Chapter2: The Study session that was not.

The door of the office of Professor Volkov flew wide in a gentle click, and a scent of costly sandalwood and leather came out of it. Nalia wavered, her hand still on the knob, when Adrian raised his head off his desk. The lamplight reflected on his watch, a small exhibition of riches which should have given her no more surprise.

His voice was silky-smooth, as Nalia said. "Come in. I hope the coffee is acceptable.

She entered the room, having one of those silent influences about it, the polished wood, shelves of books reaching to the ceiling, full of choice works on economics, the view of the city rising in the distance behind the window. It felt... too perfect. Too controlled. Such as a cage in its luxury wrapping.

I have brought my notes, she said, and she put her bag on the opposite chair to his desk. "On shadow banking. That described that you required a more in-depth analysis.

Gestures indicated to her to take a seat. But when she relaxed, he bent forward, with his elbows on the desk, and the breath eloped out of Nalia. The motion made the shirt of his garment fall, displaying the line of his jaw, the slight stubble, which gave him the appearance of a man who is sharp and polished.

Very good work, your analysis, I said, and he was raking his eyes over her. But I guess you know more than scholars. Question me, is there such a thing as illegitimate liquidity, Nalia, of which you are the general opinion? He underlined the words, and a smile appeared on his lips. Not only the theory, but the practice.

Her heart hammered. Illicit liquidity. The money that gets transferred via legitimate business is referred to by organised crime as a term. It was a given, a hint of his cautioning her that he was prodding her compared to his own actions.

I have read about it, she said, attempting as best she could to maintain the same note. Context: in the context of money laundering. But I prefer legal channels."

Legal channels, he said, again sitting in his chair. It was a slow and prudent movement, like a panther. "Such a noble pursuit. But say, Nalia, then what then? When are the legal ways gambled with? Who decides who has the privilege of playing by the rules?

His eyes were on her, and in a second, she was aware of something behind his eyes, of something icy, something dangerous. Then it had disappeared, and in its place was the lovely professor’s surface.

Forgive me," he said, standing up. "I get carried away. Coffee? Or better still, something greater? You look like you could use it."

He filled two tumblers of whiskey and pushed one of them over the desk. This purple fluid was shining in the lamp. Nalia blinkingly took a sip. The heat ran down her throat, a pleasant diversion to the tightness turning in her gut.

You evading the question, are you? she said, and put down the glass. "About illicit liquidity. Why bring it up? Are you implying... something?

Adrian laughed, it was a deep, rich laugh which caused a chilling shiver through her. He turned around the desk and moved up to stand beside her. It was very close, intimate, invasive, but she could not find the heart to withdraw.

"Suggesting?" said he, which was a kind of whisper. "No, Nalia. I'm stating a fact. The world is under grey tints. You, your black and white morality, you are a rare bird. A gorgeous, infertile novelty.

                                                                                  

He extended his hand, with his fingers touching her cheek. It was a light touch, but a spur-like tingling. The contact by which he had touched Nalia was tingling along his skin, and she struggled to restrain the tendency to lean.

"What do you mean?" she said, little more than whispering.

His thumb followed the contour of her jawline and went to the tip of her chin. You believe you can solve all things, do you? Clear your father’s name, save your sister... show that you are not a chess figure. He bent his head up until she was compelled to look up at him. But what is that? There is no other way to win than to play the game? To be the queen, and not the knight.

His words represented an obstacle, a flaunting, and the offer of something. Nalia experienced the loss of her determination. This was a man with his quickness of mind and with quickness of edge unwinding her bit by bit. But she would have preferred to hate him, would have preferred to flee, but her body was uncooperative, and answered his contact with an intimacy that she could not resist.

"Is that what you do?" she asked, her voice shaky. "Play the game?"

Adrian smiled, a wolf's smile. "I am the game, Nalia. And you're playing with fire."

He leaned forward before it fell, his lips touching her ear. Tell me, he said to her, with his breath hot on her flesh. "Do you want to play?"

The question was in suspense, desire and danger clogged it. Her heart crashed, yes, as Nalia screamed no. She was caught in the middle of what was right and what was wrong. The girl and the woman must be the same person, yet the one who struggled to be just and the one who needed to be touched by this man.

"I..." but she began, and was silenced with the end of his finger.

There is no necessity to answer, he said in a low and gravelly voice. "Your body already has."

He had drawn himself nearer, and he was rubbing his chest against her. His body was heating her blouse, and her nipples stiffened. He bit at her ear, a sharp possessive bite which caused her to gasp.

Like a prayer, half protest, half plea, said Adrian.

He withdrew with his dark-eyed hunger. Address me by the name Adrian, he said in a stern voice. "Or call me master. One way or another, you will soon find out that there is no way out.

On that, he took possession of her mouth in one of those kisses that are tender and cruel at the same time, in short, conquests. His tongue tore holes in her lips and insisted on being inside, and she opened her lips to permit him to enter. She tasted whiskey and something more primal and darker. His hands touched her body, grabbing her breasts, touching her through the blouse, then pinching her breasts until she moaned, and he sucked them.

His shirt was fisted by Nalia, and this jerked him closer. This was madness, this was him. But she couldn't stop. The sensation of his body against her, how he controlled the kiss, the crude strength he exhibited, it all was intoxicating.

As he last dragged himself off at length, they both were breathing hard. His eyes were maniacal; his pupils were expanded. "You, see?" he said, his voice rough. "Resistance is futile. You're mine now, Nalia. Whether you like it or not."

She looked at him, her head a snarl of the warring feelings. Fear, lust, rage, it is a kind of potato soup. "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice small.

It means that you will soon see what it is really like to be possessed by a man like me, he said, reaching over and touching her crotch.

Against his trousers, his erection, hard and undisputable. Nalia's breath hitched. That she was doing this struck her; this was not right. A huge, dangerous mistake. But looking in his eyes, she knew it was something else she beheld to need. Raw, unfiltered need and, at one time, she forgot her father, and about Marco, and about everything but the manner in which he touched her.

Adrian, she said, her fingers wreathing his hardness between the fabrics.

He snarled and took her by the wrist and frog-grasped it more firmly against himself. "That's right, baby. Touch me. Show me how much you want this."

She pressed him, and he moaned and pushed into her palm. And the sound was a heat wave to her. She desired greater, desired to have him inside of her, desired to lose herself in this insanity.

She unzipped his trousers without intending to think, and unbuckled his belt. His cock jerked out, fat and veined, and pre-cummings already. She was peeing it with her hand and caressing him.

F-fuck," he hissed as he canonicaled her. "You're a natural, aren't you?"

Nalia did not pay attention; she concentrated on his presence in her hand. The feel, the hot, the manner he throbbed in her fingers. It was addictive. She stretched forward and licked the tip of his cock, tasting the salt pre-cum.

Ah, Christ, - groaned Adrian, who wound his fingers in her hair. "That's it. Suck it, Nalia. Show me how good you are."

She took him in her mouth, as she obeyed. His bulk at first shocked her, but she came easily to him, and he penetrated deeper. He moaned, pawing tenderly at her mouth, leading her.

“And that is ideal, that is it”, he said, his voice making an effort. "Just like that. You are a nice little slut, aren't you, to me?

Her repulsion should have been caused by the words, but on the contrary, they gave her a sudden excitement. She moved more rapidly, shaking her head with help, sinking in her cheeks. Adrian clutched her hair tighter, and she was aware that he was nearby.

Stop, he said abruptly, getting her off him. "I want to come inside you."

He put her on the desk with her legs open. Thaler’s skirt went up, revealing her lace panties. He tore them off, threw them away, and buried his face in her pussy, licking and sucking it.

Oh god, cried out Nalia, and arched her back. His tongue was a magic one, rounding her clit, dropping into her, causing her to wriggle. "Adrian, please..."

His eyes gazed up at her, and flushed with her liquids. "Please what, baby? Please fuck you? Please make you cum?"

"Yes," she panted. "Yes, please."

He was on his feet, rolling his cock with her opening. He suddenly threw into her, and crammed her. Nalia screeched, and the closeness was painful yet nice. His movements began gradually and with deliberate heavy rhythm, pounding her G-spot with each thrust.

"Fuck, you're tight," he growled. "So, fucking tight."

He increased the speed and beat into her, and his balls were battering her ass. Nalia scratched his shoulders and moaned so much. The desk trembled under them, and she must have known that any passing person could hear, but she did not care. The sensation of being filled by him, of being filled by him, the manner in which he made her feel alive, was the only thing she cared about.

Send me, Nalia, cum, cum, cum please, he said, in a tight voice. "Cum on my cock."

That was all it took. The explosion of her orgasm had burst tremulously upon her like a tidal wave. And she screamed his name, and her walls were gripping him. Adrian came a few seconds later and was grunting as he had gone deep into her, filling her with his seed.

They remained that way a moment, gasping, wet-skinned bodies against each other. Then Adrian withdrew, assisting her to descend from the desk. He gave her a tissue to rub between her legs.

Clean up better, he said with a smirk on his face. Would not wish anybody to observe the marks I left in you.

Nalia stared at herself and saw the dishevelled clothes, the blush over the cheeks, the tangles in the hair. She was unabolished, naked, and also empowered, queerly. This man, all that she did not need, had just caused her the greatest gratification in her life.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice somewhat trembling.

Adrian pulled up his pants, tightening his suit jacket. "Because I wanted you. Because you're mine now. And through being thus, as long in deep desire.

He moved towards his desk and picked up a folder. Now, concerning that bad liquidity report. And I believe it will be all one perceived enlightenment with you.

Nalia looked in his direction, and her thoughts were speeding in a circular motion. What had she just done? What was it she had gotten herself into? But when she gazed at him, she was quite sure that this was but the beginning. The prohibited attraction had now become much more dangerous and much more addictive. Now, whether she was prepared for the next step, she knew not.

She wondered when leaving his office whether or not resistance could be futile when the flavour of him was still on her lips. Perhaps, perhaps she did not want it to be.