Page 81 of Wicked Heir

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The assistant hovered. “Which ones should I get in her size?”

“All of them,” I snapped and sat down to check my phone.

Molly eyed me curiously before drifting after the assistant to get dressed.

I had five emails needing desperate attention and a senator hopeful who wanted a favor. Business was booming for the bratva, and I’d never been more distracted. Molly and Nikolai were distraction enough, without considering the ridiculous marriage my father was intent on pushing.

I was worn out by the constant pressure from Viktor, and more than anything, I wanted to be in my apartment with Mallory. I wasn’t the sort of don who got off on power or prestige. I didn’t enjoy the lifestyle, and the only people I could stand to be around in the entire bratva were Max, Ivan, and Pyotr.

One day—and it was coming soon—things would have to change.

I put my phone away and checked my watch. What the fuck was Molly doing in there? I got up and headed for the changing room, scattering the curious sales assistants as I pulled back the curtain and stepped inside.

Molly jerked around, giving me a perfect view of her delicious, delicate body in the underwear I’d chosen; white lace with tiny pink flowers embroidered along it. At the time, choosing something I’d known teenage Mallory would hate had felt mocking. Back then, she was more of a ripped fishnets and black nail polish sort of girl. Now, it seemed fitting. Despite her bravado and tough-girl veneer, Mallory had been a virgin at the age of twenty-five, something practically unheard of.

Despite her snarls and put-downs, she had walked willingly into my prison because she loved me and wanted to save me. She didn’t understand yet that there was nothing left to save. The virginal, almost bridal-looking underwear suited this pure-hearted, brave woman who had selflessly given herself to the beast to spare others.

I pulled the curtain shut behind me. “What’s taking so long?” I muttered, lust tightening my groin.

Her eyes widened, and the pulse in her throat fluttered.“I was folding the too-big ones.”

I spun her, bracing her hands on the mirror so she was looking at herself, with me tucked behind her.

“Is that right?” I pulled a long spill of her hair aside to bare her neck. My lips immediately fastened on the long, pale column of her throat. “Do you have any idea what seeing you in this getup makes me want to do to you?”

Molly shook her head.

“It makes me want to dirty you up – to defile the perfect little princess,” I whispered in her ear.

I slid my hands around her hips. My scarred, huge, inked hands looked wrong against her. Too big, too rough, too brutal. I enjoyed the sight.The ink on my forearms looked darker against her creamy skin. Molly was well-acquainted with my sleeves, but she’d only seen the rest of my body in the dark. In bratva, the story of your life was written on your skin, and my flesh told not only my history but also my position in the bratva.

I moved my hands over her stomach and up toward her bra. The lace was so thin I could see the pink of her nipples. I pinched them hard, then soothed them in soft tugs. She arched her back against me and pressed her ass against my crotch.

“I want to bruise, bend, and mark you with my teeth and nails. I want to stripe your skin with my cum and rub it in like moisturizer, so you smell like me.”

She shuddered as I let one hand wander down to delve into her panties while the other rose to her neck. I circled the slender stalk and squeezed lightly.

Molly moaned as my fingers sank through her wet folds. “The assistants will hear us.”

“Let them. They wouldn’t dare interfere. Do you have any idea how wet you are? You’re walking around, desperate to be fucked at any second,” I stated, dark jealousy spreading through my veins.

“Only when you’re with me,” she breathed.

Her soft confession stilled my dead heart in my chest.I smirked against her skin. “Good girl. For that, you can come before we leave here,” I told her roughly. “But you only have until the assistant knocks, so you’d best be quick.”

I slowly began to circle her clit, and she rubbed against me like a cat. She seemed to be taking my word for it because her hands went to her tits, perfectly showcased in the half-cup bra, and caressed them as I fingered her. She humped her hips, chasing my touch, wanting to go faster than I allowed. I fought a grin as I heard footsteps approaching on the tiles outside the dressing room. Molly must have heard it, too, because she made a frantic, tortured sound before grabbing my wrist. She urged me faster, rubbing herself off until she pulsed around my hand. I clamped a hand over her lips, and her eyes flew to mine.

“No one hears you coming except me. Now keep your goddamn eyes open and watch yourself come on my hand.”

She shuddered in my arms, losing all control as a knock sounded on the door.

“Is everything okay in there? Do you need anything else?” the assistant’s voice called.

I watched Molly come down slowly from her high. “No,” I said roughly, taking a moment to find my voice. “I have everything I need right here.”

* * *

In the diner,I watched as Molly stretched her arms over her head.


Tags: Mila Kane Erotic