Читать книгу Hard sex. Rear entrance - - Страница 3

The morning started with a phone call that pierced her consciousness like a splinter. Tanya, without opening her eyes, groped for the phone on her bedside table.

“Speak,” her voice rasped from lack of sleep and the cheap cognac from last night, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

Scattered on the floor were crumpled towels she’d used to wipe herself down after a wild night with a security guard from internal surveillance. She needed him as a sleeper agent, someone to snoop around the offices. The chances of catching compromising dirt were slim—everyone knew cameras were everywhere, except in her office and a few other bosses’ sanctuaries. But she liked keeping men like him on a short leash, just in case.

“Tanya, it’s Olga. Sergey Igorevich… He didn’t submit his resignation. And he’s currently in Kirill Vladimirovich’s office.”

A chill gripped her insides. Instant, razor-sharp fury sliced through her exhaustion like lightning tearing across a dark sky. “That bastard. That old, pathetic bastard decided to fight back,” raced through her mind.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” she snapped and ended the call.

Of course, she wouldn’t make it in that time, but she needed to project resolve. If Sergey crossed paths with her in the hallway, she’d lay into him like a desperate slut looking for anyone to sleep with just to get a good word in for next month’s bonuses. Everyone had their own interests, and everyone had their price.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling. Beside her on the pillow slept Alex. His muscular back, slick with a faint sheen of sweat, faced her. Last night, after Sergey left, started off dull until she called Alex to kill time. But even his presence didn’t fill the void; it only irritated her.

She yanked the blanket off him.

“Get up. Get the fuck out, Alex…”

He rolled over, his sleepy eyes meeting hers. There was no subservience in them, like with the others. Just exhaustion and a dog-like loyalty that pissed her off even more.

“Tanya, how about coffee? You had a lot last night…”

“I said get out. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

He silently got up and started dressing. She watched him pull on his jeans, feeling nothing but emptiness. Not a drop of shame, not a gram of tenderness. Just irritation. Another witness to her degradation, another body that meant nothing. His movements were sharp, almost mechanical, as he tucked himself into his pants, not bothering with underwear. She looked away, not wanting to see more than necessary.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she bolted out of bed and stepped into the shower. Hot water scalded her skin, jets pounding her shoulders as if trying to break through her armor, but they couldn’t wash away the sticky feeling of helplessness. Sergey dared to defy her. It was a challenge. And she needed to respond in a way that ensured no one else would ever entertain such thoughts. She clenched her fists, feeling rage mix with cold calculation as steam swirled around her like ghosts of her past victories.

Forty minutes later, she strode into the TV channel’s building. Her heels clicked a staccato rhythm on the marble floor, the sound echoing through the lobby as employees parted like prey before a predator. She didn’t look at anyone; her face was a stone mask, her eyes two shards of ice ready to shatter anyone who stood in her way.

Olga was already waiting by the elevator, holding a tablet and a cup of cappuccino.

“Kirill Vladimirovich asked for you as soon as you arrive.”

“I know,” Tanya took the cup and sipped. The hot, sweet coffee slightly cleared her mind but didn’t douse the fire within. “Where’s that bastard Sergey?”

“In his office, I think…”

“Not his office, mine,” Tanya corrected and stepped into the elevator.

She didn’t go to Kirill. Instead, she headed straight for Sergey’s office. The door was closed. She didn’t knock. She shoved it open and stormed in like a tempest breaching a calm harbor.

Sergey sat behind his desk, pale but trying to maintain some dignity. Seeing her, he flinched as if struck.

“Tanya, I…”

“Shut up,” her voice was low and taut, like a string about to snap. She approached the desk, slamming her hands down and looming over him like the shadow of death. “You thought Kirill would save you? You thought your pathetic, worthless integrity meant anything?”

Tanya slowly straightened. An icy smile played on her lips, colder than a winter gale.

“What do you want?”

“I want you gone. Today. I don’t want a trace of you here. Your resignation on my desk in fifteen minutes. Otherwise…” she leaned in so close she could smell his sweat mingled with fear, “I’ll call your wife. And I’ll paint her a vivid picture of how her husband begged me to keep his job. On his knees. With tears in his eyes. Do you think your mortgage and two fancy private schools will survive your divorce? No need to remind you of that night with me at the Grand Tommy. I’ll destroy your career and your family.”

He turned a sickly shade of green and sank silently into his chair. He was broken. Completely. His empty, crushed gaze told her that any resistance died in him that very second.

Tanya turned and left without looking back. Mission accomplished. But inside, rage still churned like a volcano ready to erupt. She felt control returning, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

The day passed in a frenzy of work. She approved budgets, led meetings, her word was law. But inside, everything boiled, and to smother that fire, she retreated to her office twice, using her secret toys to inflict pain that distracted her from her thoughts. She sat in her chair, sharp sensations piercing her like lightning while receiving visitors. None of them suspected what lay behind her impenetrable mask. Pain was her ally, her way of regaining control.

That evening, she summoned Sergey to her office again. She needed to cement her victory, to grind him into the dirt for good.

He entered, trying to appear casual. Tall, fit, in an expensive suit, but his eyes betrayed the fear he hid behind false confidence.

“Tatiana, I’m glad that…”

“Close the door,” she cut him off. She stood by the window, back to him, staring at the city lights as cold as her heart.

He obeyed.

“On your knees.”

He stared at her, uncomprehending, as if the words didn’t register.

“What? Tanya, this is…”

“I said, on your knees!” her voice cracked like a whip, sharp and merciless.

And, to her surprise and wild, intoxicating delight, he complied. His smug, always self-assured face twisted with a mix of fear and arousal, like a beast caught in a trap. Her heart pounded faster, not from passion, but from the rush of absolute power coursing through her veins, hot and sticky like molten wax.

She approached him slowly, savoring each step, dragging a leather belt across his cheek as if caressing him, but with a promise of pain.

“You thought you could challenge my decision? Thought your friendship with the chairman of the board would save you?”

“No… Tanya, I…”

She didn’t let him finish. With a sharp motion, she unfastened his trousers and pulled his head toward her, under her skirt, to the warmth hidden by thin black silk panties, barely visible against her pale skin. Her fingers dug into his hair, roughly guiding him.

“Lick. And make me believe you want it.”

His movements were clumsy, almost unbearably humiliating, but that only fueled her fire. She stared at his graying crown, feeling power return to her, enveloping her like a warm cloak on an icy night. She directed him, humiliated him, forcing submission, rough and without ceremony. Her body responded not with passion but with triumph. Her skin, lightly damp with sweat, felt hot under the fabric of her skirt, and the delicate lace concealing her curves only underscored her control over him. She was a queen, and he was a pitiful subject crawling at her feet.

When she decided it was enough, she pulled away, wiping herself with his expensive tie as if it were nothing more than a rag. Without adjusting her clothes, she pointed to the door, her voice cold as steel.

“Get out. And remember—next time you think of defying me, it’ll end much worse for you.”

He shuffled out, eyes down, hunched like a beaten dog.

Tanya was alone. She walked to her desk. On it lay Sergey’s resignation. “For health reasons.” She picked up the paper and slowly, with relish, tore it into tiny pieces, watching them fall to the floor like snow covering the ruins of his resistance. Victory was hers, and she savored it like a rare wine, relishing every sip.