Page 29 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

His fingers find the button of my jeans, and he pops it open and pulls the zipper down with a rasp.

I suck in a sharp breath as his hand slips inside, palm pressing against my lower belly before dipping lower, cupping me through the thin fabric of my panties.

Heat floods my core, a rush of need that makes my thighs part instinctively.

His mouth claims mine again hungrily as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. “Lift for me,milaya,” he murmurs against my lips. I obey without thinking, hips rising as he drags the denim down my thighs and over my knees, tossing them aside with my coat.

Cold air makes goosebumps rise on my bare legs, but his hand is already back between them, sliding beneath the lace.

Two thick fingers glide through my slick folds, teasing my entrance before pushing inside me roughly, and I gasp, breaking the kiss.

“Rashid—fuck,” I breathe, clutching his shoulders. He curls his fingers, stroking that perfect spot that has me shuddering and clenching.

“Can I make you scream my name right here?” he growls, pumping slowly, thumb circling my clit. “Have you thought about my hands on you?”

I moan, head falling back against the seat as pleasure sparks up my spine. “I have… God, I have. Don’t stop.”

His dark eyes lock on mine while he works me open, adding a third finger, stretching me. The wet sounds are obscene but intoxicating. “Good girl. I’ve waited years to feel this tight pussy again.”

My hips rock shamelessly against his hand, chasing every thrust.

He kisses me hard, swallowing my whimpers, then pulls back just enough to watch my face as he quickens his pace.

I reach for him, desperately palming the hard bulge straining against his slacks. “Rashid… please.”

With a low chuckle he shifts, unzipping his pants with his free hand and pulling his dick out. “You want it, don’t you?” he whispers hotly against my ear. “Say it.”

“Yes,” I gasp, voice breaking. “I want it—I want you.”

Rashid’s eyes darken with triumph as his fingers thrust deeper, curling relentlessly against that sensitive spot inside me while his thumb rubs firm circles over my swollen clit.

Pleasure coils viciously in my belly, and I wrap my trembling hand around his thick cock, stroking from base to tip.

But my rhythm is sloppy, broken by every sharp jolt of ecstasy.

“Fuck—Rashid,” I whimper, trying to focus on the hot, velvety length pulsing in my palm. Pre-cum slicks my fingers, but another curl of his fingers rips a cry from my throat.

My grip tightens instinctively, stroking him in short, uneven pumps as my hips buck wildly against his hand.

“That’s it,milaya. Come on my fingers like a good girl,” he growls in my ear, pumping harder. “God I've missed your touch."

I try to hold out—God, I try—but the orgasm crashes over me without warning.

My thighs clamp around his wrist as I shatter, back arching off the seat.

A strangled moan tears from my lips, as my inner walls spasm around his thrusting fingers, soaking his hand as wave after wave rips through me.

My strokes falter completely, turning into desperate, shaky squeezes around his throbbing shaft while I tremble and gasp through the climax.

It steals my breath and makes me feel drugged and hazy as Rashid watches me hungrily, never slowing his fingers until I’m whimpering, oversensitive, and boneless against the leather.

Only then does he ease them out, bringing them to his mouth to taste me with a deep, satisfied groan.

"God you taste good. I want more,” he rasps. Before I can catch my breath, he grips my panties and tears them off in one brutal yank, baring me completely from the waist down.

I barely have time to gasp before he drops to his knees, yanks my thighs wide apart, and buries his face between them.

His mouth is hot and merciless—tongue dragging through my dripping folds, sucking my clit to make my hips jerk again.