My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3)(8)

By: Megan Michaels



“You have no idea. I’ve been saying it since I met her three years ago. I’ve tried to rein her in, but I’m not her husband or disciplinarian. I wish I had that authority many days. I’ve lectured her on this several times. I’ve even threatened to tan her backside — not that I’d actually go through with it. My wife would kill me. But damn, she needs her bottom paddled.” His hands squeezed the steering wheel, his jaw clenching. “Makes my palms itch.”

“Palms itch?”

“Yeah, you know. The palm of my hand wants to spank her so bad, it’s itching. Make sense?”

“Yes. We don’t say that, but yes. Makes my palm itch too. I’ll be ‘dancing from the stove’ with her, definitely.” Maxim nodded, laughing when he saw the confusion on Jason’s face.

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed. “Dancing from the… stove? Does this have to do with you being a chef?”

“Nyet. It means. How you say it — it means I’ll start from the beginning. Right from our first meeting she will know that I mean business. I’m not going to be run over by a small slip of a woman.”

Jason laughed, running his hand through his hair. “Dude, you need to rethink that. First, she’s not a ‘small slip of a woman.’ Caroline is about five foot nine inches and close to six feet when she’s in heels she likes to wear for work. She’s not slight either — she’s curvy and… sturdy. And she’s tough as nails, sassy, and someone who’ll fight you for control. Trust me on this.”

Maxim’s cock stirred. He loved curvy women. As a big man, he wanted a lush and round women, and they provided that naturally. He loved nestling against that plush flesh. “My father would say, ‘Strong like bull’. He also loved large women. Must be where I got it from. But again, she will learn that I like rules and have expectations for behavior and manners, as well as healthy eating and fitness.”

“Sounds good to me. About damn time somebody came along to help her with some of her weaknesses. This’ll be good for her — all the way around, it sounds.”

They passed the rest of the ride in silence, until they pulled into the basement level parking garage of the advertising agency’s building.

Jason opened his window and swiped his badge in front of the reader, the gate lifting, letting them in. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m parking, and then we can take the elevator up to Caroline’s office. I need to talk to her, then I can walk you up there myself.”

Maxim smiled. “That is good.”

* * *



Sammi’s voice sounded from the speaker in Caroline’s office. “Jason and Maxim Volkov are here.”

Caroline took a deep breath. “I’ll be right there.” She stood, nervously pulling at the skirt. A simple little black dress seemed to make the most sense today. It would be flattering. She wore her strappy three-inch heels that accentuated her legs, a simple strand of pearls around her neck along with matching earrings. She felt this would at least make an impression.

Even she had to admit she looked great in the dress, especially with her bodysuit Spanx. How in the name of hell did women survive before Spanx?

She looked at her reflection in her window.

Here goes nothing.

Opening the door, she walked out to the reception area. Jason looked angry.

What else is new?

A very attractive, well-built man stood talking to Sammi. He appeared to be well over six feet tall, broad-shouldered in a custom suit. He turned his deep chocolate brown eyes toward her. His penetrating gaze made her uncomfortable, the man seeming to see right through her. Even in her heels, he stood taller than her by easily four inches. She didn’t usually have to look up to men when she dressed for work. She liked that. It didn’t give the man any feeling of advantage.

His head was shaved, a look that was definitely a weakness for her. She loved the look of a bald head. The confident and masculine men didn’t rely on their hair — and usually they were no frills and no nonsense men too. His muscled physique was easily visible even under the suit. Maxim had broad shoulders and huge arms — even his thighs filled out the pants nicely. He’d be someone who would push her in a gym.

But isn’t that what you wanted? All that bulk next to you, guiding and instructing you?

He smiled her way. He had a small dimple on his right cheek and a cleft in his chin.

Good God!

How in the hell was she going to be able to focus around this man? He extended his hand to her and she noted the wide palm, the long, thick fingers. His hand would easily cover one of her ass cheeks.

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