âNo!â
I land on all fours, panting, my entire body trembling and covered in sweat. Itâs dark and Iâm naked, and I have no idea where I am or whatâs happening. Then I register the feel of the hardwood floor under my palms and the faint moonlight pouring in through the wall-sized window, and it all clicks into place.
Iâm in my room at the Molotov estate, and none of what I saw is real.
It was another nightmare.
Wincing, I push up to my kneesâwhich immediately scream in protest. I mustâve bruised them when I threw myself off the bed.
Slender brown arm in a pool of blood⦠Gun in a black-gloved hand⦠Huge pickup truck barreling toward meâ¦
A fresh surge of adrenaline propels me to my feet despite the pain. Sucking in air, I fumble in the darkness for a lamp switch. My hand lands on the bed, and I feel my way over to the nightstand.
The bedside lamp comes on at my touch, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. My knees buckle with relief, and I sink onto the mattress, letting the light push away the lingering bits and pieces of the nightmare.
It was just a dream.
Iâm safe.
They canât get to me here.
After a couple of minutes, I feel steady enough to stand, and I walk over to the bathroom to rinse off the sweat drying on my skin. Before doing so, I flick off the lamp, as I ran out of clean clothes to sleep in but couldnât figure out how to work the blinds on the window. Thereâs probably a button hidden somewhere, but I was too tired to find it last night. As soon as I got to my room, I stripped off my clothes, hand-washed my shirt and underwear in the sink so Iâd have something clean to wear in the morning, and passed out the second my head hit the pillow.
Even worries about my disturbingly attractive employer couldnât keep me awake.
Now, though, as I stand in the shower, my mind turns to him, and my heartbeat revs up, my breath quickening with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.
Nikolai wants me.
I think.
Maybe.
I could be wrong.
Or⦠not.
Heat pools low in my belly, my breasts tightening as I picture the darkly intent look in his eyes and replay the things he said⦠and how he said them. No, Iâm not wrong. At least not about his attraction to me. Itâs possible he was just toying with me and has no intention of acting on said attraction, but I donât think so.
I think he intends to fuck me, and I have no idea how I feel about that.
Actually, thatâs a lie. My mind might be torn, but my body is very straightforward in its feelings. The heat inside me intensifies, an aching tightness coiling deep inside my core as I imagine what it would be like if he came up to my room at this very moment and knocked on my door⦠then, not getting a response, opened it and walked in.
If he was sitting on the bed, waiting, when I came out of the bathroom naked.
My eyes drift shut, my hands cupping my breasts, then sliding down my body as I picture him standing up and walking toward me⦠reaching out to touch me. My fingers slip between my thighs, where Iâm slick and aching, and I imagine itâs his hand, his cruelly sensual mouth down there. My breath hitches as the ache transforms into a heated throb, my leg muscles quivering with rising tension, and with a sudden burst of sensation, I come, my toes curling on the wet tiles as I lean against the glass wall of the stall, gasping for air.
Stunned, I open my eyes and pull my hand away, my heart racing madly in my chest.
I canât believe whatâs just happened. Iâve never been able to orgasm this way before, with only my fingers. Normally, I need a minimum of fifteen minutes with my vibratorâor for a guy to go down on me for a half hourâand even then, itâs hit or miss, depending on how stressed or tired I am. Arousal is very much a mental thing for me, which is why Iâve never gone for casual hookups.
I have to know a man to get intimate with him.
I have to like and trust him.
Or at least thatâs what Iâd always thought. I have no idea if I like Nikolai, and I certainly donât trust him.
So why does the mere thought of him bring me to the brink of orgasm?
Why am I drawn to a man who makes me feel like hunted prey?
The light falling on my face pulls me out of a sound sleep, and I groan, rolling over to escape it. But itâs everywhere, bright and warm, and it dawns on me that it must be morning, even if it doesnât feel like it.
Forcing open my heavy eyelids, I sit up and rub my face. Though I went right back to sleep after my impromptu masturbation session, I still feel tired, as if Iâve gotten only a few hours of shut-eye instead of the nine or ten I mustâve actually snoozed for. I have no idea what time it is now, but Iâm pretty sure I went to bed before ten.
Must be all those sleepless weeks catching up with me.
Swinging my legs to the floor, I take in the gorgeous view outside the window. Despite the bright sunlight, traces of fog envelop the distant mountain peaks, and the whole thing looks like something out of a postcard. Iâm tempted to sit and enjoy it for a minute, but I make myself get up and head into the bathroom to wash up. Itâs my first morning on the job, and I donât want to make a bad impression by showing up late. Not that I know what âlateâ isâwe didnât discuss my work hours or Slavaâs schedule yesterday.
Iâm clean from my nighttime shower, so my morning routine takes mere minutes. The shirt and underwear I hand-washed are still a little damp, but I throw them on anyway and make a mental note to talk to Pavel or someone about the laundry situation as soon as possible. Also, about my hours.
I need to understand what Nikolaiâs expectations are, so I can meet and exceed them.
My pulse begins to race at the thought of him, and I focus on gathering my hair into a bun to distract myself from the increasingly active butterflies in my stomach. I went to bed with my hair wet, so itâs got all sorts of weird kinks in it, and in any case, itâs more professional to keep my hair off my face.
Returning to the bedroom, I make the bed, pull on my sneakers, and square my shoulders.
I can do this.
I have to do this, no matter how my new boss makes me feel.