Mistake number two—thinking that cosplaying as a freaking ninja-slash-Seal-Team-Six-member was a good idea.
I rip off my mesh cover-up the moment I get down to the basement and fling it to the floor like a petulant little brat having a temper tantrum—which, truth be told, isn’t that far off the mark. I’m reaching back to undo my top ties when something strikes me.
What if Uri is watching?
Almost as soon as I have the thought, something inside me snaps. Let him watch. Let him stare at my naked body and lie to himself about wanting it.
I get a delicious sense of satisfaction in imagining Uri sitting at his desk in the office, watching me on the screen. He was hard last night and he was hard this morning when he had his fingers inside of me.
He may get off on torturing me by denying me pleasure…
But two can play at that game.
I peel my bikini top off first. Next goes the bottoms, slow and smooth with a crisp bend at the waist for full effect. Once I’m completely naked, I crawl on all fours onto my bed and lie down flat, making sure to position myself at the optimal angle for the camera. Just enough for him to see my body, to wonder what sights he might be missing by staying stubbornly a whole floor away from me.
I spread my thighs and float my hand down between them.
The more I think about it, the more I decide that Nikolai is right: the only reason Uri’s trying so hard to punish me is because he still cares about me. And he hates that he does. He hates it so much that it eats up at him from the inside, like battery acid in his veins. So he lashes out every chance he gets, just to make me feel what he feels.
Well, I’m done being his punching bag. If I’m forced to stay in this basement, in his house—then I’m going to make sure he can’t ignore me.
I arch my back and start touching myself a little more aggressively. I put on a show for the cameras, letting my moans fly free.
Take that, Uri Bugrov.
I’m just relaxing into things when I hear thundering footsteps just outside the basement door. Well, well, well. Someone is punctual.
Sure enough, he storms in, all indignant rage, his eyes blazing when they land on me. I don’t bother to stop. I don’t even sit up. I just grab a breast and tweak the nipple while my other hand circles my clit slowly.
His face looms over me but I refuse to be embarrassed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hisses.
“If you can’t tell, then you’re even more clueless than I thought,” I murmur through parted lips. “You couldn’t finish the job. So I’m going to.”
“Couldn’t?” he balks. “The word is ‘wouldn’t.’”
I shrug as best as I can manage with my fingers inside me. “Whatever. The point is, I can get off. With or without you.”
He shakes his head. “Bull-fucking-shit. You’re not doing this for yourself; you’re doing this to get my attention.”
“Ahh… fuck, that feels good…”
His jaw clenches. “You want me to fuck you, is that it?” That glint in his eye reminds me of the look an addict gets just before they cave. “You want me to treat you like a slut that I can use whenever the hell I please?”
His words sting—but fuck it, let them; I refuse to let him derail my determination. The fact that he’s here in the first place proves that I still have some power over him. For a man who’s extremely insistent on reminding me that he doesn’t give a shit about me anymore, he spends an awful lot of his free time watching my every move.
Something about that is not adding up.
“I’m not going to try to change your mind about me, Uri. You believe what you believe. In the meantime, I may as well get mine… Ahh, that feels so…”
His eyes are daggers, ready to impale me. It’s entirely possible I’ve overplayed my hand and he’s just going to walk out and slam the door on me. Probably rescind his decision to give me freedom of the house. All a consequence of that neon green bikini.
I’m too worked up to care. My body is piled high with emotion—desire, passion, anger, frustration, the stubborn zeal to give as good as I’ve gotten. Any one of them will do in a pinch.
“Stop it,” he growls in a low voice dipped in desire.
I meet his eyes and curl my lips up in a teasing smirk. “Make me.”
“Blyat’，” he snarls as he practically rips his belt off. Within seconds, he’s naked, too, his body covering mine.
His skin feels like silk wrapped over a boulder. I shudder against him, welcoming the warmth. His erection is pressed against my thigh. I have just enough time to get my fingers out of my soaking slit before he grabs me by the hips and twists me around. He forces me onto all fours and then his cock thrusts inside me, relentless and rough.