Page 46 of Doctored Vows

My back bends when one of his hands slips beneath my bikini and he squeezes and caresses my breast.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to turn you down?” He takes his anger out on my nipple, tweaking and twisting it into a hard bud. “I had to sleep on a fucking armchair while my wife was naked in my bed.”

The way he growls “my wife” has my legs scissoring and pleasure crushing through me, making me hot.

He runs his nose down the throb in my throat before saying on a moan, “I almost buckled when you moaned my name in your sleep.”

There’s no deceit in his tone, no dishonesty, but I still look up at him like I don’t believe him.

The need in his eyes drives me wild. I whimper, unashamed to display I’m desperate for any morsel of affection he’s willing to give me. I’ve craved this man from the moment I met him, and for the first time since the “shower incident,” he’s not staring at me like he should hate himself for wanting the same.

He wants this as badly as I do.

“Please,” I beg, speaking through the pulse in my throat.

The sunscreen my skin has yet to absorb smears his business clothes when he tugs me back while asking, “Tell me what you want, Doc. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“You.” I breathe out a moan, arching up when his hand slithers down my stomach. “Everywhere.”

I balance my head on his shoulder and snap my eyes shut when the sunscreen on his fingers adds to the dampness between my legs. It acts as lubricant when he stuffs two fingers inside me before he stimulates my aching clit with his palm.

The pounding in my head is gone. My hangover no longer exists. I feel nothing but jolts of electricity coursing through me as he brings me to the peak of climax.

“Do you like that, Doc? My fingers in you? My cock braced against your back?” His thumb gets in on the action, flicking and circling my clit. “You’re going to look so good filled with my cock.”

His words cause my heart to pound, and they rush my orgasm to the surface quicker than I can force it down. My thighs tremble as I fight to hold it back, but their shudders only make Maksim work harder.

He spreads my legs wider and gently tilts my hips, opening me for him, before he strokes, twangs, and finger fucks me until stars ignite and my skin slicks with sweat.

“Give it to me,” he demands, like he’s as desperate for me to come as I am.

No man has ever put me first.

No man has ever placed my needs before his.

No man has ever made me feel so desired.

So instead of clamming up like I should, I sink into him deeper before twisting up to align our lips.

With one hand down my bikini bottoms and the other curled around my throat, Maksim kisses me with a hunger I’ve never experienced. He duels our tongues and bites my lips before he speaks over my now-bruised mouth. “Make my fingers sticky, Doc. Smear them with my wife’s cum.”

I break.

With the cry of a woman who has forgotten she is in public, I grip the edges of the sunlounge and come. My orgasm is so uncontrollable I scream loudly.

So loud my best friend races into the cabana with the speed of a bullet being fired from a gun.

“Fuck.” I assume Maksim’s cuss is in response to Zoya interrupting us, but I am proven wrong when it is quickly chased by him demanding Zoya take me back to our suite as if I am a teenager sneaking in hours past curfew.

“But—”

“Now, Nikita!”

His roar is commanding enough that I jump up from my seat, snatch up my belongings, and race for the exit so fast I almost knock over Zoya on my way past.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Zoya’s eyes narrow into thin slits when I mutter, “It’s my fault. He asked me to pretend to be his wife, not a hussy who opens her legs after the slightest bit of attention. I should have never let him touch me like that in public.”

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