5

I gasp. There’s no mistaking the hardness pressing against my thigh, just like there’s no mistaking how badly it’s affecting me. Through my thin satin blouse and lace bra, my nipples are visibly standing to attention.

I pray he hasn’t noticed the state of me, but it’s a short-lived hope. I can see him looking, licking his lips like a wolf cornering its prey.

“That’s right,” he rumbles, low and dark. “It appears you’ve managed to bring me something to my liking after all. And I never leave something I like on display.”

“I’m not for sale,” I say through gritted teeth.

“And I’m not offering to pay.” He brings his face even closer to mine. One miscalculation, one little twitch, and our lips would meet. “Are you going to leave what you want on display?”

He waits.

He waits.

I don’t say no.

So he takes that for exactly the answer it is: Claim me.

I kiss him.

That’s my third and final mistake. I surge forward and claim his lips with mine, dragging him the rest of the way down. I use my teeth; I’m not afraid. I want this. And wasn’t he the one going on and on about taking the things you want?

For once, I’m apparently right.

It’s a kiss unlike any I’ve ever had before. It’s not particularly nice, to be honest, or kind, or tender, or gentle.

Actually, it’s fucking savage.

He pries my lips apart and licks into my mouth, hot and hard and deep. If there was any doubt left on whether this man was truly made of ice, this kiss melts it all the way away.

Under the surface, fire smolders.

His hands are on me in seconds. I can feel his rough palms mapping out my body, the curves and dips of my breasts, of my hips. My buttons don’t stand a chance: they go flying everywhere.

“You’re lucky,” I blurt between kisses, “that I have a spare set of clothes.”

In response, the man chuckles in that dark way of his.

Then he yanks my head back and turns my neck into a battleground.

My hands itch to touch back. To give just as good as I’m getting. But, as if reading my mind, the man yanks on the tie, securing the knot all the way.

“Not so fast, kalina.” He loops the tie’s tail to the free coat hook above my head, pulling twice to ensure it won’t come loose. “I’m not done with my purchase yet.”

God help me, I moan.

I’m so used to being the one in control—the one who has to be in control. If I’m not on top of every little thing, I feel like my life will just spiral out of my grasp.

Like it used to be.

So, this? Being stripped of all say? I’m not gonna lie: it’s doing it for me.

I feel my thighs being pried apart. I don’t resist: I could never. I’m so wet I can’t breathe.

He notices it, too. “Blyat’,” he growls, pushing my skirt up and my panties aside. I have no idea what that word means, but right now, I can’t say I care. All I care about is his fingers, rough and wonderful, pushing up just right—

“Oh, God.”

He starts with one. It’s not enough. “More,” I whine, squirming against the restraints, trying to hook my leg around his half-naked hip, because if I don’t get more skin-on-skin contact rightthisfuckingsecond, I think I might die.

In the crook of my neck, the stranger groans. “Fucking hell, kalina. You want me that bad?”

“Yes,” I breathe. I’m too far gone for lies. It’s so hot to say it—to admit it out loud. No one’s ever asked me what I wanted before. I don’t know if that makes me pathetic or unlucky, but either way, I couldn’t care less.

Right now, I make my own luck.

Another curse, this time just shy of my ear. “Damn.” Two fingers are pumping in and out of me now. It’s still nowhere near enough. “Like me that much, huh?”

“Fuck no,” I moan. “I hate you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re the worst customer I’ve ever had.”

That makes him laugh. “Well, then, I’d better fix that.”

The second I hear his fly being unzipped, my eyes dart downwards. For one moment, I wonder if I’m seeing things. Because there’s no way, right?

There’s no way anyone can be this big.

“Having second thoughts?” he taunts.

I glare at him and jut out my chin proudly. “Never.”

With a single drive of my hips, I wrap my legs fully around him. I revel in the shocked look on his face—but it’s his own damn fault. If he didn’t want me to move, he should’ve bound my ankles, too.

“How about you?” I breathe, pulling him closer. “‘Cause, if you’re too chicken, door’s right there.”

His face splits into a rare grin. “You asked for this, Ms. Flowers.

Don’t go sending me a complaint in the morning.”

“That depends entirely on you.”

I can see the spark of a challenge in his eyes. The second he takes it, I know. “So be it.”

True to his word, he doesn’t give me another minute. Before I can take a single breath, he’s spreading my thighs wide, holding me up by the back of my knees. I cling to his waist with my lower body, suddenly terrified I might fall.

But he doesn’t let me fall.

He doesn’t let me do anything at all.

He grabs, and he pushes, and in one smooth thrust, he’s inside me.

I can feel him. I can feel every inch of him, driving into me with torturous slowness. He can’t afford anything less: one wrong move, and he might literally split me in half.