Page 66 of Doctored Vows

“Because…?” He leaves his question open for me to answer how I see fit.

“Because that’s the norm in the Bratva. The men cheat, lie, and steal, and the women?—”

“Are worshipped like gods,” he interrupts, his tone stern.

“Not in any of the stories I’ve read.”

“Because they were fictional.” He nods his head to a man standing guard at the end of the hall, dismissing him from his watch before he enters an apartment on our right. “It is far different in real life.” His next set of words are barely whispers. “Well, they will be.”

I try to respond to his murmured comment but lose the chance to do anything but gawp when we enter the opulent apartment. There’s hardly any difference from the penthouse, except the room sizes are halved, and the furniture appears more modern since it isn’t decorated with ornaments my grandmother should have thrown away in her forties.

“Maksim, this place is…” I almost say too much. Too expensive. Too worthy. But I settle on, “It’s beautiful.” As quickly as my praise leaves my mouth, guilt smacks into me. “But we don’t need to stay here. My grandparents’ apartment downstairs is?—”

“A rat-infested dump.”

“There are no rats. The building supervisor had exterminators come in every three months as per our rental agreement.”

My lips twitch when he murmurs, “You’re still a shit liar, Doc,” but I refuse to smile. He’s right. My grandparents’ old apartment is a rat-infested dump full of germs and mold, and God knows what else, but it was also home.

As we enter the main bedroom, Maksim toes off his shoes before making a beeline for the bed. “We will shower in the morning. I’m fucking beat.” When an unexpected groan rolls up my chest, I pray for light to break through the drapes covering the floor-to-roof window. “Don’t worry. You’ll be taken care of first. I have no intention to sleep until you’ve screamed my name at least twice.”

He tosses me onto the mattress like he counted the steps from the door of our room to the bed before he hooks my ankle and drags me down until my ass dangles near the edge.

“Jesus… Christ…” I push out between big breaths when his mouth lands on my pussy with the accuracy of a missile.

“Making you go without panties was a shit move on my behalf,” he murmurs against my clit, stimulating it more with his raspy tone. “I sat through a meeting with my dick pressed against my zipper.”

He’s devouring me like I’m the most delicious dessert he’s ever tasted, yet jealousy still sneaks through the cracks. “Were there any women in attendance at your meeting?”

“Doc…” He pauses like he needs a minute to fully absorb my jealousy before he sucks, licks, and toys with my clit until nothing but the thrill of the chase is on my mind. “I fuckin’ love when you get jealous.”

“I’d have no reason to get jealous if you gave me a straight answer.”

You have no idea how hard it is to talk. Every word I speak is forced through trembling thighs and moans loud enough to wake the dead. Maksim doesn’t get angry when questioned. He gets hungry—and the only feast he wants to consume is me.

“You said you’d come back in an hour. You were gone for”—I stray my eyes to the clock on a remote that looks like it could land a jumbo jet—“three hours.”

Three hours? Who the hell has a meeting for three hours at this time of night?

Before I can demand answers, Maksim says between licks, “It took longer than planned, but believe me, you were on my mind the entire time.”

Pleasure hums through me, but it won’t stop my interrogation. “Who… were… you… with?”

“Mm,” Maksim moans against my clit, almost causing me to unravel. “I can taste myself in you.” He stabs his tongue inside me, then does a long lick before saying with a moan, “I bet you’ll be able to taste yourself on my cock too.” He looks at me over the swell of my breasts, our eyes locking since they’ve adjusted to the dark conditions. “Do you want to check, Doc? Or can I return to the only dessert I’ll ever select on any menu handed to me?”

His reply appeases my worry, but I wouldn’t be me if I gave in without a little bit of sassiness. “What if it is one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that don’t hand out menus?”

He backhands my clit, sending a fiery warmth across my midsection. “They don’t have any desserts this tasty.” His mouth is back on me in an instant, and I’m steamrolling toward release.

“Oh god…”

“Close,” Maksim murmurs against my clit. “But we can do better than that.”

He slips two fingers inside me and curls them at the end, milking me in rhythm to the flicks he does to my clit.

I grind against him, desperate for more friction.

My bucks drive him wild. He fucks me with his mouth faster, stretching the sensation making me a shaky, sticky mess.

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