Page 14 of Flames

“Mikhael is yelling at some underlings over there,” she says as she continues to roll her backside against me teasingly. I’m certain she can feel how hard I am for her, how absolutely wild she’s driving me, even through our clothes. My length is slotted right between her cheeks, and each roll of her hips has friction building between us. “How long before he blows a gasket? I’m giving him under three minutes.”

“I give him over three,” I reply as I lean in and take a long, deep breath against her neck. Her hair smells like the floral shampoo she uses… not that I slipped into her apartment after she left this morning and gathered information about her or anything. Again, stalking is nefarious. This was just…research. You have to know your competition, right?

“And if I win, which I will, because this guy is unhinged?” she asks. I don’t need a scope to see, as she does, even in my human form my eyes are exceptional. Mikhael does seem close to blowing a gasket.

“If you win, I’ll get down on my knees for you, Princess,” I purr against the shell of her ear before taking one of her dangling piercings she has in her cartilage and placing it between my lips. She shivers and a wave of satisfaction runs through me.

Her pleasure is mine.

“And if you win?” she asks, her tone becoming more breathy and airy with each passing moment.

A pleased smirk pulls at my lips and I can feel my body temperature rise, but I’m not able to control the heat coursing beneath my skin as I say the next words out loud. “Then you’ll be on your knees for me.”

She pauses for a moment. I can hear the erratic beat of her thundering heart. My grip tightens slightly on her hip, a willingness to grab her and never let go overtaking me.

“Deal,” she finally relents.

We watch with rapt attention as the scene unfolds in the building across from us. Mikhael has some poor intern in his office. He’s clearly not pleased about some news he’s recently received and is taking it out on the intern. The vein in his temple is throbbing wildly. Too bad for my Little Spark that I know Mikhael Zmeev, quite well, in fact. And I know exactly what he looks like before he loses his cool. He’s not there yet.

“Two minutes in and he’s still just yelling and waving his arms,” I goad as I thrust my hips forward, reminding her just how hard I am for her.

The idea of her, on her knees, her pretty little lips wrapped around my cock, nearly has me spilling into my pants. I’ve already come in my hand twice for this girl though. The next time it’ll be on her or in her.

“There’s still time,” she responds but I can tell she’s getting nervous. “He’s almost there.”

He’s not. Mikhael Zmeev is a trained member of The Brotherhood, high ranking, right below the Pakhan himself. If he was about to strike, you wouldn’t suspect it. There’s a reason they call him The Wolf.

“Thirty seconds left,” I whisper in her ear before nipping the lobe.

Look, it’s not truly cheating. Sure, I could have disclosed that I know Mikhael and know his tells and that this bet is wildly unfair. But where’s the fun in that?

“Come on,” she whisper pleas, but I already know it’s too late. My cock twitches in my pants.

“Ten. Nine. Eight,” I count down for her as we watch Mikhael dismiss the intern with a sigh. He plops down at his desk and rubs his temple. “Seven. Six. Five.” Mikhael picks up the phone and begins calling someone. “Four. Three. Two. One.”

I pull the radio receiver out of my pocket and bring it up in front of us, letting her see. I flip the button and Mikhael’s deep voice filters from the other end.

“Yes, I would be eager to negotiate the final price,” he tells whoever he’s on the phone with, I assume the current owner of Ivan Tsarevich Riding the Grey Wolf, the priceless painting we’re after. “Tomorrow night at Lucy’s, yes. Seven?”

“You bugged his office?” Marisa asks, her jaw hanging open slightly.

“Work smarter, not harder, Moya Printsessa,” I respond quietly enough that we can still hear Mikhael.

“Very good. I will see you then,” Mikhael responds before hanging up the phone. I swiftly turn off the radio. We certainly don’t need to hear any more from him.

Time for my prize.

“I won, pretty girl. Hike up that skirt and get on your knees,” I tell her as I thrust my hips against her again, unable to control my feral excitement.

“Absolutely not,” she quips back. “I’m not scraping up my knees kneeling on this concrete.” She pushes her chin out, trying to look confident but I can smell the way she aches for me just as I ache for her. She cannot hide her desire from me.

Pulling away from her physically hurts. The beast beneath the surface singes my skin in protest.

“Mine. Mine. Mine,” he protests.

Sliding the soft leather from my shoulders, I place my jacket gently on the cement. With a cocked eyebrow, I motion towards the ground. Delight fills me as I watch her process my implication, her jaw falling open. Her irises light with indignation and I can see her preparing her rebuttal.

“Uh, uh, uh,” I tsk with my tongue. “A deal is a deal, Little Spark.” I tell her as my hands slip into my pocket, retrieving a matchstick and slipping it between my teeth.