Page 101 of Porcelain Lies

“Yes! God, yes!” I cry out, my inner walls fluttering around him as my release crashes over me. “Aleksei!”

The sound of my own voice jerks me from sleep.

Shit!

What the hell?

I press my hands to my burning cheeks, trying to shake off the lingering sensations. My body still thrums with unfulfilled desire, making me acutely aware of the empty bed around me.

God.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Stels?

I squeeze my eyes shut. This is insane. It’s bad enough that I’m locked in this luxurious prison. But now, I’m obsessing about the man who’s imprisoned me.

I slump back onto the pillows, fighting back tears. I don’t know what’s worse. Knowing that I’m trapped here.

Or knowing that I still want him.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Aleksei

“Aleksei!”

My name… called out in a hoarse moan. Stella shifts, her fingers curling against the sheets as if reaching for me. Her breath quickens, catching in her throat.

I lean closer to the screen, watching her unconscious form. On the bed, her body arches softly, hands moving over herself. The sheets slip away, baring her skin.

She moans again, hips lifting, thighs parting in silent invitation. I burn to join her, to taste that soft skin, to hear my name from her lips when she’s awake and aware.

But she doesn’t know I’m here, doesn’t know I’m watching. This is wrong. An invasion. I know it, even as my thumb hovers over the screen, zooming in to focus on her parted lips, the swell of her breasts. My body tightens in response, my need urgent and visceral.

I’m painfully aware of my own bed, waiting in the room beyond. Of the many ways I could satisfy this ache. My hands on my own flesh, just as she touches herself.

But the idea of release without her — it doesn’t sit right. I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to touch myself as I watch her dream.

Her eyelids flutter, her breath quickening. Her fingers dip between her thighs, shy at first, then more certain. I think of how unaware she is that I’m witnessing this private moment. That she’s sharing this with me, even in her sleep.

She whimpers, her breath shuddering as her fingers find purchase. My own breath hitches in response, my body thrumming with need. On the screen, she’s oblivious, lost in her pleasure. It’s just her and her touch.

And me, always me. The shadows in the room hide me, but she senses my presence, even in sleep. She moves against her own hand as if it’s mine, as if she can feel me watching.

Her fingers quicken, her breath coming in harsh pants. Her thighs part further, offering herself up.

“Yes. God, yes!” she moans. Her skin flushes, her lips part, and her eyes squeeze shut as she peaks. “Aleksei!” the cry is rough. I feel her release like it’s my own, my name torn from her lips. It vibrates through me, and I close my eyes, letting the sound ripple through me.

Slowly, I open my eyes. She’s half sitting now, looking around her. I stiffen.

Blyad!

Can she sense me?

Don’t be ridiculous. Not possible.

Stella sinks back onto the bed, her brow furrowed. She lies still, chest rising and falling in the aftermath. Her hair fans across the pillow, dark against the silk, and her lips part slightly as she exhales.

It takes everything I have not to go to her. To walk through the manor, down the hallways, and into her room. To claim what she unknowingly offered in her sleep.

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