Fuck, she was beautiful when she was angry. This was the first time I’d tasted it, and now I longed for more.
I dipped my head in a slight nod. “Then so be it.”
With a sniff, she raised her defiant chin, turned around, and walked away, knowing I would follow her.
I’d always go wherever Emma led. The tight hold she had on my heart demanded it. She could walk through the fires that led to Hell, and I’d eagerly follow by her side while we went through the flames.
Who had hurt Mr. Volkov? Who made him believe he was undeserving of presents?
All evening, I asked myself that question and concluded it was probably his mom and dad. I felt the need to hold him close after thinking about his parents hurting him. Had he ever received hugs as a kid? Had he known what it felt like to be loved? His family hadn’t called him on his birthday, and that had to be one reason why he thought he shouldn’t receive presents. Because I wanted to replace his family and show Mr. Volkov love, it scared me. He was my boss and nothing more.
A boss that you dry-humped and let stick his dick down your throat until he came.
I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my thighs to stop the throbbing in my core. I could still taste and feel Mr. Volkov in my mouth if I tried hard enough. It’d been days since he’d punished me, and I’d been aching to find a reason for him to punish me again.
My hands trembled as I lowered them from the Christmas tree I’d talked him into getting earlier today. I’d stopped Christmas shopping after he found me in the indie bookstore. But we were productive after I convinced him to get decorations like a tree, figurines, ornaments, wreaths to hang outside, and so on. Since he was of no assistance in picking out the color scheme he wanted, I went with light blue, cream, and black.
As soon as the ache between my legs subsided, I resumed putting the twinkling lights on the tree. I hummed “Jingle Bells” and got lost in my task, my mind blank as I went through the motions.
The tree smelled so good; the strong pine scent brought great memories with it. I remembered all the years when my dad bought the biggest tree he could find. He’d help me decorate it, and afterward, we’d have eggnog while Dad listened to my ten-year-old self jabber about Santa Claus.
I stood on my tiptoes as I wound the lights near the top. When I circled back, I had to jump to hang it on the limbs.
A warm chest pressed against my back, and an arm reached past my shoulder and took the lights from my hand. The aroma of late-night bonfires and a hint of expensive cologne wrapped me in a hug. My head became hazy with the desire the smell brought. My breath hitched, and I held still as Mr. Volkov took over while still leaning his chest against my back.
An unbidden image popped into my mind: Mr. Volkov behind me as he stretched my pussy with his enormous length; his hand fisted in my hair as he held me up while I was on my hands and knees. I could faintly hear him growling,“Such a good little whore.”
My cheeks warmed, and I squeezed my legs together. The ache had returned, and it came in full force as the scene played in my mind. As if he knew what I was feeling, he inched closer until his groin was against my bottom. I could feel every inch of him and stopped breathing when I realized he was hard. His silence was so loud that I wanted to blurt out something,anything, to fill in the quiet.
When he moved behind the tree, I instantly felt the loss. I nibbled on my bottom lip, watching him for a moment. He was dressed in his three-piece suit, his white hair falling past his shoulders. I wanted to run my fingers through those silky locks. I didn’t know why I had this urge every time. Maybe a forgotten part of me knew he’d let me play with his hair.
Our gazes met as he came around the other side, his hands still working meticulously at hanging the lights. That one look he gave me said so much. But it had to have been in my mind. There was no way his eyes held messages like“I want to bend you over and fuck you”or“You drive me mad with need”or“Keep looking at me like that and you’ll find out all the creative ways I can make you come.”
I stepped back, both turned on by and scared of what he’d do to me. He looked away, his dark eyebrows lowered, and he scowled at the tree like it had insulted him.
Turning away, I picked up the box of ornaments, grabbed a few cream balls, and started hanging them on the limbs. My hand trembled, and it took several tries to drape the thin hooks over the branches. Dimitri looked at me for a moment before he grabbed the ornaments and began hanging them, too.
A question burned on my tongue. I didn’t want to overstep by asking it, so I swallowed it and kept quiet. Once we got to the last ornament, I let him hang it, and I picked up the large star with a little light inside. It would look so pretty when the lights were turned off. Peering at the top of the tree, I knew I’d have to get a chair to reach it.
Mr. Volkov grabbed my wrist and jerked me toward him. I gasped as he turned me around in his hold and rested his hands on my waist like he was about to throw me into the air like I weighed ten pounds.
“What are you—” I squeaked as he raised me into the air and held me close to the tree.
“Place the ornament on the tree, Ms. Hayes,” he murmured.
My cheeks warmed, and I leaned forward, unintentionally pressing my bottom into his face. He made no protest, and I thanked God for it because it was already embarrassing that he picked me up to lend me his help.
“Okay,” I said after setting it in its place and ensuring it wouldn’t fall off. Mr. Volkov lowered me to my feet, and I turned to him with a smile. “Thank you.”
He gazed at me with a scowl that would normally upset me, but the look was typical of him because of how grumpy he was all the time. It was similar to having a resting bitch face, but Dimitri had more of a resting grump face.
A giggle escaped me. I bit my bottom lip to hold back my laughter, but it spilled out. He cocked his head, his frown deepening as he stared at me like I was some spectacle. His eyes flicked over my face, searching for the reason I was laughing like he’d just told me the funniest joke. I shook my head, giggling, and backed away, only for him to catch my wrist again and yank me against him. My breath left my lungs, and I placed my hands flat against his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath my palm.
“What are you laughing about, Ms. Hayes?” He didn’t raise his voice—it was still soft but held steel that demanded I not withhold anything from him.
Another giggle escaped me, this time out of nervousness. “It’s silly and not that important.”
His hands tightened on my waist. I bit my lip from the sting of pain from his touch. Normal girls might’ve disliked the pain, but I loved it and wanted him to leave his marks on me. Oh lord, I had it bad for him.
