“What is that?”
“I have an audition this week. A part in a play.”
“Yes, this is right. My kotik is an actress.” He glides into the room, fingers hooked in his belt loops. “I did some digging before the fight. But I should have known after you lied so convincingly about your broken down car.”
“Was I convincing? You didn’t seem to believe me.”
“You were good. It was just hard to believe I could be so lucky.”
“Oh,” I breathe, my skin prickling with awareness when he sits down beside me on the bed. “Do you want to run some lines with me? It’s only fair since you turned me into an MMA champion this morning.”
“Da,” he says, crowding closer. “I would like this.”
I press my lips together. “Okay. So I’m auditioning for the role of a teenage daughter. She’s kind of rebellious. In this scene, she’s arguing with her father about curfew.”
He arches a dark brow. “What is curfew?”
“Your deadline to return home at night. Say, after a party or a date.”
A grunt and a head bob tells me he understands.
I scoot closer until the outsides of our thighs are pressing together and I hold the folded script so we can both see the words. “I’ll start here. And these lines are yours.” I shift a little, getting into character, then I begin at the top. “Dad, what are you so worried about? It’s just a party with friends.”
Maxim leans in. “Your friends include boys.”
“And?”
“And I know how they think.”
I roll my eyes. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Fine. I will.” Maxim pauses, swallows loud enough for me to hear. “They’re just thinking of ways to get up your tight-ass skirt.”
“Dad!”
“It’s true. All they want in life is you flat on your back, little girl.” For some reason those two words send a rush of wetness to my sex. Maxim’s voice grows rougher. “I was young once. Nothing about boys has changed.”
“Fine…” My fingers tighter around the script. “Let’s say I do end up flat on my back. What business is it of yours, Daddy?”
Maxim swallows a groan and rubs the heel of his hand against the bulge in his pants. “Everything is Daddy’s business when it comes to you.”
I cross my legs and toss my hair. “Not everything.”
“Oh yes, little girl.” Maxim reaches over and uncrosses my legs. “Everything.”
Heat spreads like a wildfire in my belly, my loins. “That’s not in the script.”
Maxim doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he stands and kneels in front of me. Thanks to the extra-high platform bed, this puts his mouth on level with the hem of my dress. “I know what will make these young boys less appealing. If your first tongue is an experienced one.” He flips up my dress and slides my knees apart. “Would you like that? Would you like to feel what a man can do with your little girl pussy?”
My fingers clutch the bedclothes, the muscles of my sex contracting. This role is like coming home, handing over control, knowing I’ll be cared for. “I-I don’t know, Daddy,” I whine, writhing on the soft comforter.
“These legs are spread pretty wide for someone who doesn’t know.” He thumbs my clit, nips the inside of my thigh with his teeth. “We can have our own parties right here, little girl. With your bedroom door locked tight. You don’t have to leave home to end up flat on your back.”
I’m already moaning the first time he licks me. He doesn’t bother to move aside the G-string. No, he uses it to his advantage. Taking the ultra-thin strap between his lips and dragging it side to side over my clit, pulling the string back and letting it snap down onto my sex. Over and over until my back is arched, my lower body twisting to escape to exquisite agony. “Oh. Oh. Oh! Please don’t stop.”
“Shhh,” he breathes, pressing a thick finger into my opening, rotating it slowly, teasing that coarse spot only he knows about or can find. “So very fucking tight, aren’t you?” He shakes his head, curses. “Can’t blame these boys for trying. But this is all Daddy’s.”
Lust pierces my belly like an arrow and I spin into a climax.
My fingers tear at the comforter, eyes almost too blind to make out the ceiling. Maxim laps at me feverishly, his thumb moving in quick strokes on top of my clit. His shoulders are a beautiful rippling testament to masculinity, his dark head buried between my thighs and all I can do is gasp for air, sobbing brokenly as my intimate muscles contract and release, dampness streaking down my thighs, between the cheeks of my backside.
I’m struggling for oxygen, dew coating my forehead, satisfied beyond belief.
Until Maxim stands to his full height at the bottom of the bed and licks me off his lips crudely, his eyes black with hunger, and another wave of longing travels through me, sparking my nerve endings, curling my toes. “You open legs for Daddy, da?” Maxim unzips his jeans with a deft hand, reaches in and grips himself. “Now this becomes your business.”
He yanks me closer until my hips are almost falling off the edge of the bed and he pins me there with my legs wide open, sliding his thick shaft between my folds, over my still-buzzing clit and I just have to lay there and take it, panting as he teases me, exploits my arousal, drives it back to a fever pitch, mewling sounds breaking past my lips. I feel small and coveted, like a favorite plaything, my much larger master amusing himself with me. And when he spears into my opening, filling me with a throaty moan, I become essential to him.
The veins in his neck and shoulders stand out, the muscles of his biceps and abdomen straining. Instinctively, I know he is trying not to orgasm too soon and that makes me feel powerful even though I’m the one being dominated.
Maxim loops his arms beneath my legs and falls forward, bringing my knees up to my shoulders, positioning his shaft even deeper inside of me. A shudder wracks him and he starts to thrust slowly, as if savoring every entry and exit, his breath sawing in and out of his throat.
His mouth moves over mine in a long, wet kiss, his lips trailing down to suck the sensitive skin of my throat, his tongue swirling in the hollow. “Angels made you, kotik. But I swear your pussy was designed by the devil.” His hips start to move faster, lust making his eyes feverish, bright. “Once you have it, you will spend rest of life craving more. Hard and aching. I already want it again.”
“It’s yours,” I whisper, running my palms up and down his flexing back. “Yours as many times as you need.”
With a groan, he falls forward and fucks me in earnest, frenzied like last night.
His snarls and grunts make beautiful masculine music against my ear, his hips slapping down against mine, his tight ball sack pressing to my bottom with every downward stroke. That fighter’s body of his is a heavy wall of muscle that gives no quarter, anchoring me to the mattress while he takes his pleasure, one of his hands coming up to wrap around my throat.
“Wet little kitten,” he grits out. “You squeeze me too tight. You make me fucking crazy.”
My intimate muscles begin to tighten again, bearing down so I can feel every ridge of his sex traveling up and back inside me. “But I just want to please you.”