“Can I record you saying that for my family? Or better yet, you tell them yourself, we’ll pretend it’s unplanned.”
“Of course,” he says, though his eyes are on my mouth, like mine are on his. I’ve been fighting this, the desire to kiss my own husband again, but sitting here now, the reasoning behind the resolve becomes flimsier. “Marianna?—”
I seal my lips to his before he can say something too sappy and serious, and he groans into my mouth, his hands are quick to go to my waist, pulling me against his chest. I deepen the kiss, pressing my tongue into his mouth and he meets me beat for beat.
“Fuck, you’re?—”
“Shh,” I mutter as I climb onto his lap. I need him to stop with the niceties, the praise, the hints that he cares for me at all—he needs to remember that this is sex, a loveless marriage, an arrangement, nothing more. I straddle his waist, my dress bunching at my hips as I roll my front flush against his.
His hands are roaming and his kisses feverish, no ounce of his usual composure present. He is so effortlessly undone by want, I wonder if he’s like this with all of his lovers. I selfishly hope he isn’t.
His hands stop on my ass, squeezing as he moves my hips over the hard ridge in his pants. Both of us exhaling as he does.
“You’re not real.”
“Careful,” I warn, groaning as I grind again on him. “You’re starting to sound like you like me.”
“I do.” He bites my lower lip hard enough that I know it’ll be plump for the rest of the evening. “You’re pretty.”
I help him undo his belt and pants, pulling his cock free while he tugs my dress further up my hips until my satin thong is exposed.
He groans something in Russian at the sight, and slides two fingers over the damp center, startling a gasp out of me. He pulls the fabric to the side and wastes no time pushing those two fingers into me and pumping twice. “Are you always this way? So wet and ready for me?”
“Yes,” I say before I can even think to lie or withhold that truth. Maxim hums at the admission and sucks the fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. I can only watch the movement, limbs useless.
“Unbelievable.”
I flush further, heat spreading over my whole chest now. I am losing control rapidly, beginning to wonder if I ever had any to begin with.
I swallow, steadying myself somewhat, and line myself up over his dick. His hands are so wide on my hips, hot like a brand on my exposed back. The tip of him presses barely into me, and then I halt my movement. He pants, his brows lowering in confusion at my sudden stillness.
“You’re getting too attached,” I say. “I have to remind you that we’re just pretending.”
Maxim shakes his head, my words not fazing him. He slides the thin strap of my dress down my arm until one of my breasts is exposed to him and he presses open mouth kisses all over it. I grip his hair and pull before he can suck my nipple into his mouth, all too aware that doing so would make me forget what I need to tell him.
He whines in protest, but meets my eyes. His hips thrust lightly beneath me, but I sit higher to keep him from sinking further in.
“I can never love you,” I say. I intend the reminder to be a gentle one, but I’m so horny and feverish for him, my hips rolling on their own accord that I sound more intense and angry than I meant to. “I don’t want you getting hurt forgetting this.”
His face changes, mouth closing, that vein in his wide jaw twitching as his eyes narrow. If he’s hurt, I can’t let myself worry about it. It’s better if I redraw this line in the sand, remind him of my promise.
“I know,” he says. “And while it’s so considerate of you to care about my feelings, may I remind you that you aremy wife.I have the papers to prove it, nothingpretendabout it.”
Bastard. I tug his hair harder, pulling his head back and kneeling above him to look down at his mouth. “I need you to say it, Maxim. Tell me you’ll never love me.”
“I never agreed to that.” My mask must slip for just a moment because he smirks, as if he’s the one in control here, the one grippingmyhair forcingmygaze to his. “You can pretend all you’d like, but if I want to love my wife, I will.”
“Even if she’ll never return your affections?”
One of his big hands snakes around my back until his arm is wrapped entirely around me. With one move, one single thrust, he flexes his hips up and pulls me onto his full length, makingme yelp and moan. My eyes close when I mean for them to be staring sternly at him. It brings our mouths practically together, him breathing into mine.
“Up to me to decide,” he says.
He keeps a steady, intense pace, thrusting into me from below while I hold onto his shoulder and hair for dear life, both of us breathing heavily against the other’s mouth.
“My wife is difficult,” he says, and I want to talk back, say she mustn’t be so bad if his erection is any indicator, but I can only get out these breathy moans. “She is stubborn, and ruthless, and so fucking reckless sometimes it drives me insane.”
“Yeah?” I ask, but it sounds much more like I’m spurning him to continue. The car drives on, but it must be shaking from the intense fucking happening in the back. Maybe limos are made for such activities.
