Chapter 20
Ayla
Maksim Korsakov’s tongue is otherworldly, but he isnotfucking me.
Hell no.
“No,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the fact that my legs are still shaking from what he just did to me.
His eyes darken. “No?”
“You heard me.” I try to wriggle my wrists free from his grip. No luck. “That was... that was good. But we’re not—”
“Not what?” His hips grind against me again, and I feel exactly how hard he is through his sweatpants. “Not fucking?”
My breath catches. My body is screaming yes, yes,yes,but my brain, the part that’s kept me alive this long, knows better.
Gabriel wanted this. Told me to let Maksim use my body, get intel.
No.
“I don’t like you enough to let you fuck me,” I manage to get out despite the feel of his cock insistent between my legs through fabric.
His grip on my wrists loosens slightly. “Not yet?”
I take advantage of the shift and twist free, rolling out from under him. My ribs protest the movement, sharp and insistent, but I ignore it. I slip off the bed, swipe my shorts off the floor and tug them on.
Maksim sits up, running a hand through his hair. It’s disheveled from where I grabbed it, red strands sticking up at odd angles. His eyes trail my body in a different way now. In a way I hate because that feral smirk isn’t terrifying anymore it’s hot.
No.
Maksim Korsakov is not hot.
He licks his lips and his eyes flash.
“You taste good.”
My stomach drops. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what? Don’t say that?” he arches a brow. “Why not? It’s true. And I’m gonna do it again.”
I scoff. “No, that isneverhappening again.”
“Yes is it and next time I’m sliding my cock deep inside that tight cunt and you’re going to love it, you’re going to make those soft sweet whimpers that I never expected to come out of that filth ridden mouth.”
His eyes track mine. My breaths can’t catch up with the heat coiling through me.
“I’m showering,” I mutter walking away.
“Take a cold one, Beda!” he teases after me, a dark chuckle escaping those devilish lips.
The water runs long enough to sting.
I stand under it until my skin goes pink and my pulse stops racing in my ears. I scrub like I’m erasing evidence. Like if I press hard enough, the memory of his mouth will dissolve and run down the drain.
It doesn’t.
My body is still warm. Still buzzing. Still traitorous.
