My lids went heavy as I watched his face. His gaze was keen with fascination as I grew even wetter for him. I got the impression that he hadn’t fingered a girl in forever. Of course, his “script” hadn’t called for it.

He teased my opening until I was squirming, about to shove myself down on his finger. “You just get wetter and wetter. I could make you come again, only from this.”

Yes, but I’d lose my mind! “Más. Give me more, Máxim.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You call me Máxim?”

“I’ll call you whatever you want if you finger me more.” My toes were curling in my stilettos.

As he probed deeper, inch by inch, I moaned from the filling sensation.

“Your little clit’s so swollen. Do you want me to rub it?”

“Yes!”

“Or do you need to be fucked?”

“Both! Either! Anything . . .”

Yet then he frowned. “Your pussy’s tight. Very tight.”

Would he know that I hadn’t had sex in forever? Need to distract him. “I’ll be this tight around your cock, querido.”

He pumped his finger inside me. “Tell me you want it.” He laid his free hand over one of my breasts, thumbing a nipple.

“Yes, I want your cock!” My thighs quivered. I tripped toward another orgasm, and he hadn’t even touched my clit. I’d never felt so much pleasure with a man; I loved being an escort!

He pinched my other nipple. “Then I won’t give it to you yet.” He stilled the hand between my legs. “Fuck my finger.” Again I sensed a surge of anticipation in him, as if he were a kid with a new toy.

Shameless with need, I began to move against his hand, sending his finger in and out of my pussy. I was already about to levitate when his thumb made contact with my aching clit. “Ummm!”

He rubbed it with slow circles while fingering my core.

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I arched my back, stiffened nipples pointed at the ceiling.

“You’re about to come again?” he asked in disbelief. “Look at me.”

With difficulty, I raised my head.

“You don’t come without my permission.”

Qué? I had no control.

“Ask me for my permission. Say ‘Can I come for you?’ ”

Confused, I whispered the question.

I didn’t realize I’d spoken in Spanish until he rasped, “In English, beautiful girl.”

“Can I come for you?”

“Not until I tell you.” He wedged another finger into my core, screwing them into my tightness.

The fullness sent me over the edge. “Máxim!” The fire was back, searing every inch of my body. As I thrashed my head, I dimly heard him telling me he could feel my pussy squeezing, that I’d been bad, and he’d punish me for coming without permission.

But all the while he thrust his big fingers and circled his thumb, drawing out my orgasm, forcing me to ride each mindless wave, each delicious spasm. . . .

When he withdrew from me, I moaned with loss, still not sated. For some reason, I was even hornier than when we’d started.

His smoldering gaze raked over my naked body, taking in my glistening pussy, my flushed chest, my swollen breasts—even my hair fanning out wildly from my head. He reached forward, grasping a lock. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he grated, and immediately frowned, dropping my hair. Was he surprised that he found me sexy—or that he’d told me? “You want me too.”

“Want? Estoy desesperada!”

He stood to undress. “Desperate? Don’t worry, I’m about to give you what you need.” He removed his shoes and socks, then he pulled his sweater over his head.

As he revealed more of his body, I shivered with appreciation. His wide shoulders were muscled, his pecs rigid with dusky nipples, his arms brawny. He had sculpted washboard abs, and a tantalizing black goody trail that I wanted to nuzzle. His tanned skin sported a few raised scars over his chest and arms, but they didn’t detract from his hotness.

His expression grew stern. “You disobeyed me. You came without permission.”

I stretched my arms over my head, loving his gaze on my tits. “I regret nothing.”

He unbuckled his belt, his movements menacing. So why did I feel no fear of this strange man? He snagged a condom from his pocket, then unzipped his slacks. As he worked them over his massive erection, I gasped.

His cock was a work of art. Distended, damp-tipped, with a plum-colored crown and a thick veined shaft. I wished I could explore every inch of it at my leisure. I’d never been a fan of head, but I licked my lips to imagine my tongue flicking that bulbous tip, teasing it. My mouth nursing that length . . .

He stood nude before me, his body the most mouthwatering I’d ever seen. All I could think: Best job ever!!!

He wrapped his big fist around his shaft, giving a stroke that rendered me breathless. More moisture beaded the slit. As he rolled on what had to be an extra-large condom, he said, “Show me what I’m soon to enjoy.” There was no mistaking his tone. He’d given me a command.

Beautiful arrogant man.

I would follow his order, but I’d do it my way. I lifted one foot onto the couch back, resting the stiletto heel against the sofa’s piping, then let my knees fall wide. I undulated in this position, taunting him with my spread pussy. “How do you like variety now, querido?”

His cock pulsated in his hand, and he muttered something in Russian that sounded like a curse. He returned to the couch, kneeling between my legs. The difference in our sizes struck me. He made me feel tiny and fragile—while he was all hard edges and power.