He slides his hand up my shirt to fondle my breast as he starts up with a slow rhythm in and out.
The spanking got me excited, and I already need more. “Faster, please,” I plead.
“You need more of this cock, beautiful girl? I will give it all to you.” He adjusts to put his hands on my waist, so he can plow in harder. It’s a good angle. I can take him deep, despite his length, and I love the way he fills me. His balls slap against my clit, giving me extra stimulation.
I warble my approval in eager tones.
“You like that, sweetheart?” He changes his grip to hold my nape. I freeze for a moment, a slice of panic running through me. The clanging of metal bashes in my head.
Flynn is instantly on me, soothing me. “No, no, no, baby. It’s just me. It’s you and me. You’re so safe here.” He folds his torso down over mine to wrap his arms around me and kiss my neck, my jaw, between my shoulder blades. He strokes my hair, murmuring comforting words.
As quickly as it came, the panic fades. “I’m okay,” I say. “Spasibo. It’s okay.”
Instead of avoiding the position that triggered me, Flynn returns to it. “It’s me, babe.” He holds my nape, but his thumb and fingers massage my muscles there. “May I hold you here?”
My heart pounds, but I say, “Yes.”
“You’re always in charge, sweetheart. You know that, right?” He presses in and out of me again. “You say stop, I stop. You say more, I give you more. Whatever you need. We’re in this together. I’m here for you.”
Tears well up in my eyes–not out of tragedy but because it feels so good. Because everything he says is so right. “I’m here for you, too,” I tell him. “Thank you…thank you, Flynn.”
He’s picked up speed again, his fingers tightening around my nape to hold me still as he pounds in harder.
I’m not scared at all. I want it. All of it. I want Flynn to find his pleasure with me–and all I register now is pleasure.
“I love it,” I tell him. “I love it with you. I love it so much.”
“Christ, Nadia.” His fingers tighten more, and his moves grow erratic. “You’re so fucking perfect.” His breath rasps in and out roughly.
“I’m ready,” I tell him. “You can come. I want to come with you.”
“Oh God,” he mutters. He puts a snap into his hips that practically lifts my knees off the couch with each shove and my breath comes out in shrieks over and over again until he roars and slams in. “I’m coming!”
As if I didn’t know.
My body’s already in perfect harmony with his. My inner walls tighten and spasm around his cock, milking it, squeezing it. It’s got to be the best orgasm I’ve ever had. By far.
“Oh my God,” he repeats, his hands coasting up and down my back. “You’re so perfect, Nadia.” Even though he’s the one who did all the work, who made it work for me, he sounds grateful. Like I just gave him some huge gift.
I love you. I hear the Russian words in my head again but somehow don’t speak them this time.
As he eases out and goes to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, I realize it’s crazy that I’ve fallen in love so quickly, but I can’t deny it. I’m floating on a moonbeam with this guy. Everything about him feels perfect.
Everything except for our arrangement.
And his inability to commit to a relationship.
Flynn
When we get to the Kremlin for rehearsal, I’m feeling possessive and protective and completely unwilling to let Nadia go.
Even though I know I seem clingy and weird, I ask if she wants to come and watch.
“I would like that,” she says, even though she hasn’t been home in almost twenty-four hours and is still in yesterday’s clothes.
She shrinks a little when she first enters the room. Ty and Lake are already there getting set up.
“Hey, Nadia,” Ty says.
“Oh hey.” Lake lifts his chin at her. I’m grateful for once that my friends are as chill as I am. They don’t act surprised that I brought her to rehearsal or even question it.
The fact that all three of us are pretty laid back and unambitious is one of the reasons our band sort of became Story’s when we asked her to join.
She’s big sister to all of us. Well, Lake used to wish she was more to him, but now that she’s with Oleg, his little crush is over.
I arrange a chair for her to sit on and drop a kiss on the top of her head.
“Let me see your phone.”
I hand it over without asking why.
“Is it okay if I go live on Tiktok again? I think your fans would love to see what a rehearsal looks like.”
Story and Oleg walk in. “God, no, we’re a mess in rehearsal,” my sister says. Her hulking fiance takes a seat in the corner opposite the one Nadia took and folds his arms across his chest, looking like her bodyguard, even though she’s in the safest building in Chicago, considering the security they have on this place.
Nadia flushes, but defends her idea. “You can be a mess on Tiktok. That’s what it’s all about. The real you. That’s what people want.”
“I’m down,” I say. Honestly, if Nadia said she thought we should skydive off the top of the building, I would say yes just to make her happy. Whatever she wants.
Fortunately, my sister isn’t shy. She makes a great lead singer because she will prance around stage in her fishnets, combat boots, and short shorts and be totally comfortable with whatever reaction she gets. Honestly, having Oleg as a grounding force is the best thing that could’ve happened to her because she could be as flighty as me, and I sometimes worried about someone screwing with her.