Vasilije?”

Her tone was soft, but the words had meaning. Why did she hate being touched so much? She eased my hand away, and I allowed it. Relief visibly poured through her. The space was good for me, too. Blood was already pumping straight to my dick, and I didn’t fucking like that at all. She was Russian.

Pussy is pussy, my dick fired back at me.

I turned and went into the bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, and leaned back, propped up on my arms. I wanted to take the robe off her. Slide my hands inside and peel it down slowly one side at a time, torturing her as I revealed every naked inch of her body. But making her do it under my command was better. I wanted her overwhelmed and buckling beneath my control.

She padded cautiously out into the light of the bedroom and stood before the bed, her gaze zeroed in on my chest. She said she’d give me what I wanted, but she hadn’t a fucking clue what that was.

“Off.”

The single word from me charged the air. It crackled with intensity as her trembling hands fell to the belt. Electricity sparked across my skin as she slowly worked the knot free. I’d given my staff orders, and I constantly told Alek what to do, but this . . . this felt different. My pulse kicked. Satisfaction flowed in my veins, stronger than the buzz from my joint.

“Look at me,” I ordered. I wanted to see everything in her eyes as she became vulnerable.

But she kept her gaze on my chest and shook her head, sucking down a huge breath. “I can’t.”

Oksana moved fast, like she’d gotten a burst of courage. She shrugged out of the thick black fabric, and it dropped as a curtain to the floor. I—

Tits.

Her creamy skin and pink nipples were so fucking sexy, I forgot how to breathe. I liked the way her natural breasts sat like teardrops instead of the round globes of fake tits. I wanted to run my tongue down the curve of her flat belly, journeying on to the thin patch of groomed stubble covering her pussy.

My cock snapped to attention, jerking in my pants. She was too skinny. I could see the lines of her ribs, but otherwise she was flawless. Her waist was tiny, but her hips curved, and she had legs for fucking days.

“Sranje,” I swore under my breath. I dragged my gaze up to her eyes, but she refused to look at me. Her face was flushed red.