Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 31

“I’m so sorry to take up so much of your time, Ms. Carson,” Ruslan deadpans. “I didn’t realize how busy you were today.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I mutter, trying to shut my phone up. “Ugh, how do you turn the damn vibration off?” I almost drop my phone trying to change the settings. In the end, I just shove it into the pocket of my fitted black pants. I glance up to see that Ruslan is still staring at me with those crackling amber eyes.

“If you need the services of a full-time nanny, I can make some inquiries on your behalf. You can certainly afford one now.”

It takes a few too many seconds for his offer to compute. While it does, I just blink at him. Is he really trying to be helpful? Unless of course he’s just being sarcastic and I’m so turned around that it’s going right over my head. That would make more sense.

“Um—that’s—really nice of you,” I manage to choke out. “But the kids already have a nanny. Amelia is good.”

“But she’s not full-time?”

“No, and I don’t want her to be, either.” I shift uncomfortably. “I want to be able to spend quality time with them on the weekends at least. I barely get to see them during the week.”

I have no idea what he thinks of that. His cheekbones are carved from marble. “At the expense of your own sanity—and by extension, mine?”

I clench my jaw. “I’m not stressed because of the kids. I mean, yes, the weekend was chaotic. Caroline broke a wine glass and Reagan took a marker to the walls. And something’s bothering Josh, but I have no idea what because he doesn’t—” I clam up when Ruslan’s eyebrows knit together. “Well, anyway, my point is that the kids aren’t the problem; my parents are.”

“Is that who’s been calling you?”

“Incessantly.”

Among others. I decide to leave all mention of Remmy aside. The less I think of that slimeball, the better.

For a split second, I detect the shadow of a smile on Ruslan’s face. But one blink later, he seems just as irritated as ever. “Kindly inform them that you don’t take personal calls at work. You’re excused,

Ms. Carson.”

It’s a heavy-handed way of saying, ‘I don’t give a shit about your family drama; just keep it out of the office,’ but I still think I’ve gotten off easy. I’m almost at the door when he stops me.

“Oh, and Ms. Carson?”

Burying the flinch, I turn back around. “Yes?”

“Be ready at eight tonight.”

I gulp and nod. Then I levitate back to my desk.

The world seems brighter and less grim now. A visit to the penthouse is exactly what I need tonight. Between Ben and Remmy and my parents, I’m strung out. I want someone to hit my factory reset button and reboot my brain. And apparently, that button is located inside my vagina.

I glance down at my phone. Thirteen texts from Mother Dearest. Groaning, I open the thread and scroll through the messages. They’re all variations on the same old theme: Bring the kids over so that we can show them off, preferably before we die and you regret forever that you kept us from our grandchildren.

I mute the thread and put my phone away. I’ll deal with Mom and Dad tomorrow. Right now, I have sugar baby duties to prepare for.

I feel like a live wire as Ruslan and I ride the elevator up to his penthouse. It’s a totally different experience this time around. I’m not nervous; I’m not shy. What I am is ready. Ready to forget about all my problems and all my stress. Ready to lose myself in the euphoric haze of heated foreplay and sweaty sex.

Honestly? I don’t even really need the foreplay today.

All I want is to have Ruslan fuck me into oblivion, until that urgent sense of pressure in my gut is stamped out altogether. I want his cock so bad I’m actually salivating for it. I want him to give it to me hard. Fast. No holds barred.

Doesn’t seem like the feeling is mutual, though.

He’s still attached to his phone, his eyes fixated on the screen as he scrolls and scrolls. Even when the doors open, he steps out without lifting his gaze.

The sound of my heels disappears into the plush carpet. I take them off along with my coat. I hear the click as Ruslan turns his phone off and something inside me snaps. I’m not interested in playing it cool today. I’m not willing to wait around until he makes the move.

We both know what we’re here for. Why beat around the bush?

So I throw myself at him, lips landing hot against his. I didn’t expect him to kiss me the first time we did this, but once he ripped that Band-Aid off, all I’ve been able to think about since then is doing it again.

That kiss was everything.

This one is somehow more.

I don’t give him any time to react before I’m ripping at the buttons of his shirt. One flies right off and almost pops me in the face. But I’m not willing to let anything slow me down.

My hands slide down his washboard midsection while little shivers run through my body. I trace his tattoos with my fingertips. When I cup his dick through his pants and give it a squeeze, he lets out a soft growl. Then, without warning, I find myself thrown against the wall, hands pinned to the sides of my head, trapped between the wall and the heat of his skin.

“What’s gotten into you today, kiska?” His lips travel along my jaw and down towards my neck.

“The thought of you getting inside me,” I gasp. “I can’t wait today, Ruslan.”

“Hm.”

That sound…

“Fuck me,” I beg. He pushes his hips against me, his erection stabbing at my thigh. “Ahh… please… Just fuck me.”

“You want it rough today?”

He knocks my legs apart with his knee and forces himself between them. His cock is right there, pressing at my pussy through my pants.

“Y-yes,” I moan. “Oh God, yes.”

His lips slide back up to my ear. He circles my lobe with his tongue. “Dirty little kiska. You want me to fuck you like the filthy little minx you are?”

I nod frantically as my eyes roll back in my head. Is it possible to have an orgasm just from dirty talk? I’m game to find out.

His tongue sneaks into my mouth and I’m caught off-guard by how harsh it is. It’s not a kiss at all; it’s a tongue fuck. It’s him saying, You’re mine. Every inch of you, head to toe, inside and out.

My cheeks are flushed and my lips rubbed raw, but still, he demands more. He takes greedily, his tongue demanding payment, his cock threatening to rip through the crotch of my pants.

When he breaks away, I’m gasping for breath. My head is spinning so fast that if he weren’t holding me up, I’d be melted into a puddle on the floor.

He captures my gaze for a split second. Those amber eyes are ablaze. “Be careful what you wish for, little kiska.”

He pushes my hands together and pins them in place over my head. He unbuttons my pants first and then his. His palm presses firmly against my soaked panties before he spins me around and yanks them down around my thighs.

“Ruslan…” I whisper helplessly as his cock teases against my drenched pussy. The head of him parts my lips. One more tease. One more tortured moment of waiting.

Then he thrusts forward. I’m so wet that he slips inside me without any effort. My whole body bears down around him.