Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(48)

The meal is not as appealing as it should be. I spend most of the time pushing food around on my plate and trying to divert my attention from the other end of the table. On more than one occasion, I feel Nikolai’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look up. With certainty, he will want to punish me for not eating, but with certainty, I don’t care.

When the plates are cleared, the group is ushered into another room for drinks and conversation. Mischa and I remain at each other’s side, wordless. But it isn’t long before Nikolai is making a fly by, issuing an order.

We are to meet him near the bathrooms in five minutes.

My limbs are stiff, and I get the distinct feeling that I’m walking the plank as we travel down the hall. Mischa, too, seems nervous, and when Nikolai arrives to meet us, words are exchanged between them.

I can only catch some of the conversation in their native language since they are speaking so fast. But from the gist of it, I understand two things. One is that Mischa thinks Nikolai is being an idiot, and the second is that Nikolai is in charge, so it doesn’t matter what Mischa thinks.

Nikolai issues him another order to stand guard outside the door, and then he is manhandling me inside. The lock clicks behind us, and I try to move away. I make it two steps before he has me trapped in his grip again.

“Why are you making this harder than it has to be?” he demands.

“I haven’t done anything,” I snap. “You are just angry because you can’t control this situation—”

His lips swallow the rest of my words. The kiss is violent and possessive, and his hold on me is brutal. In seconds, he wrecks the style I spent an hour perfecting when his fingers tangle in my hair. I should care that he’s acting like a child, but relief is all I feel.

He wants me and not her.

“Tell me you belong to me,” he whispers. “And I’ll fuck you sweet.”

I close my eyes and breathe him in. Cloves and smoke and danger. He has taken so much from me already, but it isn’t enough. He wants everything, and he won’t settle until he has my soul too. But I refuse to cave on this. I refuse to give him everything when I’m the one who loses in the end.

When he recognizes the rejection on my face, his eyes flash, and he forces me to my knees.

“Have it your way, then. I’ll fuck you dirty, pet.”

He unzips his pants and tugs me forward by his hold on my hair, rubbing my face against the bulge in his briefs. He is brick hard already, and there is a small damp spot where his pre-cum has leaked out. Evidence that he’s been thinking about this since dinner.

“Suck me,” he demands. “Show me how pretty a ballerina looks with a cock in her throat.”

I couldn’t move if I tried. His hold on me is unyielding, and regardless, his briefs are still in the way. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to remove them as he rubs himself against my face. Instead, he unties the top of my halter dress, letting the straps of silk fall away so my breasts are open and available to him. They are tender already, and I jump when his fingers brush over my nipple.

Nikolai seems to consider this a victory as he offers a cruel smile. “See, little star? It’s not so bad being a toy. I will fuck you whenever I want, and you will like it because you are filthy just like me.”

I try to shake my head because I want to deny it, but he makes his words true when he yanks down his briefs and shoves his cock in my face. I can smell his arousal, and it arouses me. I don’t want him to be right, but I need this dirty, depraved act with him. I need him to fuck me in this bathroom to prove I’m all he requires. And he’s going to make it a lesson I won’t forget when he forces his cock into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat.

I gag, and he pets my face.

“My dirty little doll,” he praises with a ragged breath. “You like this cock in your mouth?”

It’s a question I can’t answer because my mouth is full. He isn’t looking for an answer anyway. He’s only looking to fuck me.

And he does.

It’s rough, and it’s sloppy. This isn’t for any other purpose than bringing him immediate relief. His hips buck and roll while he drags himself in and out of my mouth. He’s too long to fit inside, but it makes no difference. It’s enough for him.

He inhales sharply and curses with every pass. I may be the one kneeling at his feet, but right now, he’s a slave to me. I want to suspend this moment in time. I want to keep him hanging on the edge of agony forever. But ultimately, the control always comes back to him.

Long, dark lashes sweep over his cheeks as he lurches forward, holding me in place as his dick shudders in my mouth. There is no conversation about pulling out. He doesn’t want to, and after my rejection, he’s determined to prove he owns me.

I’m not willing to give in so easily, and when he pulls from my mouth, I spit it on the floor. In the face of my defiance, he offers me a lazy smile.

“I should make you lick that up.”

“You could try,” I challenge.

“I think you would like it too much,” he says.

Using my hair as an anchor, he wipes his softening cock on my cheek, anointing the last of his cum into my skin. I glare up at him, and he offers me his hand. He leads me to the sink, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, shocked by what I see. Lipstick smeared and mascara running down my face. Tangled hair and blotchy skin.