You Don't Own Me (The Russian Don 1)

‘Good morning,’ I greet. Outwardly, I’m as cool as a cucumber, inwardly, an irrational, hot mess.

He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. ‘Is your pussy naked under that dress?’ he asks.

Damn him. If it was his intention to pull the rug out from under my feet he has succeeded with flying colors. My breathing is definitely faster and more audible.

Sarcastically he raises one eyebrow.

‘Er … no.’

‘Take your pants off. You are never to wear any again while you are in this house, or when you are out with me.’

My eyes widen. The fuck? The arrogance! ‘What about when I have my period?’ I ask caustically. ‘Do I just bleed all over your furniture?’

‘I don’t remember forbidding the use of tampons.’

My only defense is to look contemptuous and dismissive as I take my panties off and scrunch them up in my fist. ‘Well, if it’s all the same to you, it makes me feel safer to use panties during that time.’

‘It’s not all the same to me,’ he states proudly.

Overbearing bastard. ‘Why should you care? It’s not like we’ll be having sex then?’ I challenge.

‘Whatever gave you the impression we won’t be having sex then?’ he oozes.

I recoil. ‘What?’

He smiles fiendishly. ‘Why Dahlia moy, don’t tell me you have never had sex while you are bleeding.’

‘Of course not,’ I say haughtily.

‘Then you have missed something special. Even a dog knows when a woman is about to come on her period because her hormones are going crazy. She’s like a piece of tinder. One little spark and she will burn like a fucking bonfire.’

My heart kicks. This is so far removed from what I am used to in a man.

‘Come here,’ he instructs quietly.

I walk up to his desk and look down at him. My heart is racing and I can already feel my body responding. It’s truly incredible how my body starts reacting as soon as I come into his vicinity. It is as if his fingertips are already on my spine and moving downwards. Every moment spent in his company is rich with excitement and pleasure or throbbing with anticipation. I would never have believed such a wild and crazy experience would open up for little ole me a few months ago.

He tilts his head. ‘Over here,’ he invites coolly.

However, I have to admit I really don’t care to be treated like a whore. Come here. Squat. Open your legs. I grit my teeth, but obey his command and walk around the desk.

He rolls his chair back so a space between him and his desk opens up. ‘Sit in front of me,’ he instructs.

I glance at his desk, lick my lower lip and ask, ‘Don’t you want to move those papers out of the way first?’

He doesn’t miss a beat. ‘No.’

‘Do you want me to move them out of the way?’

‘No. I want you to follow my instruction,’ he says with elaborate politeness.

Ugh. He deserves to perish horribly. I get between him and the desk and hop onto the surface, my legs dangling down. Unconsciously my eyes stray down to his crotch and he is hard and bulging under the expensive fabric of his slacks. I avert my gaze quickly and he laughs. A taunting cold sound.

‘You didn’t come to me yesterday,’ he says softly.

‘I … er … I … got drunk.’

‘So I heard.’ His eyes seem to glow with promises and danger, and I like that hint of the deadly and the unknowable. Does that make me a bad girl?

My pulse starts throbbing hard. ‘Well, you did leave the champagne in a very accessible place,’ I reason.

‘That’s true,’ he concedes generously.

‘I could make it up to you,’ I suggest.

He takes my right ankle in his warm hand. It’s like a molten spike of sensation, but I don’t fidget or react. I keep my palms firmly glued to the surface of the desk on either side of me. With a mocking smile he removes my shoe and lets it drop to the floor. A half-grin tugs at his mouth. ‘Oh yeah?’

That half grin turns my insides to mush. My face feels flushed. His hand on my ankle is doing things to me, making me tingle. ‘Yeah,’ I whisper, my voice husky.

He takes off the other shoe. ‘How?’ he purrs.

Jesus! My brain feels completely addled. ‘I don’t know. I do give an incredible blowjob.’

Something flashes in his eyes. He drops the shoe. ‘That’s good to know, but I’m afraid, we Russians, we’re big on honoring debts and keeping our word. If we say we’ll be somewhere in an hour, we make sure we’re there.’

I think for a moment. ‘We Americans are too. And that is why I am sitting on your fucking table without my panties.’

He eyes me hungrily as if I’m food or prey. ‘It warms my heart to hear that Americans honor their word.’