“This feels like I don’t want to fuck you?” I ask, rocking up enough to dig my cock even harder into her stomach.
“No. Hearing you fuck that other woman made me feel like you didn’t want to fuck me. Plus, you left me that day after you fingered me. Why do you keep doing that?”
I run my hand one last time over her perfect ass before slowly sliding my fingers out of her and pulling her pants up. With a groan, I suck my fingers clean, wondering how much more of this I can take before I lose all control and end up fucking her for three days straight.
“Come here,” I say, laying down on the bed and pulling her with me. I grab a couple of extra pillows and stack them under her sore ankle so it’s elevated before wrapping my body around hers. I pull her tighter against me, spooning her. She relaxes into me, but I feel her body softly shudder and know she’s still crying.
Lifting up enough so I can see her, I push her hair back and brush away the tears I see falling on her cheek.
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
She turns her face, locking her eyes on mine. “What?”
“The blonde you saw, Chantal, I didn’t fuck her.”
“But I heard you.”
“You heard Artyom fucking her in my room. She was supposed to be for me, but I couldn’t do it.”
“What do you mean she was supposed to be for you? Is she a hooker?”
“She’s an escort, a very high-end, very expensive one.”
“Why do you pay for women?”
Her brow is scrunched up, so confused by this turn of events. I smile and massage away the tension from between her eyes.
“I don’t trust easily, Charlie, and I don’t do relationships. Escorts have always been the easiest solution.”
“It fits your controlling personality, I guess,” she says, making me laugh. She’s not wrong. “Why couldn’t you fuck her?”
“Because all I could think about was the pain-in-the-ass thief who’d broken into my house and changed everything.”
She tries to hide her grin and fails miserably.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” I say, lying back down and tightening my arms around her. I hold her until she falls asleep, wondering how in the hell she could’ve turned my life upside down so damn quickly.
Chapter9
Charlotte
Iwake to an empty bed and a sore ass. When I roll over, my ankle falls off the pillow, the shock of pain reminding me that my ass isn’t the only thing that’s going to be sore today. I push aside the disappointment at not seeing Mikhail when I see the note he left beside me along with a pair of crutches.
Morning Charlie,
Come find me when you get up. I brought your stuff into my room.
Use the crutches and stay off your ankle, stubborn girl.
Is your ass sore? I hope it is.
Mikhail
I smile despite my embarrassment at everything that happened last night. Having him pull me onto his lap and spank my bare ass had been the most humiliating and arousing experience of my life. I think about how he’d held me afterwards, propping my ankle up and laying with me until I’d fallen asleep.
Sitting up, I grab the crutches and slowly haul myself out of bed. They’re already on the shortest setting, making me wonder if Jack brought them already like that or if Mikhail went through the extra trouble of getting them into the right position for me. I want to think he did. There’s something exhilarating about imagining the tough, Bratva boss repositioning my crutches for me. Pushing aside the images and the dopey grin on my face, I take a few ungraceful steps before getting the hang of it and heading toward the bathroom.
After getting cleaned up and wincing when I sit to pee because my ass is a little more sore than I originally thought, I make my way down the hall, assuming he’s in his office, or at least I hope so. I’m not so sure I’m up for crutches on stairs. I can easily see that ending very badly for me. When I reach his office, I peek my head around the corner and see him sitting behind his massive desk. God, the man is intimidating, even when he’s just sitting at his desk and answering emails. He exudes power, and the sight of his tattooed, muscled forearms as his fingers fly across the keyboard is sexy as fuck.