“I want it all,” I taunt. My voice comes out hoarse. It doesn’t even feel like my own. I am outside my body watching this man ravish me. I am outside my mind. If he wants to fuck me to death, I will die with a smile on my face. “I want to make you feel good.”
“Oh, you do, my love,” he whispers in my ear. “You make me feel so bad and you make me feel all better. You’re the disease and the cure, and I will spend my whole life poisoning myself on you just to make myself well.”
He grips my hips with hands rough enough to leave marks, his thrusts hard enough to pick my toes up off the floor every time he slams into me. When he strokes my clit with his thumb, my head goes back into his neck and my body goes limp.
“Cum for me,” he commands. “Give me what I want. I want to feel that sweet pussy explode.”
I close my eyes and lose control, sinking into the sweet sensation of falling off a cliff with him, everything on my body contracting and relaxing at once. I have to remind myself to breathe because I feel like I’m about to blackout.
He holds me firm on his cock as he finishes inside the condom, and presses a sweet kiss to my shoulder.
“Wow,” is all I can fathom as he turns me around and hugs me to his chest. Nothing about what just happened makes me feel cheap or dirty, bought and paid for, or just living out my obligations. It feels right. It feels good. It feels… meant to be. “Just, wow.”
His lips graze the top of my head. I want to live in this moment forever, and right now, it almost feels like that’s possible. He goes to the trash can to get rid of the condom and I lean up against the desk, not quite ready to put my clothes on. I want him to wrap his arms around me and hold me. I want him to promise me this is what forever would feel like.
The sound of squealing tires roar up the driveway, and he peeks out the window blinds and looks over at me with a disappointed frown on his face. “I gotta take care of something,” he says, swallowing hard.
Moment ruined.
I guess I got so wrapped up in the now, I forgot about who he is and what he does. This city never sleeps and criminals don’t care if it’s after six PM.
“Oh, misui, no,” he says, handing me my clothes when he notices the sadness on my face. “It’ll be quick, I promise. I’m not shoving you away. My work schedule is just…” He cocks his head and cracks his knuckles. “It’s not really a schedule at all. I’m kind of on call 24/7.”
“Like a doctor,” I say with a petty laugh.
He rolls his eyes at me and slaps my ass. “Go take a bubble bath and put on some comfy clothes. We’ll have dinner together later. I’m not done with you yet.”
Unfortunately neither am I.
Being here with him only reminds me that no matter how far away I move, how many men I marry, how hard I try to run… I’ll never be done with Serafin Mazur.
12
Mia:
“What the heck are these?” I’ve never seen a bouquet of roses so garish in my whole life. The vase alone crowds my desk, and it’s overflowing with roses of every color. It smells heavenly, but everyone in the office is staring at me like they’re in on some inside joke and I’m the butt of it. “Did a client send these for Jakub?”
“I think your boyyyyyyfriend sent them for you, Mia,” Dyta, the secretary says. Even after only being here two days, I can tell she’s the kind of woman who lives for juicy gossip. She’d probably have a field day if she knew half my story. I can’t help but like her, though. She always has the right thing to say, and even though we all wear the same ‘uniform’ here, black dresses with matching high heels, her personal style stands out with her streak of pink in her hair and big chunky silver jewelry dotted with gemstones of every color. “What did he do? Run over your dog or something?”
“He didn’t do anything,” I say. Technically, he didn’t come home last night, at least not before I was fast asleep. Chef Tymon caught me in the kitchen foraging for snacks at around nine, and nobody else in the house had heard from him at that point. You’d think I’d be a little more perturbed considering it was the first time we hooked up, but honestly, I didn’t expect anything else from him, and I have enough stuff going on in my brain right now, I don’t need to read into whatever happened between us. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”
Maybe at the end of the day, we just needed to get it out of our system, even though the delicious pain between my thighs is making it hard to forget.
“So what are you then?” she taunts. “His mistress.”
I shrug and give her a wink. “Sure.” She bursts into laughter, and the office door swings open. Fillip, the biggest rockstar in all of Poland, the lead singer of Onyks, comes walking in, his cowboy boots clanking off the marble floor. He’s got on a fur coat that hangs to the ground and a pair of rhinestone studded sunglasses. I met him the other night at the casino, when he looked like he was going to drag Janka up to a hotel room and devour her alive, and I got a bad feeling about him that day. I guess he’s used to being doted on, and I guess he probably deserves it for how talented and successful he is, but I can’t help but shake the feeling he’s not exactly a nice guy.
“Well, we meet again,” he says, lowering
