Another gust of wind. My nipples tightened further and I shivered against the railing.
He peeled the lace of my underwear to one side, baring my pussy.
“Let’s leave these on. I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill,” he mused, nestling his cock between my cheeks.
“I didn’t hit you hard enough,” I muttered, as another uncontrollable shiver worked its way down my spine.
He leaned over me and I was instantly grateful for the heat of him—his chest against my back, his suited arms bracketing me, the warmth cutting through the cold air that had been finding every exposed inch of skin.
His hands moved from my hips, warm palms sliding over my ribs before settling over my breasts. I moaned and pushed back against him, telling myself it was entirely for the warmth. Nothing else.
“Barely touched you and I can already feel your pussy weeping for me,” he murmured beside my ear.
My response was to rock my ass and pussy along the length of his cock, dragging myself against him, my bare skin grazing the expensive fabric of his trousers. His fingers tightened over my breasts. Then they edged downward until he reached my nipples.
Distant voices.
My eyes snapped open.
“Someone’s coming,” I gasped, trying to straighten up, but his fingers clamped down on my nipples before I could move.
“Ah-ah,” he hummed.“You don’t move. Let them see their Pakhan fuck his wife.”
I held very still and listened. The voices grew closer, carried on the spring air—men talking, unhurried, doing their rounds. I still couldn’t see anyone below. But I could hear them.
Vadim released my aching nipples.
The heavy weight of his cock landed between my cheeks, parting me slowly before he pushed inside. One hand locked on my hip. The other tangled into my hair and hauled my head up, arching my back, my hands the only thing keeping me anchored to the cold stone railing.
He drew back lazily before driving into me with a vicious thrust.
I cried out and clamped my lips together immediately. Too loud. Too much.
I began to pant as he started to swing his hips — driving deeper, harder, the cold air hitting my chest with every forward rock of my body against the railing.
Then I saw them.
Two heads below.
Radovan and Tau.
Radovan was pointing along the garden path, gesturing toward something in the grounds, entirely absorbed in the tour. They walked along the thawing path at an unhurried pace, breath misting in the spring air.
Vadim must have noticed too—because the bastard began to move faster.
His hand slipped from my hip and pushed beneath my underwear.
“Mudak,” I whispered, just as his fingers found my clit and began to circle.
As if he heard me, Tau turned.
His dark eyes found mine without effort—no scanning, no searching, just the immediate lock of a man whose awareness operated on a different level to everyone else’s. His gaze dropped lower, taking in exactly what was happening, just as Vadim thrust into me and knocked the air from my lungs.
Vadim must have seen him too.
Because he began to hammer into me—relentless, deliberate, each stroke driving my body forward against the railing, my breasts jerking with the impact, the cold stone biting into my palms.
I tried to lower my head.
