“Acceptable,” he said finally. He pushed back the sides of his suitcoat and set his hands on his hips. “This thing tonight is important. I need you to be quiet and do exactly what I say.”
“You want me to be your obedient bitch?”
“That’d be perfect.” His eyes were intense, or perhaps it was the grip of his Glock peeking out of his suit. “My driver is here. Let’s go.”
When I reached for my coat in the closet beside the garage, Vasilije scowled. “No, you’ll look stupid. I’m sure the dress cost ten times what the coat did.”
“It’s freezing outside.”
“Good thing we’re not eating dinner outside, then.” He wrapped his hand around my wrist like a shackle, pulling me through the open door into the garage. His tone was mocking. “Besides, I can keep you warm.”
How? He was cold-blooded. It was twenty degrees colder in the garage and I pulled my arms tight against my body, as if it would do anything. The same man from my first night sat behind the wheel of the SUV. John, Vasilije had called him.
Vasilije yanked the backseat door open, I climbed in, and wasn’t surprised when he followed. At least the car interior was warm. I buckled my seatbelt and crossed my legs, as I watched him out of the corner of my eye.
He played on his phone while John opened the garage door, backed out, and set off. Vasilije must have told him where we were going already. I wanted to ask, but at the same time, a warning sounded in my mind. Maybe I was safer without his attention on me.
“Are you sore?” he asked, not bothering to look up from his phone, but loud enough I suspected so John would overhear. If it was an attempt to humiliate me, it was wasted. I was a bastard child in the outskirts of Kazan, where the community was tight-knit and religious. I’d lived my whole life with shame and rarely felt it anymore.
“Sore from when we fucked?” I said casually. “Not really.”
The phone was no longer the most interesting toy in the car for Vasilije, and his black eyes focused on me. “That’s surprising.” He threaded his tie through his fingers, smoothing it down. “Because it seemed like it hurt a lot.”
John’s gaze found mine in the rearview mirror, but I shrugged. “As I told you last night, I’m fine.”
“You feel different? Now that you’re not a virgin?”
The devil wanted to play, and I rose to meet him. “Not really, but I forgot to thank you.”
“For what? Making you a woman?”
I smiled widely. “For finishing so quickly.”
When the sound rang out of his seatbelt unbuckling, I readied for retaliation. Just like the last time we’d been in the back together, he flew across the seat and I wore his hands as a cold, unwanted collar. This time there wasn’t pressure, though. Only dominance.
“Was that you trying to hurt my feelings?” he snarled in my ear.
“No,” I said honestly. “You don’t have feelings.”
His smile was like mine, devoid of warmth or joy, and failed to reach his eyes. “You’re wrong, I can feel plenty of things.” He trapped my earlobe between his teeth and drew it away painfully until it snapped free of his hold. “Like what it feels like when your smart mouth is sliding up and down my cock.”
His hands were gone and he slid back into his seat, palming himself through his pants. My mouth went dry and my throat closed up in anticipation of his next move. He’d escalate the game as he tried to humiliate me.
His strong hand rubbing on his crotch was distracting, almost mesmerizing.
“You want me to go down on you?” I whispered. “Right now?” I flicked my gaze to the driver who was within arm’s reach.
Vasilije oozed confidence. “I told you tonight’s an important dinner. Your mouth can take the edge off for me.”
He was so smug about it, expecting me to balk, and I savored the moment. “All right,” I announced plainly. “Just be careful of my makeup.”
22
Vasilije’s sexy mouth parted to say something, but he was wordless. I undid my seatbelt, said a silent prayer John would keep his focus on the road and not kill us all while I had my lips wrapped around a Markovic dick, and reached for Vasilije’s zipper.
I stared at him as he let me undo his pants and stroke him through the cotton of his designer underwear. He was already erect, filling my hand, and his eyes were terrifyingly gorgeous when they burned with lust.
“Oh, fuck,” he uttered. “You get me so goddamn hard.” He cupped the back of my neck, staying clear of my styled up-do, and pushed my head down into his crotch right as I tugged the elastic over his erection.
It was dark in the back seat, and since Vasilije was sitting behind the driver, it was unlikely John could see anything. But he could definitely hear the wet sounds as I lowered my mouth over the thick head of Vasilije’s cock and sucked it down as far as I could go. And if the driver couldn’t hear that, he had to notice the profanity streaming from Vasilije’s mouth, some of it in English, and some in Serbian.