Page 10 of Diamond Don
I didn’t, however, foresee just how badly the mere thought of kissing her would affect me.
I suppose I should’ve had an inkling of it when the first glimpse of her blue eyes rendered me momentarily speechless.
If not that, then the fact that touching her soft skin had utterly driven me to distraction should have given me pause.
Yet, somehow, even after all these signs, I didn’t expect to notice my heart thundering in my chest in anticipation of the warmth of her lips against my own. Or to feel my member uncomfortably strain against the tight confinement of my trousers when she scratched the back of my neck with her fingernails.
It is disconcerting to acknowledge that she effortlessly evokes these visceral responses from me. Above all, I pride myself on being a rational and level-headed man, even under duress—especially under duress.
It was by keeping my emotions in check and dispassionately planning my every step that I managed to become the Russian bratva’s pakhan in my mid-twenties and still hold that envied position a decade later.
Like most men, I have a healthy appetite and appreciation for sex and beautiful women, but it’s still perplexing that a mostly innocent and platonic interaction with a girl—even one as naturally sensual and attractive as the one before me—has me struggling to conceal an erection in a crowded party. I haven’t needed to deal with such humiliating embarrassments since I was a teenager.
The only explanation for this astonishing behavior is that I have allowed myself to go too long without a woman.
In all honesty, managing my legitimate business enterprises and handling my bratva affairs is enough to keep my plate full. This ordeal involving Patrick McGuire and Maxim hasn’t made my life any easier. Since my friend’s return, I’ve been too distracted to make time for sex. With so much on my mind, finding the time and motivation to pursue women hasn’t been a priority lately.
Until tonight—everything changed tonight. One look at the woman in the sexy black velvet dress, and suddenly, it’s hard to fathom that anything could be more urgent than the need to peel off her gown and fuck her until she can’t remember the name she refuses to give me.
She licks her bottom lip while gazing at my mouth with a look on her face I can only describe as longing. I don’t know if it is a calculated move intended to drive me over the edge or if she can’t help herself. I’m not even sure which option is worse. Or better, I suppose.
Regardless, it doesn’t matter. The result is the same either way. I can no longer restrain myself. I wrap my right hand around the back of her bared neck to pull her closer as I lean forward and take her mouth with my own.
Fuck.
I assumed—or hoped—that my awareness of her unnerving effect on me would lessen or even counter my inexplicable reactions to her. Short of physically bracing myself, I did all I could to prepare for what I knew would be a shamefully intense response to the velvety touch of her lips.
She softly moans against my mouth, eagerly greeting my tongue with her own, and I understand how ridiculously foolish and futile my attempt was.
There was nothing—absolutely nothing—I could have ever done to prepare myself for the reality of what kissing this woman feels like. Not in the meager few moments I had since she urged me to kiss her. Not in the thirty-something years I’ve had on this planet.
Had I been granted a thousand years to wander the earth and prepare for this instant, it would likely not have been enough.
I might as well have been struck by lightning—every inch of my skin is alive and electrified by her touch.
She runs her hands down my chest in an excruciatingly slow way that has to be designed to drive me to sheer madness. Without warning, she grabs hold of my jacket, pulling me closer, hard and fast. All I can do is groan against her mouth.
Our flirtatious banter from earlier was light-hearted and charming, but our kiss is setting a different mood. It changes things—it changes everything, actually—at least as far as I’m concerned. But if the intense way she’s clinging to me as her clever little tongue twists around mine is any indication, I would say the feeling is most certainly mutual.
My plan was to convince her to leave the gala with me tonight. I meant to take her to the presidential suite of my favorite hotel, conveniently located only a few blocks from here. There, I was going to take my time uncovering and discovering what her pretty dress conceals until she begged me to fuck her. Repeatedly.
Now, I don’t think I can wait that long. I have a feeling I won’t even last that long. This desperate need is entirely foreign to me. Yet, somehow, I recognize with perfect clarity that self-restraint and delayed gratification are beyond my capabilities at the moment.
This realization is a profound shock to a man as self-assured and disciplined as I like to think I am. I can only assume that the fastest way to disperse whatever spell she has cast on me is to satiate this visceral hunger she has awakened as swiftly as possible. I don’t think it would be wise to let this feeling grow, festering and taking hold inside of me.
Even more importantly, I can’t risk her changing her mind. It took me a good deal of cajoling to even get this far with her. I have to close the deal as soon as possible. I couldn’t bear it if she got cold feet and backed out now.
In a feat of truly exceptional mental dexterity, I manage to divert enough brain power to the vital task of remembering the museum’s layout while her breasts are pressed against my chest. An impressive feat, considering how much of my blood flow is currently diverted to the opposite direction of my brain.
There must be somewhere around here where I can get her by herself. If I’m not inside her in the next few minutes, I don’t know what I will do.
Even through the too many layers of clothing we’re unfortunately still wearing, I can tell her nipples are stiff. My train of thought is derailed by my awareness of her, and it takes me a few seconds to stop wondering what shade of pink the hardened peaks might be.
My cock inadvertently twitches against the warmth of her stomach and I recall that, across the gardens, a few dozen yards beyond where the orchestra still plays, there’s a vacant room. The museum’s staff will sometimes store extra chairs or other supplies in there during events such as tonight’s party.
It’s likely unlocked and unoccupied right now. Most importantly, it’s close by and private. It isn’t the Four Seasons, but it will have to do.
Right hand still clinging to the back of her neck, I drag my left one down the smooth skin of her back until it reaches her generous ass. I palm it without hesitation, holding her hips close to mine as I move towards where the backroom is located.