Page 22 of Baby for My Ex's Brother

The door opens behind me. He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t need to.

I turn. He’s holding my panties in one hand. His nearly black eyes are darker than they were at the table in the dim light.The door clicks shut behind him. The sound is loud in the small space.

“Turn around,” he growls.

I do. My hands find the edge of the sink. Porcelain. Cold. I can smell him now, that clean scent, something expensive and subtle underneath. His breath is warm against my neck, his body hot and hard against my backside.

But more than any of that, I see me. My expression in the mirror that hangs over the sink.

I look hungry.

His breath falls hot on my earlobe. “Open your mouth. I have to keep you quiet, or they’ll hear you.”

“The lock?—”

The moment my lips open, he uses the panties to gag me. Not rough, but not gentle. The fabric tastes like me. He purposefully dangles a bit of the nude lace out of my mouth as he stares at me in the mirror. “There. Now you’re perfect. And if I wanted the door locked, I would have locked it.”

His hands find my hips and push my dress up over my ass. The cool air chills me there before he spanks me, and I grunt against the lace. His hand swipes over my pussy from behind, then he’s suddenly inside me, and I’m biting down on silk and trying not to scream.

So fucking full. So fucking good.

He rambles in Russian—or what I think is Russian—behind me. No translation needed. I know the tone of pure filth. This is sofucked up, and there’s not enough money in the world to make me stop.

The mirror is in front of me, and I can see us, his face buried in my neck, my eyes wide and dark and rolling back when he digs deep into me and stays there. It’s too intense.

“I feel you twitching on me, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re so close.”

I nod. I can’t speak around my underwear.

“Do you want to come?”

“Mm, hmm.”

Half his masculine smirk is visible in the mirror from this angle. He thrusts somehow deeper, making me jump. “Perhaps I shouldn’t let you. Gives you an incentive to stay over.”

My whimper comes out in broken bits, shattered by his thrusting.

He bites my earlobe. Hard enough to make me wince and shudder on his cock. “But you’ve been so good tonight. You’ve earned it.” On his last word, he begins an onslaught of my body, slamming deep, hitting my rhythm so hard I might die.

It’s fast, but not fast enough. He cups a hand over my clit, mashing in time with his thrusts. It’s not three more before my vision goes white, and I’m screaming on my underwear as the climax crashes into me. His hand latches over my mouth, the panties between his palm and my teeth, his breath hot against my ear. He follows a moment later, groaning low and private against my skin.

We stay like that for a moment. Connected. Breathing. Soaked. Then he pulls out, wipes me clean, adjusts my dress, and removes the gag with surprising gentleness.

His thumb traces my lower lip. “You’re extraordinary. You know that?”

I don’t answer. I don’t know how. What are words again?

8

IVAN

Outside,the city is doing its early morning thing—a truck somewhere, pigeons on the ledge, the distant pulse of a world that doesn’t know or care what happens in my bed. I’m about to ease out from under her arm when she shifts.

Her hand finds my chest. “Stay,” she murmurs, barely conscious, the word loose and blurred with sleep.

I stay.

She comes awake slowly, the way she does everything—unhurried, unbothered, as if the world will wait for her and she knows it. Her mouth finds the back of my neck first, just a press of lips, warm and deliberate. Her hand slides down my stomach, and I catch her wrist.