Free The Professional by Kresley Cole Page A

fellatrix.
    Out the window, I spied a glorious sight. The moon shone over the ocean. The ocean! My vacation was off to a promising start.
    He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. “It made you happy, to be used by me?”
    Perhaps not so promising. I raised my brows with amusement. “I orgasmed three times; you did once . Who’s using whom, Siberian?”
    His lips parted in surprise. Well, that shut him up.
    Tonight I’d realized something. I’d always thought that when I lost my virginity, I would be ceding something. Now I comprehended that with a man like Sevastyan, I’d be gaining something.
    Pleasure to boggle my brain and memories to last my lifetime.
    My entire mind-set about the deed was evolving. Insight: if a guy I had sex with ever carved a notch into his bedpost, I’d tell him to carve one into mine too—and then to go make me a fucking sammich.
    Sevastyan said, “This was an indiscretion that must never be repeated.”
    “Because I’m taboo?” I frowned as a thought struck me. “Tonight wouldn’t, like, get you killed by Kovalev or anything. Right?”
    “Of course not. He’s not a murderous tyrant.”
    “Then what is it?”
    “I took advantage of his daughter. I can scarcely believe I’ve touched you.” In the moonlight, I could see color tinting his cheekbones as he muttered, “Struck you.”
    “I ended up loving every second of what we did.” I, Natalie Porter, had gotten my rocks off while being spanked. And I was going to roll with it.
    I felt like a phone that had downloaded a new platform, but never been reset. When I’d orgasmed with him, I’d blipped, I’d blinked, and now I was ramped up.
    He’d reset me, tweaking how I would feel about sex for the rest of my life. “Sevastyan, don’t turn a positive into a negative.” Joke him, joke him . . .
    He faced me with a suspicious expression. “You were tight. Very much so. Surely you’re not a virgin.”
    With a defiant look, I shrugged. “Guess you didn’t find out everything about me.”
    He bit out a dumbfounded “Blyad’!”   The word meant whore , but Russians said it like we might say Oh, fuck!
    “This is not a big deal.” It wasn’t like I still had an intact hymen. My arsenal had taken care of that.
    “Then why in the hell are you on birth control?”
    So he’d seen the patch on my hip? “Various reasons.” Mainly, I used it to regulate my periods.
    But he wasn’t listening to me. “It’s bad enough to do this to a woman of experience.” He shot to his feet, prowling the suite from one wall to the other. “It’s another to despoil a girl who’s never been touched!”
    “Despoil? You didn’t just say that archaic word! Well, it’s only to be expected since we didn’t have a chaperone and your manroot is so virile.”
    He scowled. “ I might not look at it in such an ‘archaic’ way, but I don’t know how others will react.”
    “Others? Like my father?”
    Brusque nod.
    “I thought you knew him so well. Well enough to tell me how great my new life is going to be.”
    “I do know him well. But he’s never had a daughter before. I have no idea how he would take this.”
    “And what if I weren’t his daughter?”
    “You are .” He stabbed his fingers through his thick hair.
    “Answer the question.”
    He swung his head around, giving me a look so raw and primal that I gasped. “If you weren’t, I’d be buried inside you right now. Devstvennitsa ili net .” Virgin or not. “What was supposed to sate my appetite has only whetted it.”
    Facts: He’d fantasized about me for the last month. He craved having sex with me, even if I was a virgin. He’d seemed to like certain things about my personality. He wanted more of me; I sure as hell wanted more of him—
    “But this can never happen again,” he added, his tone ringing with finality.
    Was I going to be cock-blocked by some twisted kind of mafiya logic? I rose, walking on my knees to the edge of the bed, loving how his