Closing my eyes, I look at the change in the calendar. I’m not surprised Ivan didn’t tell me because for all the talking we do at home, none of it ever has to do with work. He’s adamant work stays separate.
Once I got the idea for an acquisition and tried to talk to him about it. He flat refused to discuss it, telling me to save it for the office. When I tried to keep talking, he shut me up by forcing me on my knees and filling my mouth with his cock. So. Fucking. Hot.
“Two minutes,” I mutter before I go into Ivan’s office even though he doesn’t like me in there. All he can think about is fucking me and it’s too hard to concentrate on work when I’m with him, he explained, clearly annoyed—with me or himself, he never said.
Tim’s response is to laugh because it’s never two minutes. I close the door when I go in, not wanting Tim to hear us argue. I’m not going shopping. I have enough clothes to last me until I’m forty.
While, yes, most of my clothes are still at home, I planned to go there tomorrow to get what I want to take to England with me. I’m not looking forward to it. I have called Abuelo every night this week, but he wouldn’t talk to me. Tomorrow, I won’t give him a choice, and hopefully once I’m back he will stop being such an ass. Oddly, I can’t dredge up any angst over the situation with him. We’ll work it out, and if we don’t...then we don’t.
Ivan’s head comes up at the sound of me turning the lock. An eyebrow raises as he leans back in his chair. “Do not start something you are unable to finish, love.”
Okay, I know “love” is one of those terms of endearments British people throw around, but every single time he says it my heart skips. He uses it far more often than he does “poppet,” which puts a smile on my face every time.
“I’m not going shopping.” I make it to the front of his desk and cross my arms, ready to do battle.
He does that breathy exhalation laugh thing as he shakes his head. Black, unforgiving, unending, his eyes meet mine. “Yes, you are. While we are in Manchester we will be attending no less than five formal events, not including the two wedding ceremonies.
“Aari is a multi-millionaire.” It’s the first time Ivan’s mentioned Gemma’s fiancé. “His parents, not quite but close. Designer dresses will be everywhere. I think you are far more gorgeous in the yoga pants and my shirts you love to wear so much than any woman has a right to be. You do not. Every time you make the least amount of effort, you outshine every woman around you, yet you still shrink when another well-dressed woman who could not compare to you gives you a hard glare.”
His jaw hardens. “Mishka is a vicious little viper in the best of times. I will not allow you to feel anything but beautiful while dealing with her. You are going shopping and you are going to spend so much money it would make a lesser man weep.
“Then you are going to be a good little girl and wear those clothes with the confidence of a woman who feels she is as beautiful as I know she is. I will not even bitch about you wearing makeup, but I will be more rewarding if you do not.”
I blink, finally. Cutting the connection is painful but necessary as my head goes down. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want to run fast and far and find a hole to bury myself deep. Only we are long past that and he’d follow, and he’d find me and he will know. I won’t be able to hide it. There is a part of me terrified I’m not hiding it enough now.
I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m behind his desk. He pushes away, giving me the room I need. He shakes his head, tries to catch my hand when I reach for him.
“Christ, Christina, not here.” He groans as I go down on my knees and my other hand moves fast to free him.
I do the only thing I can: I show him what I can’t tell him. How is this a bad thing? Why do women complain about this? I love this so fucking much, the taste of him, the feel of him, knowing I’m driving him out of his mind, feeling his body tense and shiver.
Maybe if this was all he wanted or he demanded from me, I wouldn’t like it as much. But I was more likely than Ivan to want this. If he was worried he wouldn’t last long, he sometimes started by guiding my mouth to him. Except he admitted it wasn’t as helpful as he thought it would be because watching me get so turned while I did it was even better sometimes than my mouth. I was embarrassed at first about touching myself in front of him; that faded fast when Ivan urged me on, whispering the most dirty, filthy words about hot it was.
As he always does, he takes over in the end, his hands going into my hair, holding me in place. Even this part, his release, I never flinch from it, never consider anything other than taking everything he gives me. It’s his pleasure I savor, the knowledge of how good I make him feel. I get it now, when he said pleasure is at its ultimate when it is goes both ways.
His hands soften, cupping my face, he draws me to him. Settling me into his lap, he holds me close. Slowly, thoroughly, his mouth is owning every inch of me. This part, the end is almost as good as all the rest when he pulls me into his arms, holding me close, his kisses soft and gentle, lingering over my mouth, my face, my neck. The way his gravel voice becomes soft as he tells me how much I please him, how grateful he is for me, and laughs at the way I blush.
“Eight years I have had this office; never once have I even imagined doing this until you came crashing into my life. Now, you are going to pay the price. If I cannot find someone fast, you will be doing this on a daily basis. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid.”
I laugh as I kiss his cheek.
“I look forward to it,” I promise him, running a finger down his scar. I haven’t asked about it even though I desperately want to know everything. I won’t. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. He hasn’t talked about the abuse he suffered from his mother’s boyfriend. The memories, the past he shared mainly had to do with his sisters and their life in Manchester. Rarely did he mention his mother or the hardships he went through.
“I am most serious. It is hard enough to get any work done with you so close. Knowing you are willing, that you want this too, is a distraction I do not need.”
“How does that make you so grumpy? Poor Ivan, a woman willing and greedy for your cock. Only you would complain. No one would know to look at you that you just had your cock most thoroughly sucked. How I can still taste you on my tongue,” I
taunt him.
A growl and he’s ravaging my mouth, sucking deep on my tongue. My butt hits his desk with a thump. He’s in between my legs and his mouth is on me before I can even breathe.
I’m so close it doesn’t take long before I’m fighting not to scream as I come. Ivan doesn’t even slow down; holy crap, this man is gifted. If only he would stop before I was in tears, it would be absolutely—oh fucking god. His hand is on my mouth to cover the scream I can’t hold in.
The bastard is laughing in my ear. “Naughty girl, no screaming in the office.”
I’m lifted off the desk, back into his lap. I rest my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him. “I’m not the naughty girl. It’s all your fault for making me scream, you wretched man. I don’t know why I like it so much.”
His phone beeps, our eyes go wide as they meet. Holy fuck, did Tim hear that?