Page 63 of Beautiful Cruelty

My body instinctively clenches around the intrusion, and I bite my lip to hold back a moan.

Oh my God, what am I doing?

My heart pounds in my chest, and my breath comes out in short, shallow pants. I didn't realize how completely, absolutelysoakedI was. His finger pushes deeper inside of me, the sensation almost overwhelming. I feel my cheeks heat up as a gasp spill out from my lips.

I should stop. I should tell him to stop.

But I don't want to. I want him to do more. I want to feel his mouth on my neck, and his hands on my breasts. I want him to push me against the seat, force my legs apart, and shove his cock inside me. I want to feel the weight of his body crushing mine, and feel him thrusting in time with the beat of my heart.

I can't help but rock my hips, moving with his finger as it slides in and out. I'm so close to the edge, and I know if I let myself go, I'll shatter into a million pieces.

I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't want this.

But I do. I want him. I want all of him. And in this moment, I don't care about the consequences.

I reach instinctively for his belt buckle, my fingers trembling with need as I work the leather free from the buckle.

"Still trying to be convincing?" His voice is rough, strained. "There's no one watching us here."

"Good." I press open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, feeling his pulse race beneath my lips. "Because what I'm about to do to you?" My hand slides lower as his picks up the pace inside me, feeling him hard beneath his tailored pants. "I don't want anyone else to see."

He inhales sharply as I palm him through the fabric. His hips buck involuntarily against my touch. My eyes widen at how thick he feels in my hand.

Hedoeshave a huge cock.

"Just you and me," I whisper against his throat. "No audience. No pretending."

His other hand grips my waist, pushing me deeper into the seat until I'm practically pinned there. The new position makes my dress ride up even higher, and I feel the heat of him growing thicker in my hand through the fabric of his pants.

"Zvyozdochka," he growls, the word sending shivers down my spine as I start to unzip his pants. "You're playing with fire."

"Maybe I want to get burned."

The car door suddenly swings open and I yelp, yanking my hands back like I've touched a hot stove. My heart hammers against my ribs as cool morning air rushes in.

Vadim barks something in Russian, his voice sharp and dangerous. Though I can't understand the words, the tone makes me shrink deeper into the leather seat—not from fear, but from embarrassment. Through the open door, I catch a glimpse of his driver's face.

That easy smile now carries a knowing edge that makes my cheeks burn even hotter.

Oh God. He definitely knows what we were doing.

Vadim steps out of the car, straightening his tie with practiced motions before walking around to my side. My hands shake as I try to smooth my dress back down over my thighs, painfully aware of how wet my panties are and how disheveled I must look.

When Vadim opens my door, I keep my eyes fixed firmly on my lap. I can't bring myself to look at either of them right now. Not when just moments ago I was fully ready to jerk him off in the back of his car.

No,I correct myself.I was fully ready tofuckhim.

The memory of how thick he felt in my hand makes my face flame even hotter.

"Your crutches," Vadim says, holding them out to me.

I take them without meeting his eyes, and use them to leverage myself out of the car. My legs feel wobbly, and not just from my injured ankle.

The chime of bells announces our entrance as Vadim holds open the door.

His hand rests on my lower back, steadying me over the threshold and into the gleaming interior. My face heats up again from his touch, and I focus on putting one crutch in front of the other across the polished marble floor and not on where his finger was and what we almost did.

And in that moment, two things become absolutely clear.

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