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He remains deathly still. ‘Because I asked you to.’

My throat is so tight the words stick. ‘And after I have brushed my hair?’

‘What do you think comes after that?’

‘We fuck?’

His eyes are fierce and penetrating but his voice is so light it is almost playful. ‘Tsk, tsk, why so crude, rybka?’

There are so many ways I can do this. I can do it angrily, flirtations, carelessly, sexily, coldly, or even reluctantly, but I decide to own it. Why not? I love the thought of taking off my clothes and brushing my hair for him, then watching the lust come into his eyes, seeing his erection grow right before my eyes. I want to feel beautiful, desired, needed by him.

Why pretend he is forcing me when I desperately want to do it?

I kick off my shoes, grasp the edges of my sweatshirt, lift it upwards, and tug it over my head. Shivering in the chill of cold air touching my skin I let the sweatshirt fall to the ground. His eyes roam my exposed skin hungrily. The chill I felt goes away and a familiar warmth

I unzip my jeans, push them down my legs, and take off my socks. There are sock marks around my ankles, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I undo the clasp on my bra and let my breasts pop out of them. Unconsciously, I sigh with relief that the restrains are gone. I feel the lace scrape my skin as it travels down my arm. With a whisper it touches the ground.

I hook my fingers into the waistband of my panties and drag them down my legs. Then I am standing there naked, my back straight, my bare toes gripping the carpet and my breasts aching for him.

He takes his feet away from the table he has been resting them on.

‘Sit,’ he invites softly.

I draw in a shuddering breath and walk to the table. Going around it I sit facing him, my palms flat on either side of me, my knees close together. The glass is cold under my bottom and thighs and goose bumps scatter my skin.

I lift my head and look at him.

Without saying a word he gets up, goes to the bathroom, and comes back with a hairbrush. He holds it out to me. I take it and he resumes his position on the sofa. I turn my head to the side and looking at a point on the curtain, drag the brush through my hair, the downward sweep slow and rhythmic. When all my hair swings straight and shiny I put the brush down on the table beside me and look up at him.

His eyes are veiled, but something raw throbs between us. His eyes slide down to the tips of my breasts. I feel his gaze like fingers, full of warmth and texture. The invisible fingers slide lower.

‘Spread your legs,’ he says, his voice thick.

I open my legs and expose my swollen wet sex to him.

‘Do you know your pussy is … quivering. It’s all soft and pink and ripe and quivering for me?’

I draw in a sharp breath as he reaches out a hand and lets his fingers slip into the opening between my legs. A finger rubs my swollen clit and I gasp.

‘Lean forward,’ he whispers.

I take a shuddering breath. I know what he wants me to do. He wants me to spread my sex on the glass.

‘Why do you want me to do these humiliating acts?’

‘I want to know that I have total control over you. If you can say no, then I am still not your master.’

To hunt the snake the eagle must fly into the undergrowth. I spread my legs and press my bare sex on the cold glass. My breasts hang forward.

He gets off the sofa and lies down under the table so he right under my spread open, slick flesh.

‘Now rub that naughty pussy until she comes,’ he says.

I close my eyes. Some part of me wants to obey. Wants to do these degrading things while he watches. So I allow him to lie under me while I shamelessly angle my dripping sex on the glass and rub myself on it until I climax. Even after I climax I don’t get up and walk away. I know its not over until his cock is buried deep inside me … and I am waiting for that.

He gets up off the floor and comes to stand in front of me. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are full of lust and triumph. My deviant hands immediately start unbuckling his belt. His cock is so hard it jumps out into my hand. He stuffs it into my mouth and I suck until an animal sound emanates from his throat and he explodes deep inside my throat.


Tags: Georgia Le Carre The Russian Don Erotic