He’d taken me to his bedroom after dinner last night and fucked me until I’d shaken with an orgasm so violent, it forced tears in my eyes. He’d groaned out his release and I heard music again, and twenty minutes after he fell asleep, I’d been back at the piano.
During the drive, Aleksandar talked with Vasilije about things I had no interest in. Video games. Sports. Who had the best pair of tits among celebrities. When we arrived at the bar, the bouncer didn’t check any of us for ID. The oversized man at the door gave Vasilije a smile and gestured for us to bypass the line of people waiting.
I wasn’t sure what was more stunning. The fact that Vasilije took me out to meet his friends, or the effortless way he interacted with them. He was so easy to smile, or tell a joke. He listened to conversations without dominating them. We sat in the VIP section, and all the drinks were put on the Markovic tab. His friends, mostly guys but a few of their girlfriends, were his age, and had been his frat brothers in college.
They adored Vasilije.
The guy who had fucked me bent over his bed last night was gone. Seeing him now was like watching a stranger.
I barely spoke the entire night. I drank the drinks he ordered, sat beside him on the couch, and smiled vacantly like a good little whore until I was buzzed enough I didn’t care. It made it possible to ignore Aleksandar’s glares when Vasilije wasn’t looking.
I didn’t like the reminder how I was running out of time. It was possible I could stall Aleksandar a few more days once the new devices arrived, but eventually he’d realize I was double-crossing my own people, and he’d out me in a heartbeat.
“I’m drunk,” I announced to Vasilije, loud enough for his friends to hear. “I want to go home and fuck.”
A few of them snickered, and some looked at him with envious eyes. I wasn’t drunk. I’d said it because I wanted to be alone with him, and sex was the fastest way to connect.
Vasilije smirked. “Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”
John delivered us back to the house, and Aleksandar left without saying a word, and when I finished hanging up my coat, I discovered Vasilije in the kitchen, a box in his hands.
“This is for you.” He flashed his dangerous smile.
I swallowed hard, took the small, unwrapped box from him, and opened the flaps. Inside was black lingerie, the opposite of the virginal stuff he’d bought me before.
His eyes were electrified with desire. “Time to go upstairs and see how it fits.”
30
Vasilije sat on the bed and played on his phone while I carried the box into his bathroom and changed. It wasn’t just a black bra and panties, it was also thigh-high stockings and a garter belt. I was as careful as possible while sliding the silky stockings on, determined not to get a run in them. Would he punish me if I did? I put on the garter belt next, and hooked the straps to the lacy band near the top of each thigh.
The underwear and bra were similar to the white ones I had. The sheer mesh and lace obscured just enough, only teasing nudity. When I was finally dressed, I gazed at my reflection and watched a flush color my face.
It was amazing what a few scraps of lace could do. I was confident when I walked out into the bedroom, Vasilije was going to like what he saw. I grabbed a tube of the new bright red lipstick he’d bought me and smeared it on. The blue undertone of my pale skin made the color even more dramatic. I combed my fingers through my blonde hair, fluffing it out, and sauntered into the bedroom.
“Puši kurac,” he said.
His heavy gaze etched over the skimpy bits of fabric covering me, and I half expected drool to leak out of one side of his mouth. He stood and ran a hand over his crotch, massaging himself through his jeans. “Stay here.”
He left, only to return moments later with my black heels, which he thrust at me.
“What does that mean? The Serbian you said?” I asked as I stepped into the shoes, completing the look.
He smirked. “Suck my dick.”
I blinked.
Slowly, I knelt, folding one knee and then the other as I reached for the button of his jeans, but he swung his hips away.
“It’s an expression, not an order.” He scooped a hand under my arm and tugged me to my feet. “We’ll get to that, don’t worry, but I want to take pictures first.”
“Do you have any space left on your phone?” He’d taken a lot of pictures last night.
He rewarded me with a swat on my ass, and I was sure it left a perfect red impression of his hand. I bit my bottom lip. Wearing the lingerie turned me on, and his aggressive touch was the foreplay I desired.