His fingers rubbed restlessly through the fabric as his lips bit my earlobe with blatant suggestion, triggering a shiver I couldn't control.
"But about what you said—'perfect in every place that matters'..." That low, magnetic voice was lethal. "When we get home, I might need to personally, thoroughly measure you to see if my fiancée's been lying."
The temperature in the car skyrocketed with that last sentence, the air thin as if we were at five thousand meters altitude.
I locked eyes with Nikolai's gray gaze inches away, my heart like an out-of-control jackhammer pounding my ribs.
Screw the Volkovs.
"Why not now?"
I heard my own voice, bold enough to carry a hint of provocation that even shocked me. I didn't retreat. I sank deeper into his territory, grabbing his silk shirt collar hard and forcing his head down. "My Mr. Pakhan, since when did you get so hung up on ceremony?"
Nikolai's pupils contracted violently in an instant.
"Fuck."
He cursed low. That mask of cold control he'd maintained for so long shattered into powder.
The soundproof partition in front rose smoothly under Sasha's extremely perceptive operation, completely sealing the front and back into two worlds.
No wasted words. His long arm swept up, brutally ripping off his suit jacket. The next second, he slammed me down hard onto the wide seat.
The dark, enclosed car instantly became the most private and dangerous battlefield.
The leather seat groaned under our combined weight. Outside, Maryland's desolate night and occasional flashing streetlights flew backward across the dark bulletproof glass, unable to penetrate this narrow, scalding metal box by even a hair.
His kiss crashed down.
Savage, brutal, carrying a destructive hunger to swallow me whole. I tasted the spicy remnants of liquor in his mouth and the most primal predatory instinct of a male hunter. My hands clawed at the hard muscles of his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh without evennoticing, just tilting my head back, opening my mouth, meeting all his violence without reservation.
My skirt was shoved up roughly, the velvet fabric raising a stinging, abrasive sensation against skin. The AC and the searing heat of his palms clashed violently in the air.
"Vivienne..." His sandpaper-rough voice exploded against my eardrum, his big hand gripping my hip bone hard enough to leave purple finger marks. "You asked for this."
He shifted suddenly, lifting me with effortless strength as if I weighed nothing. In one fluid motion, he positioned me straddling his lap, my thighs bracketing his powerful hips, knees sinking deep into the supple leather seats on either side. The confined space of the backseat amplified everything—the heat of his body radiating through his clothes, the faint scent of leather and expensive cologne mixed with raw masculine musk. His hands were everywhere at once, impatient and demanding. They tore at the delicate fabric of my dress, shoving aside the thin barrier of my panties with zero finesse, claiming every inch of exposed skin like territory long denied.
His thick fingers slid between my legs, parting my slick folds without mercy. "Christ, you're already soaked."
I was. God help me, I was drenched, my body betraying every ounce of restraint I'd tried to cling to. My arousal had been building since the moment he'd laughed in that rare, unguarded way. My inner thighs trembled, slick with need, as his calloused fingertips circled my swollen clit, teasing just enough to make me whimper.
His belt buckle clinked sharply. The zipper rasped down with agonizing slowness, revealing the hard, thick length of him. He was already rock-hard, veins pulsing, the broad head glistening with precum. I reached down instinctively, wrapping my fingers around his impressive girth, stroking once, twice, feeling him twitch and throb in my palm.
The vehicle lurched violently forward. Momentum did the rest. With no warning, he slammed into me in one brutal, unrelenting thrust. The sudden intrusion tore a raw scream from my throat as he stretched me wide open, filling me to the hilt in a singlestroke. The burn was intense, bordering on pain, but it melted instantly into overwhelming pleasure. No warm-up, no gentle easing—just raw, devastating fullness that made my walls flutter and clench desperately around his cock.
"Sasha's still up front," Nikolai hissed through gritted teeth, though his dark eyes were blown black with lust, his grip on my hips bruising. "Unless you want him to hear every goddamn filthy sound you make—"
I slapped my hand over my own mouth, teeth sinking into my palm to stifle the cries already bubbling up. He was so deep, so thick, pressing against that sensitive spot inside me with every tiny shift of the car. The road was far from smooth. Every bump, every dip and crack in the asphalt sent shockwaves through the suspension, forcing my body to rise and fall on his cock in a relentless, uncontrollable rhythm. Nikolai seized control of it, using the momentum like a weapon. His powerful hands gripped my ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he slammed me down harder with each jolt, gravity and his brutal strength driving him impossibly deeper.
"Fuck... so tight," he groaned, his breath hot against my ear. "Taking me like you were born for my cock, Vivienne."
"Can't—" I gasped against my palm, my eyes rolling back as another deep thrust punched the air from my lungs. "Nikolai, I can't be quiet. It's too much—"
"Then don't." His voice was pure gravel, rough with command. One hand left my hip to fist in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to expose my throat before pulling me forward again.
I lunged forward, burying my face in the junction of his neck and shoulder. My teeth sank deep into his taut skin and muscle, biting down hard enough to break the surface. Warm blood flooded my mouth—coppery, salty, unmistakably him. The metallic tang should have repulsed me. Instead, it ignited something primal. I sucked at the wound, tasting him as I rode the violent rhythm of the car and his thrusts.
The taste made him feral.
