Filthy Rich

So, I got it. I did. I wasn’t mad. I was, if anything, a little sad for her.

It made me want more for her, even if I wasn’t sure I could give her what she needed.

Physically, sure, but she wanted more than that. I could see it. She was crying out for care and love, affection. I could give her the latter, could even give her the first, but love?

I doubted it.

Needs I was about to fulfill.

“Of course it felt good,” I whispered, dropping over her. “But this will feel even better,” I vowed, promising myself that I’d erase the memory of this guard from her mind.

She moaned as I fluttered my tongue along her clit, then as I flickered the tip back and forth, she cried out, “Oh God!” and began rocking from side to side, twisting almost under my hold as I forced her toward an orgasm.

Finger fucking her at the same time, I moved fast, overwhelmed her senses, and forced that orgasm out of her, wringing her dry within a minute.

When she screamed, the sound washed over me.

Fuck, I loved it when women screamed, and that my woman did that?

There was no better way to put a smile on my goddamn face.

Her hand moved down, shoving me harder against her, and I let her, let her ride my face, let her fly into her urges, and I gave her what she needed to fly freer.

Only when she came down did her hand move, and she let me pull back. My mouth was wet, my chin coated with her juices. I could fuck her now, fuck her without pain, but instead, I let my fingers carry on thrusting into her, scissoring her as I moved.

“What was the guard’s name?”

She blinked, then slurred out, “Why?”

“I want to know.”

My inexorable answer had her tensing. “You’ll hurt him.”

I rubbed the sensitive fore-wall of her pussy, making her cry out. “I won’t.”

“Liar,” she rasped.

“No. I promise, I won’t.”

That had her turning still. “You promise?”

I knew how she felt about promises, and I had no issue with giving this one.

“I do.”

She licked her lips. “Maxim.”

I stored that away, another vow surging in my head to make her forget that fucker’s name, and asked, “Do you still have a crush on him?”

“No.” Though the answer came fast enough for it to be a lie, I actually believed her.

“Why not?”

She huffed. “Do you have to ask me this stuff while your hand is inside me?”

My lips twitched. “I want to know.”

“Sometimes it isn’t good to get what you ask for. Not every time.”

“You’ll learn to demand what you want,” I rasped, the idea turning me on.

I wanted her fucking starving for me. I wanted her on me more than white on rice.

The idea of her ravenous, constantly cock hungry for me was a tantalizing fantasy I needed to live out.

Her eyes widened at my words, and she whispered, “I’ve been taught the opposite.”

“Then you’re going to unlearn it.” I thrust into her cunt once more. “Now, tell me what I want to know.”

“I saw him fucking one of the whores my father brought in for his men’s use.”

Disgust filtered through me. “You saw that?”

She shrugged. “His office is in our home. There’s a wing for his soldiers.”

I hadn’t known that.

Everyone thought the Bratva worked out of a compound they owned in Brighton Beach, not at their Pakhan’s home.

Something else to file away.

Seeing that she wasn’t wearing any panties fucked me up even more as I saw her parted pussy lips topped with a landing strip of hair.

I reached down, rubbed my thumb over her snatch, that tiny line of hair, and rumbled, “Who did this for you?”

She swallowed, her focus on my hand, and whispered, “Someone at a salon.”

“I’ll do this for you from now on.”

Inessa laughed, and her eyes sparkled when she looked at me.

Then, when she realized I wasn’t joking, her mouth rounded into a perfect O that made my dick weep pre-cum.

“You’re not serious?” she questioned.

“I’m deadly serious. No one sees this pussy but me.”

Her mouth worked again. “That’s not practical.”

I blinked. “Why isn’t it?”

“If I get pregnant, someone will have to see it then.”

Despite myself, despite the ache in my body for her, I had to laugh. “I’ll rethink the situation if I have to.”