Page 7 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

She was a first-timer.

Oh, right. Her words reminded me of the host's exaggerated tone onstage—she was a virgin. But faking it was common in these places. They'd craft custom Barbie dolls based on the boss's particular kinks.

But I believed her. No reason why.

"So what are you going to do now?" I asked.

She took a deep breath, like she was making up her mind. "I know I can't escape, but could you please be gentle? I'm scared."

She looked like a soldier marching bravely to her death. I had to laugh.

A six-hundred-thousand-dollar prize, lying in my bed, asking me to be gentle. This was ridiculous.

I forced down the rage. "Anna, grown men don't force women."

Her lashes lifted. She looked at me, confused.

Then she rolled over. Her fingers brushed my rigid forearm—so light, yet it made my entire back go tense.

"Sir, but you're not calm right now."

God, how could she ask that in such an innocent tone?

Of course I wasn't calm. I wanted to pin her down and fuck her to death.

I took deep breaths, over and over, pushing down the fire, and slowly got up.

She gasped in surprise and sat up too. "Sir, where are you going?"

"To do the grown-up thing."

I walked into the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the shower. The water was warm, running down my shoulder blades, but the fire was still there. It wasn't washed away—just temporarily drowned out by the sound of water.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the tile, my head full of the way her eyes had reddened. I cursed under my breath, wrapped both hands around my cock, and started moving up and down.

The cold tile pressed against my burning spine. I tilted my head back, my Adam's apple rolling, my breathing getting rougher in the steam.

She was so small—if I actually fucked her, she'd cry, wouldn't she?

Thinking of her tears, those lashes trembling like windblown butterfly wings, the beast in my hand throbbed twice more.

The feeling was like being flipped by a riptide—I didn't have time to steady myself before I was dragged into deeper currents.

Anna. Anna.

I didn't want to admit it, but the truth was this woman I'd only met once had me hooked, every single second.

Then I heard a noise outside the door.

I turned my head. Through the frosted glass, I made out her silhouette.

That blurry outline was leaning against the bathroom door, slowly sinking down.

I couldn't see her movements clearly, but I knew—she was touching herself. Her breasts. Pinching. Squeezing.

In that instant, my eyes lit up. I even stopped breathing.

Turns out, the wildcat didn't just attack people. She touched herself too.