Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

A my

Going out to the club with Zoey was supposed to clear my head, but if anything, it had only made things worse. I’d thought a night of dancing, loud music, and a little too much wine would be the perfect distraction, but none of the guys I met that night took my thoughts off Aleksei.

Not a single one.

His dark eyes, the way he looked at me like he already knew what I was thinking, the maddening certainty in his voice that told me he wasn’t just here to charm me—he was here to conquer me.

And a part of me wanted him to…

I’d gone home that night feeling more unsettled than before. And the next day? No better. Every time I tried to focus on something else, his voice would slip back into my mind, smooth and sure, telling me he knew exactly what I wanted before I’d even admit it to myself. Every moment we’d shared replayed in my head on repeat, leaving me flushed and angry and… impossibly aroused .

I wanted to pretend I wasn’t turned on, but I couldn’t deny how wet my pussy got just thinking about him.

On Friday night when I got home from the club, I touched myself while thinking about him. Saturday morning, then the afternoon, then later that evening… Sunday the same thing until I tried to force myself to go to bed that night without having another orgasm, but I tossed and turned, the frustration building until, finally, I gave in.

My hands moved over my body, caressing, teasing, touching all the places I thought he would, rolling over my clit as I imagined his fingers touching me there. And as I brought myself to orgasm after orgasm, his name was on my lips.

Not just as Aleksei…

But as Daddy too .

I made myself come so many times that by the time Monday morning rolled around, my clit was sore.

But not a single one of those orgasms was enough to truly satisfy me and I made a horrible realization as I slid my hand into my panties one more time, desperate for it not to be true, to come to any other conclusion, but I knew the truth.

It was going to have to be him.

And I hated that.

Except for the tiny part of me that didn’t.

It was barely nine in the morning, but the gallery was already bustling with people and as I stepped inside, I could see why. The auction from last week had drawn interest from collectors, critics, and dealers alike. Today, we had a bunch of new faces milling around, admiring pieces that ranged from delicate to the provocatively bold.

I got to work right away.

I spotted Aleksei across the room, already deep in conversation with a potential buyer, his posture relaxed but commanding, that effortless confidence that made everyone around him lean in just a little closer. I forced myself to ignore the flutter that rose in my chest. After all, I’d spent the entire weekend masturbating to thoughts of him and trying to get him out of my head, and here he was, real as ever and just as infuriatingly magnetic.

But I couldn’t think about that.

Determined to stay focused, I threw myself into work, scanning the room and zeroing in on a couple discussing a minimalist sculpture near the gallery’s center. As I approached, I caught Aleksei’s eye from across the room, and he offered me the faintest nod. I looked away quickly, not wanting him to see how much of an effect he had on me.

And how hard it made my pussy clench to know he was watching me.

Over the next few hours, we worked together seamlessly, a well-rehearsed duet without missing a beat. I guided buyers through each piece’s intricacies, handling questions and inquiries, while Aleksei drifted between conversations with effortless charisma, keeping the gallery’s atmosphere electric and inviting. Occasionally, our paths would cross, and our eyes would meet for a split second before we moved on.

It was… professional, sure, but charged with electric tension, too, like we were silently testing each other to see who’d falter first.

When the crowd finally thinned, and the last of the lingering buyers left, I could feel my shoulders ease. I should have been pleased with how smoothly things had gone.

But as I watched him, perfectly composed and infuriatingly calm, something inside me flared red hot. Resentment? Annoyance? To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure. All I knew was that after a weekend of pressing my fingers between my thighs trying to forget him, Aleksei Morozov was firmly under my skin, and I didn’t know what to do about that.

He walked over to me and stopped. I could feel his eyes on me, and I tried not to let it get to me.

“Nice work,” he said casually, his tone as smooth as ever, but I heard the edge of amusement in his tone.

“Just doing my job,” I replied, sounding shorter than I intended. I didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on me, or the faint smile that played on his lips.

“Well, keep it up,” he murmured, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant. “I knew I hired you for a reason.”

My cheeks warmed, and I straightened, trying to cover up the effect he was having on me. “You know,” I said, meeting his gaze with a steely look, “I don’t need constant supervision. I know how to handle myself.”

Aleksei raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “I’ve noticed,” he said, taking a step closer, his expression calm, though there was a glint of challenge in his eyes.

I hated how my clit pulsed at the sight of it.

“A few of the pieces went for more than I predicted,” I said, folding my arms and lifting my chin as I tried to stay composed, even as I was actively ignoring the dampness between my thighs.

“Did they?” Aleksei replied, his tone casual, but I saw the slight smirk in his expression. “I had a feeling the Rothko would fetch higher than expected. His works had a renewed interest lately, something about the emotional rawness that resonates with today’s buyers.”

“Yes, but only after we brought in that write-up on the piece’s connection to modern existentialism,” I countered, hoping to catch him off guard. “I arranged for that to be front and center—it drove interest and ultimately brought in more buyers.”

Aleksei’s eyebrow lifted. “True, but with the crowd we had, I doubt it was just the write-up that sealed the deal. These people want a certain kind of atmosphere, one that says they’re part of something exclusive. The write-up helped, but knowing how to work the crowd… that’s what pushed the price even higher.” He paused, his eyes gleaming with quiet triumph. “And that’s precisely why I didn’t place the Rothko where you initially suggested.”

My jaw tightened, and I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Fine, so you were right about the placement,” I admitted, forcing myself not to look away.

“Sometimes you have to understand how to read the room. Sometimes the art itself is only half the game.”

His tone was maddeningly calm, with that quiet, assured confidence that suggested he’d already seen this outcome coming. I felt a flush creep over my cheeks, a mix of frustration and, if I was honest with myself, a reluctant admiration. No one ever managed to get under my skin the way he did, to challenge me and make it feel like he was two steps ahead of my every move. It was infuriating—and entirely too arousing.

He’d bested me and it just made my pussy even wetter.

“Well,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt, “I suppose that’s why you’re the boss, right?”

Aleksei’s smile was faint, but his eyes gleamed with something warmer, something that sparked against the tension I could feel in the air between us. He held my gaze, and in that moment, I felt the full weight of the quiet power he wielded without saying a word.

“Yes, but I hired you for a reason. I can’t do this alone,” he replied, his voice low.

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine, and I felt the air between us tighten, the distance shrinking until his cologne drifted over me—a heady, intoxicating blend of something rich and dark, with a hint of cinnamon and spice. It hit me like a slow, dizzying wave, my senses betraying me as my pulse quickened and warmth spread through my body, pooling low in my core.

I willed myself to stay calm, to hold my ground as he drew nearer. But every inch he closed only seemed to intensify the heat radiating from him, and I could feel my own cheeks warm in response, the space between us charged. His gaze flickered, and I thought, for a breathless moment, that he might reach out again, that his hand might tilt my chin just as it had before, but he didn’t.

At least, not yet.

He moved closer, close enough that I felt the warmth of his presence wrap around me, like he was drawing me in, daring me to look away. My breath caught as he raised his hand, his fingers hovering near my face, and I knew my composure was slipping. I felt the edge of his fingers almost graze my skin, his thumb brushing close to my jaw.

He cleared his throat, and I lifted my gaze to meet his. And for a split second, there was something else, a subtle shift behind the confident mask that sent a shiver of excitement down my spine. There was no smugness in his expression, no arrogance. For a moment, the look on his face was something entirely different.

Hungry.

Desire, unmistakable and raw.

My pulse quickened.

In an instant, I knew this man would make me come so hard that my legs might give out and that made me angry and aroused and altogether off balance. And to top things off, I also knew that each orgasm he forced from my trembling body would be more fulfilling than any single one I’d ever had in my life. This man could bring me to the brink and make me want more.

The thought alone was enough to make my pussy ache.

I wanted him to say something, anything really, but he just stared into my eyes like he could read me like a book.

It was maddening.

But he stayed quiet for a while longer before he finally spoke.

“Are you thinking about slapping me again or are you thinking about something else right now, little girl ?”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I knew my face was giving away everything I was trying so hard to hide. Every thought I’d tried to brush off, every way I’d convinced myself I didn’t need him, every reason I’d used to keep myself distant—all of it had crumbled, and now I was left standing here, unable to pretend anymore.

I couldn’t spend another day like this, caught in this relentless tug-of-war, fighting against a need that seemed to have settled somewhere deep within me.

In this moment, with Aleksei standing so close, his eyes intense and knowing, I felt… defeated.

Bested, maybe. But not in the way I’d feared.

No, this was something else—something that left me feeling small, vulnerable, like I wanted to give in, to see what he’d do if I just stopped fighting him.

His gaze locked on mine, as if he could see every thought racing through my mind, every whisper of doubt and desire I hadn’t even admitted to myself.

He’d won.

I swallowed, my breath catching as he tilted his head slightly, a smile barely there on his lips, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. And I realized, with a thrill that was half-excitement, half-surrender, that I wanted him to know. I wanted him to see that he’d won, that I was his, if only I could bring myself to say it.

“Something else,” I whispered, my voice hardly audible enough to hear, but his eyes flashed, and I knew he’d heard every single syllable that had fallen off my lips.

Aleksei stepped in closer, his body closing the distance between us until I felt the cool press of the wall at my back. The heat of him, his nearness, was intoxicating, making it hard to think straight. I could feel the power he wielded, the way he knew exactly what he was doing to me, like he’d planned every move, every word. His presence wrapped around me, strong and unyielding, leaving me with nowhere to go but closer.

I took a small step back, pressing myself against the wall, my breath coming quicker as he moved in, until there was barely any space between us. He was so close I could see every detail—the faint stubble along his jaw, the gleam in his dark eyes as they locked onto mine, intense and unwavering. And as much as I tried to look away, my gaze drifted up to meet his, my heart pounding in my chest.

“What do you need?” he asked, his voice a soft, almost coaxing whisper that made the heat rise in my cheeks. His tone was gentle, but there was an edge to it, a quiet authority that made me want to keep listening, to lean in closer. He leaned down, his face only inches from mine, his gaze intense as he studied me, as if waiting to see how far I’d let him take this.

I swallowed again, the anticipation making it impossible to pull away.

“What do you need from Daddy, little girl?”

I dropped my gaze as he leaned in a bit closer, and his pelvis brushed against my belly, the contact sending a rush of pleasure through me.

His cock was hard.

For me.

Maybe, just maybe, he wanted this as much as I did.

His palms pressed against the wall as he towered over me, pinning me in place with nothing more than his body. I looked up, caught in his gaze, my pulse racing as he held me there, the space around us shrinking until it felt like he was the only solid thing in the world. Every instinct told me to look away, to resist, to push back, but I couldn’t. He had me completely, and he knew it.

He leaned closer, his breath brushing my cheek, his voice a low, velvet murmur.

“You’re quiet, little girl,” he said, his tone soft but edged with a challenge, like he was waiting for me to speak, to admit what I wanted but couldn’t say.

My lips parted, but no words came out. I was too overwhelmed, too consumed by the way he looked at me, like he’d known all along that I’d end up right here, caught between wanting him and fighting myself.

“Tell Daddy what you need, little girl.”

His voice was soft, but I could feel the command in his tone.

“I—” My voice faltered, and I could feel myself blush even hotter. “I need… you.”

I winced, unable to believe what I’d just said. Aleksei smiled and leaned in just a little bit closer, brushing his erection against my belly a bit more firmly.

“Be specific, baby girl. Tell Daddy exactly what you need,” he pressed, and my face felt like it had caught fire.

I gulped, unable to stop myself from imagining him lifting my dress and taking me right here against this wall, of his cock sinking into my pussy as he drove into me, over and over again until I screamed his name as I came.

“I—” I started, then cleared my throat. It felt like too much to hold his gaze, so I dropped my eyes. Then lifted them and dropped them once more. “I need your cock,” I finally confessed, my voice trembling, barely more than a whisper.

He smiled, but the smile had a hint of something sharper.

Something a bit predatory.

Something dangerous.

His hand brushed lightly along my neck, sending a shiver of desire down my spine. Then his fingers curled, and he gripped my neck. Not hard. But with an iron firmness that made it clear I wasn’t going anywhere. That maybe, I was in over my head.

“Then get down on your knees and show Daddy how much you need it.”