I nodded and swallowed to wet my dry throat.
“Oh, my sweet little sunshine. I love breaking you apart and piecing you back together. If you want me to treat you like you’re my whore, I will. As long as you know I’m not gentle and love hurting you.”
“I don’t want you to be gentle,” I whispered.
He dragged his knuckles over my cheek. “You are such a peculiar little human, you know that?”
I smiled, enjoying that he thought I was different from the rest of the human population. I knew every person was unique, but something about Dimitri choosing me brought butterflies to life inside me.
My stomach took that moment to growl, and Dimitri’s eyes filled with male amusement. “Let’s get some food in you.”
He raised me from his lap to let his softening cock slip from me. I sighed at the loss but said nothing. Dimitri got off the bed, and the muscles in his shoulders rippled with his movements. His ass flexed as he walked toward the bathroom to clean up. His long white hair fell down his back like silk, and not a strand was out of place after all we’d done. Dimitri paused and turned toward me, all playfulness replaced with somberness.
“Do you remember who spoke to you?” he asked.
I blinked, confused by what he meant. “Who spoke to me?”
“From your dream. You said someone talked to you. Do you remember who?”
“Oh.” I nibbled on my bottom lip, trying to recall who the person was, but came back blank. I shook my head. “No.”
Dimitri stared at me for a moment, not showing his thoughts. He turned away and gave me his back as he entered the bathroom. “That’s too bad,” he whispered.
Days passed, and it was snowing again. I marveled at the fat flakes that fell outside. I stood in front of Dimitri’s floor-to-ceiling windows in his office at the law firm. He was in a meeting, and I wasn’t needed, so I hung out here waiting for him to return. I had a million and one things to do, like getting everything ready for the Christmas and New Year’s party this weekend, but my mind had been in other places.
The memory of my dream still haunted me. The woman who’d spoken to me sounded so familiar that it drove me mad. I wanted to find out who she was. It was right there at the tip of my tongue but didn’t come.
I’d also been thinking of names for Dimitri’s demon. Everything I came up with never seemed right, and I wanted something perfect for him. How had he gone this long without a name? As much as he frightened me, I still held affection for him. I yearned to learn more about him. What music did he like? What was his favorite food? I wanted to know what made him tick and have conversations with him that didn’t end up with me shoved against furniture and him shoving his cock in me.
A shiver ran through me as I remembered how that monstrous thing squeezed into my ass. I could feel the phantom pains from when he stretched me. The masochist part of me longed for him to punish me again. To make me hurt. But most of all, I wanted him to abuse my pussy and not just my ass.
Dimitri’s office phone rang. I started and blinked out of my wandering thoughts. I turned away from the windows and stared at his phone, which continued to ring. A red light flashed on the screen. It rarely rang, but when it did, it was usually an important call.
Biting my lip, I glanced at the door, then back at the phone. I sighed and picked it up. “Dimitri Volkov’s office. This is Emma. How can I help you?” I answered.
“Oh, hi, Emma,” a woman said.
I drew my eyebrows together. She knew who I was? Who was she?
“It’s Mia at the help desk,” the woman said, a smile in her voice.
My eyes widened. “O-oh! Hi! I’m so sorry about that.” I grinned. “How can I help you?”
“Someone is here with a package for him. Can you come get it? They won’t leave until they get a signature, and I don’t want to sign for it.”
“Oh, sure thing,” I said. “I’ll be right down.” I hung up the phone and left the office.
I passed by the meeting room. The door was closed, and the shades were drawn to give everyone privacy as they talked. I’d wanted to see Dimitri, but that was okay. I’d see him when he was out.
On my way down to the main level, something niggled in my mind. I didn’t know what bothered me, but after the elevator doors opened, the feeling disappeared, and I quickly forgot. I made my way to the front of the building and reached the visitor’s desk. A UPS employee stood there chatting with Mia while he held a box against his side, his arm curled around to keep it secure. He squinted his eyes with his charming smile, and I knew without a doubt he was hitting on her while they talked. As I approached them, he looked at me, still grinning.
“Hi,” I said with a little wave. “Do you need my signature?”
He placed the box on the counter and produced the small signature pad. I glanced at Mia, who watched with a faint smile. The driver held out the pad for me, and I scribbled my signature.
“You ladies take care,” he said, giving Mia one last look, with interest sparkling in his brown eyes. He walked away, and I grabbed the box.
“How are you doing, Emma?” Mia asked with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. I didn’t want to read too much into it, but my paranoid mind homed in, and I wondered what I had done to upset her. Did someone tell her about all the “weird” things I’d said and done in the past? Did they gossip with her about my mental illness?
