Page 31 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

He grinds through the last of it, pressing his forehead to mine, breathing hard as we both ride the lingering tremors.

Rashid stays buried inside me for a long moment, his breathing ragged against my neck as the last pulses of his release fade.

Slowly, he pulls out, leaving a warm trickle of his seed down my thigh.

I feel raw and used, but strangely empty all at once.

My hands shake as I sit up, searching blindly for my jeans and ruined panties.

The torn lace is useless; I shove it into my coat pocket with trembling fingers.

He tucks himself away and zips up, watching me with hooded, satisfied eyes. “Emory,” he says softly. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. We can catch up properly. I want to hear everything you’ve been doing these past three years. Where you’ve been, what you’ve dreamed about. Let me spoil you the way you deserve.”

My stomach twists violently. The thought of telling him anything real—about Lex, about Batya’s world, about the secrets I carry—makes bile rise in my throat.

I could never speak those truths aloud to a man like Rashid Krasnov.

One slip and everything would crumble.

I force a small, tired smile while buttoning my jeans, avoiding his gaze. “That’s sweet, Rashid. Really—but I can’t. My life is… complicated right now. I’m not in a place where I can do this.”

He reaches for my hand, but I pull away gently, smoothing my sweater down. “Please. Just one dinner. No pressure.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, already reaching for the door handle as I tuck the velvet box into my coat pocket. “I can’t. Thank you for the ride. And for… everything.” The words taste like ash, and I slip out of the car on unsteady legs, the cold night air shocking against my flushed skin.

My coat hangs open, hair a mess, thighs still sticky.

And I stand on the sidewalk with my arms wrapped around myself and watch as the sleek black car pulls away from the curb.

Its taillights glow red in the distance, growing smaller until they disappear around the corner.

Only then do I let out a hard breath and a wave of nausea rolls through me. What the hell have I done?

I turn toward Irina’s building, praying silently that Rashid will let this go.

That he won’t dig.

That Batya will get us out of town soon like he promised. Because if he doesn’t, none of this disappears. It only gets worse.

10

RASHID

I sit motionless in the warm leather seat, watching through the side mirror as Emory hurries down the sidewalk.

My cum is still leaking down her thighs and her lips are still swollen from my mouth. Yet she walked away from me like I'm nothing. The rejection burns like acid in my veins.

Rain starts falling harder, drumming against the roof, and it's perfect cover for what I'm about to do.

“Stop here,” I tell my driver as he rounds the corner. “Keep the engine running. Do not move until I say.”

He meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “Yes, sir.”

I step out into the downpour, closing the door against the rain, and pursue her again.

This time at a run.

Cold rain instantly soaks my shirt, but the fire in my blood keeps me warm.