Mikhail

33 (R)

"Play with yourself."

Enveloped in agonising flames, I circled the pad of my finger over my pulsating clit, unable to draw in a full breath.

Maria's dress was bunched around my waist and the top of it tugged below my heaving breasts, heavy with need.

I sighed out a moan, adding pressure to my touch when Mikhail's large hand stroked the outline of his hardened cock over his suit pants, darkened eyes set on my seeping cunt.

"Don't hide your pretty cunt, kukolka," he demanded gruffly, tone a guttural rumble. Unbearable and boiling heat coiled in the pit of my stomach, and I writhed on the bed for his touch.

Instead, stood beside me, he reached to part my thighs and expose me to his ravenous gaze.

"Do you think of me?" he wondered in a low baritone, impossibly darkened eyes piercing into every crevice of my being, "sweet girl, tell me you think of me when you touch yourself."

A jolt of bliss travelled down my spine and I shifted on the soft sheets uncomfortably, the movement of my fingers accelerating.

I would easily reach an orgasm with just the sight of him and the sound of his voice, but desperately pleaded for more to no avail.

"Always," I breathed shakily, and watched his hold on the painfully hard cock roughen. He groaned lowly, before his intoxicating focus shifted to my bare chest.

"Natalia," he pinched my erect nipple between his fingers and I whined, a shot of pain mixing to intensify each delicious sensation, "I know what you've done."

"What?" I stuttered out, my greedy touch unwilling to halt even as his words sobered my lustful mind.

A terrifyingly attractive and devilish grin tugged up the sides of my lips, and my nipple was flicked. I sucked in a breath, heart racing and dazed gaze focusing on his.

"Your friend isn't very bright," he taunted lowly, and a cold wave of humiliation washed past the heat surrounding me.

I'm going to kill Anastasia.

"What were you going to do, hm?" his hand replaced mine between my thighs, which attempted to squeeze shut to avoid his touch. It was no use. "Kill every woman from my past?"

I burned with embarrassment and fury. Mortified, I gaped at the amusement and pleasure he found in my shock.

I scrambled away from his touch to the top of the bed, but only managed to make space for his impressive frame to weight down the mattress by my feet. My knees hugged to my chest, frozen as he began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"I asked for a general overview of you before I found out who you are, not for a recap of your romantic endeavours," I gritted out feebly, tone pathetically breathless, "it has to be illegal to impersonate as someone to get information..."

It was the least illegal and immoral of crimes in our world, and I made note to commit the worst ones on Anastasia the moment I'd see her again.

She was a whiz with computers and algorithms, but all too naive with people, as I had witnessed during her infatuation with Vinnie. Now, my only contact to her being through Mikhail's phone, he had all too easily asked for the information she had gathered on him, on the basis of her slip-up during our call.

"Funny, kukolka," he grinned smugly, and my expression dropped along with my racing heart.

All too calmly his shirt dropped to the floor beside us, the giant man's bulging muscles beautifully extenuated in the shadows of the bedroom. My mouth dried.