Her dazed eyes absently roamed the hall, and again she had this disturbing feeling that every ancient piece of art was a pagan spectator, waiting for them to consummate a union that was destined. But she forgot all about it the moment she felt Mykolas’ hand slipping between their bodies once more, his questing fingers delving down.
“Mykolas!” She couldn’t help crying his name out loud as he suddenly sank two fingers into her pu**y. Although she was already soaking wet and their many late-night chats had somewhat eased the tightness of her inner passage, his fingers were much larger than hers. With just two fingers, he made her feel so full, and she gasped his name again as he started to f**k her with them.
“Do you like it?” he purred.
She squeezed her eyes shut at the sheer pleasure of his fingers filling her pu**y. Damn, damn, damn, but she had never felt this full and it wasn’t even his cock. But even as she could feel herself near to passing out at the way his fingers thrust in and out of her, Velvet managed to say, “It’s tolerable.”
Mykolas chuckled. “I guess I have to do better then.”
Her eyes widened. Oh shit. “Mykolas, no, I—” She ended up moaning, her head falling back against the wall as he sank a third finger into her. He moved his fingers faster, too, f**king her harder as he nuzzled her arched neck.
“Mykolas, please.”
The way Velvet sobbed his name out made him growl and suck on her neck. She stiffened, and as he sucked harder, she started to sob his name, her h*ps thrusting wildly against his fingers.
He lifted his head, capturing her gaze with his as he growled, “Who do you belong to, Velvet?”
This time, she had no thoughts of denying the truth, not with her br**sts heaving against his chest with each thrust, and not with her pu**y stuffed full with his fingers.
“You,” she whispered, and when his thumb started stroking her cl*t even as his other fingers continued to f**k her pu**y, Velvet cried out as her orgasm crashed onto her. “I belong to you!” She started to sob his name over and over, her body shaking hard in his arms for his fingers still hadn’t stopped thrusting and her pleasure nub had become so sensitive under his thumb it, too, shivered under each stroke.
As Velvet’s soft limp body fell against him, Mykolas couldn’t remember feeling so alive. The time he had spent wooing this woman was more than worth it. Velvet Lambert was his perfect match in every way, her passionate nature complementing his own. With this, he knew that he would never let her go – and he had an idea how to ensure this.
Chapter Five
“I can’t believe you had the entire museum closed down just because you were horny,” Velvet said over an hour later with a shake of her head. She was seated across Mykolas, enjoying a late lunch in the cozy dining area of his private yacht.
“You should be flattered then.”
“I should,” she agreed, “but I think it was just an ego trip for you.”
He laughed, knowing she had only said so because Velvet – even as beautiful as she was – appeared unable to graciously accept compliments. “No. It wasn’t. I simply wanted to know if you tasted as good as I had imagined for the past months. Now, finish your meal quickly and no more talking until you’re done.”
“Why are you in a hurry?” she complained even as she did try to hurry with her steak.
“Because you have to eat something else.”
Velvet was astonished. “I do?”
He grinned. “My cock.”
She choked on her last forkful of steak and had to drink several gulps of water. When she had stopped coughing, she glared at him and said succinctly, “Asshole.”
But Mykolas didn’t seem to hear her. He was looking at her empty plate in approval. “Good. Normally, I love to watch a woman eat, especially when she knows how to appreciate good food, but now I find myself hungrier. We’ll have coffee up at the deck and then after, I’ll f**k you until you pass out.”
Velvet laughed at the businesslike way he discussed today’s itinerary as she let him drag her back up. “You’re so romantic.”
“Romantic cannot give you an orgasm, agape mou. Remember that.”
The words had Velvet’s smile fading a little, and she was thankful Mykolas had his back to her. The more time she spent with Mykolas, the more she feared she wasn’t just sexually infatuated with him. Now that she knew what he looked like – and God, he was so much more gorgeous and sexy than she had ever hoped he would be – everything that had happened between them since the day he found her phone had taken on more meaning. It had become more vivid in her mind…more special.
Up on the deck, Mykolas arrogantly asked her to rub sunblock on his back and give him a massage as well. She politely told him to drink the sunblock and massage himself to death.
Mykolas, who was lying on his chest on the wooden lounge chair, lifted his head and turned to her, saying silkily, “If you do it, I may be persuaded to share a little about myself.”
She snatched the sunblock from his hand. “Give me that,” she grumbled and pushed him back down on the chair.
Mykolas obeyed with a grin, and he let out a grunt of pleasure as Velvet’s soft hands rubbed oil on his back.
Mykolas’ back was smooth, hard and all sculpted muscles. Velvet would never admit it to a living soul, but she loved giving Mykolas a massage, loved the feel of his sinewy muscles reacting to every stroke of her fingers.
Mykolas turned his head to the side so he could watch Velvet. She was dressed in a skimpy red bikini, one of the many things he had personally ordered for her weekend wardrobe. And good thing he had bought her clothes, since the first thing he had ended up doing when they met was rip her dress apart.
“Ask then.” It was something she had frequently pestered him about whenever they were talking on the phone or exchanging texts.
“Tell me something about yourself that no one knows.”
He thought about it carefully. “It’s not a good thing.”
“Tell me still.”
He looked at her squarely. “I believe everything, everyone, has a price.”
Velvet blinked, her hands momentarily stopping its ministrations. “Oh. You’re right. That’s a totally shitty thing to believe.”
“But it is true, agape mou. It does not mean that there are no good people left in the world. It only means that for the right price, every person can be made to do something.”
She shook her head. “What about love?”