Maxim makes a beckoning motion, stepping closer. “I’ll take those.” I hand them to him, and he tucks them in his pocket.
“Hands on the hood. Spread your legs.”
Thrills of excitement zing through me as I take the position, pressing both palms to the cool metal and affecting a wide stance in my high heels. It’s a warm night, so I’m not chilled by my nudity out here. Or perhaps it’s the heat pooling between my legs. The risk of being caught up here by someone, completely naked, makes this a hundred times more exciting than if we were somewhere private.
Maxim palms my breasts from behind, squeezing both nipples. “My wild bride.” I toss my hair when I look over my shoulder at him. His hand claps down on my ass, hard. I shriek and then laugh. Tremors run down my legs.
“Ouch?” I murmur.
He slaps me on the other cheek, just as hard. “I know, caxapok. But you look so pretty with my hand prints on your ass.”
More shivers shoot down my inner thighs, lifting my arches and curling my toes.
“Be a good girl and hold still for it.” I do because I freaking love it. He spanks me in a flurry of short, quick slaps warming my ass with his palm until I’m shifting on my feet. “That’s right.” He rubs the sting away.
“What’s it for?” I ask. I don’t know why. I think part of me still wants to know if he’s forgiven me for the past.
“For making me fall in love, lyubimaya.”
I whimper because it tears me wider open every time he says it. Smashes my defenses. Leaves me more and more vulnerable to this man.
Did my father know I would feel this? That we could be happy together? In love?
Even the tiniest sliver of belief that he did feels like redemption. I didn’t know I wanted to be redeemed. Certainly not by him. But the feeling is wonderful. He didn’t despise me. What if he did want what was best for me?
“Please,” I beg.
Maxim’s fingers slide between my legs, and I almost come just from that touch. “Begging already, sweetness? You need my cock?”
“Yes.”
“You want to be fucked over your brand new car? Need me to show you who’s really driving around here?”
I laugh because I knew it must bother the extreme alpha male in him to let me drive, and yet he did it anyway. “Yes. Show me.”
“I’ll show you.” I hear the rip of a condom foil, and then the head of his cock rubs over my wet folds.
I push back, eager to take him. After a week of non-stop sex, I’m addicted to the feel of him inside me. To coming when I’m stretched wide and sore from his pounding. Surrendered to his control.
He’s a bossy lover. He talks dirty and puts me in degrading positions, but he always makes sure I come at least twice as many times as he does. He takes care of me.
He slaps my ass again lightly as he pushes in. “Damn,” he groans. “You look like a Penthouse pinup right now, baby. You’re like every man’s dream. A hot car and an even hotter woman.
He reaches around to stroke my clit, easing in and out of me slowly. “What part do you like best, sugar? Your spanking or knowing we might be caught?”
“Getting caught,” I gasp, my inner muscles squeezing his cock. Although I love the spanking, too. “You?”
“Me?” He catches hold of my hair and tugs my head back. “I just like being in charge.”
I squeeze around him again.
“I like it when you offer yourself up to me like a gorgeous little fuck-doll.” He pinches one of my nipples, then pushes my torso down. “Tits on the hood, beautiful.”
The car is shiny clean, but even if it wasn’t I would do what he told me. Maxim makes pleasing him a game I like to play.
He holds me down with his hand in the middle of my back and starts slamming in harder. When he pushes too hard and my pelvis slams against the car, I yelp and he instantly adjusts, wrapping his forearm in front of my pelvis to cushion the contact.
And then it’s on.
He slams in harder and harder, making me lose my breath, lose my mind.
The pressure of wanting to finish before we’re caught ratchets up my need, and yet it feels so good, I don’t want it to be over, either.
“I’m going to fuck you up against the window at home. Out on the rooftop. I’m going to finger you in that theater the next time we go there.”
“Gospodi,” I whimper. “I’m going to come.”
“Not until I say.” There’s a sharp warning in his voice.
He hasn’t played this game with me before, and I go cross-eyed, trying to hold back the tidal wave about to descend.
“You be a good girl and wait for permission.”
“You’re… crazy,” I pant.
He grips my hair, pulling my head back at the same time he pushes my torso down, making me arch for him. Hurting me lightly in that wonderful, dominant way of his. “Crazy for you.”
He comes, and I screech, already coming, too, unable to hold off any longer. Maxim chuckles darkly, dropping his torso down over mine, his cock still inside me, his body molded to mine from the back. “You’ll be punished for that, lyubimaya.”
I close my eyes, my internal muscles pulsing again around his cock in an aftershock. “I couldn’t help it.”
He kisses my neck. “Me either.”
Chapter 18
Sasha
I walk out of my acting class with a group of actors, still talking about the Stanislavaski exercise we did. It’s the third week I’ve been going, and I already feel like I belong. I have friends. I love the exercises. I’m getting the inside scoop on the Chicago scene.
Maxim found a Hollywood speech coach to help me with my accent in virtual sessions, and if I concentrate, you can barely tell I’m not American. At least, that’s what my new friends say.
“Hey Sasha, you want to join us for coffee?” one of the older women asks.
I hesitate.
At first, Maxim didn’t want to let me come to this class alone, but I threw a fit. Having a possessive and protective husband sitting in on class would make everyone think I was a freak. After a throw-down, he ended up dropping me off and picking me up for the first class, but last week, he decided I could start leaving the Kremlin on my own because Dima’s new data mining program is in place, and things are settling down in Moscow.
It finally gave me the chance to pick up a burner phone and call my mom, who still wouldn’t tell me where she is. I felt a little guilty breaking my promise to only go straight to class and home and hiding the phone and the conversation from him, but my mom was still full of suspicions about Maxim’s intentions, which made me wary.
Am I still in danger? Or is the only real danger from him? I don’t really believe it, but I don’t want to be foolish, either. I read every Agatha Christie book as a child. I know large sums of money make people untrustworthy.
“Not this time,” I say. It’s not just my promise to Maxim. It’s that the chef was going to cook a nice meal, and we were all going to eat together tonight. And as much as I want to make new friends, especially actors, I’d rather get to know and hang out with my new family.
I walk to the parking lot next to where my class is held. No valet nearby, unfortunately. Parking the Lamborghini in an unattended lot made me nervous, and I'm so relieved to see it's still there.