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

‘Of course not,’ I interrupt acidly.

‘Mine has seconds,’ he finishes.

My jaw juts out. ‘So does mine.’

With unhurried movements he unfastens the front clasp of my bra. My breasts burst free, and unfortunately for me, my nipples are already hard. I take a deep breath and sneak a look at my watch. Seven seconds have passed. He takes the globes in his hands and kneads them gently.

I smile tightly at him and he laughs confidently.

Casually, I let my eyes slide towards my wrist. Twenty seconds. His dark head moves downwards towards my chest. He captures a nipple and suckles it, and hot velvet alert! His mouth is so hot and cunning I feel a jolt go right down to my sex.

Shit. You need to find a way to distract yourself.

I close my eyes and try to think of a particularly bad manuscript that I once read. It started off with a sex scene that was so unintentionally funny it deserved some sort of turkey award. The girls and I laughed for …

Oh God! Zane has captured a nipple between his teeth. I turn the moan that rises up my throat into a kind of throat clearing cough. At chest level the slick bastard stops and chuckles. He thinks he is so badass. Someone should tell him, he who laughs last, laughs longest.

His hand starts moving up my thigh and, what the hell? My legs, as if separate from me, part sluttishly to give him access. I lean back on the palms of my hands and close my eyes. Take deep breaths. If he can resist you, you can resist him. You’re not a Fury for nothing.

One finger enters me. Oh. My. God. It has to be at least one minute by now. He slips another finger in. Then his thumb gets in on the act. It starts circling my clit like some sort of killer shark. Damn, if that doesn’t feel good.

My head starts feeling light. Against my will my hips rise up, a little, but it is definitely a rise. My belly feels like it’s starting to melt. Oh, hell. The throbbing in my sex becomes ferocious. It’s all getting to be too much. No. No. No. I’m not going to … come. Fuck it. I’m not. I’m just not. Oh no …

‘About to lose it, little fox?’ he mocks.

‘Don’t … Fucking … Call … meee … litt … Ahhhhh.’

The world begins to spin and spiral. Sparks of heat land on my skin. My head drops back and blood explodes in my brain. I lose all control and climax, screaming ferociously at him. Reality returns slowly. The fire inside me dims and I’m faced with reality. The ceiling is sky blue. Nice actually. I straighten my head and meet his sharp eyes.

He raises a condescending eyebrow.

‘A bit of humility would be an attractive quality to nurture,’ I say unsteadily.

‘I wonder how you would have crowed if you had won.’

‘I wouldn’t have.’

‘Well, we’ll never know,’ he says carelessly, and pushes me down on my back.

A sheaf of papers and a pen press into my flesh. I close my eyes and hear the metal rasp of his zipper. Fresh desire tightens my belly. I want his flesh inside me, and he knows it too. He grips my bare ass with hot, rough hands and pulls my hips towards him. He forces his cock between my thighs and he rams it home, stretching me. I gasp. So full.

‘You’re so fucking tight,’ he growls, his breath rough and ragged, and his fierce eyes kindling like live coals.

He begins to thrust. Hard and slow, then faster and faster. The force makes me breathless, and my body arches and jerks on the desk. Hell, the man’s a demon. With a great roar and his whole body shuddering, he comes. His fluid mingles with mine, hot and sweet.

For a few seconds longer he remains inside me. Then he withdraws and I lift myself up. As he pulls up his trousers and zips up, I hop off the table, do up my bra and pick up my shoes. Wordlessly I start walking towards the door.

‘By the way I don’t like the way you dress.’

The cheek of the man. My temperature shoots up. I turn around and look at him with a withering expression.

‘Noah has arranged for a personal dresser he knows to come and point you in the right direction. Tell her you need an entire wardrobe. Evening dresses, beachwear, casual wear. The whole works.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Get something for tonight. I’m taking you to dinner.’

I don’t respond. Let that be my little rebellion.

Zane

I shake out a cigarette, tap it, light it and take a deep draw. Nicotine fills my lungs. I turn my chair around to face the window. The vista beyond is my favorite part of the garden. No one ever goes in it except my Japanese gardener, Akio. Most people who stand at my window and look out will see a bunch of rock, some shrubbery and some stones, but if they looked, really looked, they’d see its real beauty.