Sergey's eye has been twitching for about ten minutes as you are tapping your pen on the massive wooden table. He tsks, trying to tell you to wrap it up, but you ignore him. He locks the smartphone, then chucks it on the sofa and crosses his arms over his wide chest, letting out a hefty sigh. ”Girl, can you give the tapping a rest? It gets on my nerves,” his voice sounds strained. But you carry on, not even noticing his discomfort.

“I'm about to start having a nervous tic. Seriously, pack it in, or I'll unleash Margo on you,” he grumbles, his threat lingering in the air. The albino crow raises her head and croaks across the room, as if she telling Sergey, ”Bog off.” Is he deeply offended? Nah, it's all just a load of codswallop, and he's just showing off.

He reaches out to you, not giving a toss about whether you're uncomfortable. Sergey's arms wrap around your waist and yank you out of the chair, dragging you towards the burgundy soft sofa. Well, now he's as happy as a cat that's eaten the cream. “You know I'm terribly jealous of you,” he shakes his head towards the crow, and Margo croaks again, hiding her beak under her wing. “You're a sly one. But you're mine,” he snorts.

Your fingers dig into his long fiery red locks, playing with his hair, and after a bit, he chills out and seems to totally forget that you were annoying him. He lies on your fragile body, plonking his head comfortably on your chest, sliding his nose along your collarbone, and a grin spreads across his lips. ”So-o, since you distract me from work, I have an idea...” he deliberately stretches out the words, “wanna füсķ?”

His hands stay put on your hips. You feel a warmth spread through your body as Sergey's touch lingers, his breath gently brushing your skin.