Dirty Obsessions - The Lion and The Mouse

Forever, Ava.

There was no other choice.

I thought back to that moment in her dressing room.

I lifted my cock up and smacked her ass with it. Those fat cheeks jiggled. With the other hand, I grabbed her bun that had already been coming apart. I gently pulled her head back, forcing her into an arch.

I tapped her ass with my cock again.

She groaned in frustration and tried to get up. “You’re being evil.”

I whispered to my lovely ballerina, “Did you know that I could not give you time?”

“No.”

“No?” I slid the wet mushroomed tip of my cock along her skin, unintentionally teasing myself. Staying out of her was getting hard. Damn near unbearable. Here I was trying to teach her a lesson, and I was the one truly learning.

“No.” She pushed back, rubbing her ass on the length, showing me who was truly the boss.

I growled in desire and kept her pinned to the table. “Did you know I would be coming back no matter what?”

“No.” She slowly wiggled her hips like a cat in heat, yearning for something to hump.

“Hmmm.” I was barely holding on. “Did you know I would have gotten on my knees and begged?”

“No, Misha. Please.”

“You should have known.” I thrust back into her, dotting each word with my cock. “Time? Space? There is none with us.”

“Oh!”

I didn’t let go of the bun, loving the way her back was arched, relishing in the way those breasts bobbed in the mirror’s reflection. “I would find you. No matter where you went.”

“I wouldn’t hide,” she whimpered.

Those words set me on fire.

Her sex spasmed around my length, sucking me in deeper. Stretching tight around my cock. My body drummed in ecstasy.

“Mine,” I growled and gripped those hips, sinking deep into her and then pulling out. Over and over. Sliding and thrusting.

Like a deranged man, I screamed, “I told you forever!”

“Oh,” she moaned.

Bending Ava over more, I lowered my voice, falling into the tunneled ecstasy of her. “I told you forever, my love.”

Back in my condo, I shook my head and gazed in the mirror some more. Thoughts of Ava pushed the weariness out of my eyes.

In the middle of all the chaos, there she stood. Her presence anchored me. Due to her, there was quiet within the storm.

A knock came at my door.

I returned to messing with the bow. “Who is it?”

“It’s your batya.”

After the amazing sex with Ava, I headed back to my condo and, to my surprise, my godfather Rolan sat on the couch next to Maxwell. He was supposed to be in Prague dealing with my father’s funeral until I got there. Instead, he’d decided to harass and force me to come back with him.

I twisted the bow in my fingers. “Come in.”

Rolan stomped inside. With his muscular body and height, there would be no soundless steps or gentle walking. He stomped like the bear that he’d been nicknamed after.

Rolan stood behind me in the mirror. “What are you wearing?”

“Brioni.”

Brioni was an Italian fashion house that focused on menswear for Europe’s rich and famous. Although their collection included leather goods, their fame came from perfectly tailored suits that started at $6,000 and kept on rising.

Rolan sucked his teeth. “Kazimir and you have an unhealthy addiction to Brioni.”

“I started wearing Brioni first. He copied.”

“Doesn’t matter. You both should branch out to other designers.”

“Why change perfection?”

Rolan studied my fingers fumbling around. “Having trouble with your bow as usual?”

“Yes.” I turned around.

Rolan raised his hands, undid my mess, and started tying it properly. “Mikhail, why a simple black bow? Why not add some color? Gold or pink?”

“It’s a ballet not a rave, batya.” I studied him.

Rolan kept his head cleanly shaven and his gray goatee shaped up. Tonight, he wore a tuxedo with no bow. His tuxedo jacket appeared exotic with a royal champagne print. His biceps stretched the flamboyant jacket while his big thighs pushed against his black pants.

Unlike the rest of us, when he wore a suit, he could never blend in. It was clear he was a gangster of some sort. My father had tattooed roses around Rolan’s throat after his mother Roza had died. More tattoos covered his hands—holy crosses and skulls.

Rolan finished my bow. “There.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re not wearing hot pink.”

He held out his hands and did a slow turn. “Do you like?”

“I like it. It’s elegant but wild. I expected nothing less from you, batya.”

Grinning, Rolan yanked me into a huge bear hug. “You make me happy with that compliment.”

“Would you let me go?”

“Oh, I won’t wrinkle you!” He released me and patted down my jacket.

Maxwell entered, ending our discussion.

I perused my new friend. He looked damn good in the tuxedo I’d ordered for him but he didn’t need much help in that department. Light brown skin. Hazel eyes. Tall with a good bit of muscle. He complimented the outfit. If anything, the tuxedo should be happy to be on him.