The Player (The Game Maker 3)

"Submit to me," Dmitri grated. "I am giving you what you need--because you are a wicked girl."

Dmitri was making me into one. Suddenly, I was arching my back. "Yes, yes . . ."

He peeled the dress wide, uncovering my tits.

The others' reactions--hooded lids and parted lips--made my nipples even harder. Dmitri himself was virtually a stranger to me, and now three others were getting a show.

"Feel how wet you're getting!" he murmured, doing those heavenly/sinful things with his fingers. "You crave their eyes on you."

I did! This primal need to be controlled by him--and watched by others--pulsed through me.

Sensing my surrender, he nuzzled my ear. "Doesn't it feel good when you do as I say?"

My moans grew constant. I was going to dissolve in front of these strangers. I shook so hard my breasts quivered for my audience.

Dmitri pulled my head back to his chest with a decisive tug on my hair, which made me--and Red--cry out. "You want them to know how wet you are, don't you?" He delved those two fingers deep inside me as his thumb worked my clit.

"Ahhh!" So close, so close . . . Oh, dear God, four people were going to watch me come.

"Shall I show them my fingers glistening from your pussy?"

"No, nooo." My face heated just to think of it. Showing my tits was one thing--I'd been known to flash them myself--but not something so intimate!

Yet Dmitri brought his soaked fingers up, revealing them by the light of my neon collar. Red gave a cry at the sight and writhed. The dark-haired guy groaned, and his body jerked. The blond bit out a curse, gritting his teeth, struggling not to come.

I went wild. Couldn't catch my breath. About to lose my mind. "Gonna . . . scream. Don't let me . . . scream."

"I won't. Just take a taste. Then I'll bring you off." His other hand took over, frigging my clit as he brought his wet fingers to my mouth. With his hot breaths against my neck, he commanded, "Suck."

So fucking forbidden. Would I really do this in front of others? I couldn't form sentences. "How . . . you . . ." I trailed off, whispering, "What's happening to me?"

"Obey, Vika."

With a cry, I leaned toward his fingers. I sucked them, tasting myself. My eyes rolled back in my head, my hips grinding against his other hand.

In an agonized tone, Dmitri bit out, "They're watching you. Staring. Show them how much my wicked girl loves to come."

I mindlessly licked his fingers as he withdrew them.

He clamped that palm over my mouth. With his other hand, he shoved his fingers into me and vibrated his grip--

Edge. Over. RELEASE.

I exploded, screaming against his palm as my body spasmed. His mouth was at my ear, his voice ramping up the strength of this already blinding orgasm. He told me how beautiful I was. How he'd never forget this sight or the feel of me unraveling in his arms.

He told me I was perfect.

Floating. Bliss. This man.

In time, I came down from the strongest climax I'd ever had. That I'd ever dreamed of having.

He uncovered my mouth. Still murmuring praises, he lovingly petted me until I had to move his other hand away.

All I could hear was our breaths. I buried my face against his neck and inhaled his scent. I licked his skin as gratitude and affection bloomed inside me.

The music of the club grew louder and louder.

The club.

Reality returned. I'd orgasmed that violently. Here. In front of strangers.

I gathered the courage to raise my face. Red was out of breath, her breasts heaving. She'd collapsed against the brown-haired guy, and he had his head tilted back. The blond was gasping, had obviously just come.

They'd all gotten off while watching me.

Mortification overwhelmed me. I couldn't face them.

And Dmitri? I turned to him. His pupils were blown, his jaw clenched. He looked crazed to come. Our interlude wasn't even over.

I guessed he planned to fuck me right on the table. The thought made me whimper with need--and that alarmed the hell out of me. He could have done anything to my body just now.

Anything.

Even though I'd trusted him to protect me, had asked him to. Another man betraying me.

I hadn't wanted him to betray me.

I yanked on the zipper of my dress, putting it back to rights as best as I could. "Let go of me." Escape.

"Vika?" He sounded baffled.

I struggled against his hold. Between gritted teeth, I said, "Let. Go."

He finally released me, and I scrambled up.

"What's wrong?" He adjusted his stiff cock with a wince.

"You were supposed to look out for me. Not talk me into putting on a show for strangers!" Unable to meet the others' eyes, I rushed from the room.

Dmitri was right behind me. "Just wait, Vika!"

"Leave me alone!" I zigzagged through the crowd to get to our table. Karin and Benji peered up at the huge Russian behind me.

"I'm going home!" I told them. I grabbed my purse and headed toward the exit.

Before I could hail a cab, Dmitri caught up with me outside and snared my wrist. "Come back to the hotel with me!" His expression said he was about to lose it. That lifeline look now scared me. "We will talk--"

"I trusted you, and you took advantage of me! I don't ever want to see you again!"

"You do not mean that." His eyes darted, as if he had no idea how to handle this rapidly deteriorating situation.

Pete, Benji, and Karin rushed out of the club, gazes bouncing from me to Dmitri.

In a low tone, he said, "Come with me, Victoria. Now."

I yanked my arm from his grip. "Just leave me alone!"

My family would ask questions later. For now, they were in protective mode, flanking me.

Pete stepped in front of me. "Mr. Sevastyan, this would be a good time for you to go."

His eyes locked on Pete, and his face turned deadly, as if he was about to tear out my cousin's throat with his teeth. "Do not ever get between me and her." His fists clenched and unclenched. "You do not want to do that, Peter."

Anyone would've been terrified, but Pete didn't back down. "We can all pick this up tomorrow when tempers cool, huh?"

Dmitri turned to me, losing his murderous look. His brows drew together, but I shook my head. "I told you--I never want to see you again."

His eyes dimmed, and that wrecked me. Even though I hated him at this moment.

"As you wish." He turned and left.

I watched his towering form striding away, scarcely noticing when tears began to fall.

CHAPTER 12

________________________________________

___________________________________

Pausing at the door to my parents' modest ranch house, I adjusted the basket of dirty laun

dry on my hip and listened.

Pete said, "You'd have to see the way Sevastyan looks at her."

"He looked that way before she told him to piss off forever," Benji pointed out. "Sevastyan did something in the back of the club that she was not down with, and he got the message loud and clear."

I'd refused to tell them what had happened. This morning, as the events from the night flooded into my hungover consciousness, I'd thrown an arm over my face. I'd gotten sexually Svengali-ed by Dmitri.

I was in Benji's camp. I didn't think the Russian would call. I replayed the light dimming in his eyes and felt a pang. How could I have become so attached to the man in two nights? Especially after what he'd done to me?

I'd cried over that asshole. I hadn't cried even when I'd ended things with Brett!

"I'll lay ten large he calls," Pete said.

Benji answered, "I'll take that action."

I yanked open the door, striding into the living room to glare at everyone.

Pete sat in a careworn recliner, practicing cards on a TV tray. Benji was on the lumpy family-size couch with camera parts spread over the coffee table. Mom and Dad sat next to each other on their love seat. She sewed a dress; he worked on his laptop.

Karin had just deposited Cash into his playpen by the couch; he gurgled in welcome. Gram and Russian Al sat at a fold-up bridge table, drinking sherry out of little crystal glasses and playing chess.

Through the sliding glass door, I could see my aunts and uncles out by the pool with all their kids. Though my younger cousins were mini grifters who already cheated at Marco Polo, I would still dominate the water.

After laundry. I cocked the basket higher on my hip. "You guys are betting on me? Like I'm a doped horse?"

Mom set aside her sewing to give me a hug. "Technically, the boys are betting on Dmitri. He's the doped horse in this scenario." She'd covered the circles under her stunning chocolate-brown eyes with an expert application of makeup, but I recognized the scent of the brand. Of course she wasn't sleeping, was too worried about Dad.

"Let's don't say Dmitri's name again, okay?" I muttered, my head hurting me worse than a busted flush.

Benji snorted. "You want us not to talk about the elephant in the room?"

Al piped up. "Very beeg elephant." He stroked his long gray beard. Maybe he grew it so long to make up for his bald head.

"Victoria, dear," my grandmother said, "why don't you explain to us exactly what happened in the club with your rich Russian gentleman?"