He may have the control… but I’m not totally without power.
Of course, he tests that theory of mine a second later when he turns on the vibrator again. I twitch in place and look up at him helplessly.
“Go on,” he croons. “Finish your dessert.”
So I do. Every mouthful of thick, gooey mousse tastes so much more exotic somehow. It’s like the vibrator between my thighs is enhancing every sound, smell, and taste. By the time I’m finished with my little mason jar, I’m worried that I’ve soaked through the seat.
“You wear the vibrator well.”
I bite down on my bottom lip. “U-Uri,” I gasp. “I think I… I’m gonna—”
His hand slides over my thigh and he digs his fingers into my skin as he snarls, “You will not come until I say you can.”
That should piss me off.
It only makes me wetter.
Is this what I’ve been missing in my sex life all this time? I’ve only ever slept with mild-mannered men who had sex like they did everything in life—traditionally and meekly.
But what I really needed was a man who would take charge. A man who would boss me around, push me around, tease me, take me, fuck me. A man who made me feel like the stakes were high and the risk was worth it.
“Okay,” I gasp, jerking in place and causing quite a few heads to swivel in our direction. Fuck you people; I don’t care anymore. “Okay, I won’t…”
“Such a good girl.”
My eyelashes flutter at him. “A-are you going to reward me… mmm…？”
I grip the edges of the table as the vibrator starts working in a new pattern. Any faster and I’m gonna be coming all over the place whether Uri likes it or not.
“Of course, baby.” Then the vibrator stops cold and Uri gives me a satisfied smile as disappointment floods my face. “But not just yet.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whine. “We’ve just spent two hours at this table with me on the verge of—”
“Coming?” he interrupts, offering me his hand.
I swallow and slip my hand into his. He leads me through the restaurant and, just like when we entered, every pair of eyes are on us again. This time, he doesn’t stop to talk to anyone or shake hands. He just strides past with me bobbing along in his wake.
“Where are we going?” I ask in a hushed voice as Uri steers me in the direction of a black door on the opposite side of the restaurant. “Isn’t the exit over—”
He pushes the door open and I find myself standing in a gorgeous greenhouse garden, chaotically overrun with flowers in every shade and green vines winding around every available surface. It smells incredible, fresh and fragrant and clean. We follow a thin stream that slices down the middle of the space down to a bench set in a patch of verdant grass.
Uri glances back at me, one eyebrow arched as he asks, “Can you handle a walk down to the fountain?”
“I can handle anything you dish out.”
He smirks and pulls me along. I try my best to keep up, but there are moments when I feel like I’m about to burst. Despite how gorgeous it is out here, no one’s around. And with each passing moment, I relax.
Well, as much as you can relax when there’s a vibrator making you walk funny.
Uri stops at the bench. The stream bubbles a few feet away, flowing towards a tiny pond pockmarked every now and then with fat orange koi fish exploring the surface.
“So did you make your point?” I ask, gesturing towards the restaurant.
He smirks. “Yes.”
“Care to tell me what that point was?”
“That no matter what happens, nothing affects the Bugrov Bratva.”
A little chill runs down my back when he says that. Bugrov Bratva. You don’t have to know much about Uri or his operation to feel the weight that underpins that name.
“Doesn’t it get… I dunno, tiring?”
He frowns. “It’s my job.”
“Is that another way of saying you’re always in control no matter what?”
Uri observes me with a curious expression on his face. “I have to be in control.”
I shake my head. “No, you like being in control. There’s a difference.”
“Both things can be true.”
“Which one is truer?”
He smirks as he reels me in closer to him. “Right now? The second one.”
He pulls my dress up so high that I’m afraid he’s going to expose my ass to anyone who might be watching. I jerk away from him and yank down the hem. “What are you doing?”