I shake and stutter and drool for a long half-minute.
When it’s finally over, Matvei eases his fingers out of me with the same careful slowness he put them in with. For a split second, I’m stupid enough to believe that that’ll be the end of it.
All I needed was a little taste. Enough to tide me over. Enough to send him back out the curtain and me back to my fucked-up dumpster fire of a life.
Wrong.
Dead wrong.
The second his hand leaves me, I want it back.
I want more of it.
I wantallof it.
My whole body feels like a struck tuning fork, still humming. Heat pulses between my legs where his fingers were, and instead of fading, it’s getting louder.
I crane my neck past his shoulder toward a thin gap in the curtain. No shadows moving out there. No footsteps. It’s quietand dark, broken only by the occasional cough or beep of a machine.
Fuck it.
I reach over and flatten my palm over the front of his pants.
He’s so hard it feels unfair, like maybe I should apologize to him on behalf of all the world’s zippers.Sorry that YKK’s finest isn’t enough to contain you.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth. His hips jerk forward into my hand before he can stop himself. His eyes close for a second. When they open again, they’ve gone almost black.
“You’re going to get us caught,” he warns.
“Probably.”
He tilts his head to look at me. “Can you be quiet?”
I consider the question honestly. Then I remember the sounds I made when his fingers first pushed inside me and the ones I made when he took them out. On a good day, I’m a woman who cannot keep her mouth shut about anything—and today is definitely not a good day.
“Probably not,” I admit.
He huffs a laugh. Then he straightens up just enough to pull a black, rolled-up tie out from his jacket pocket. “Open,” he orders.
“Matvei—”
“I saidopen your fucking mouth,dikarka.”
I do as he says.
He feeds it between my teeth as if it’s a horse bit. The silk tastes like he smells: woodsy, dark, cool, male.
“That’s perfect,” he says, pleased with himself. “Now, bite down if you need to. But remember the one rule: Don’t you dare make a noise.”
I bite down experimentally. The silk gives between my teeth in the most satisfying way.
“Good girl,” he whispers, and this time, I don’t tell him not to say it. I just whimper around the gag and reach for him again.
He lets me fumble at his belt for about three seconds before he gets impatient and does it himself, one-handed. The other hand is back under my gown, two fingers pushed deep, working me open while he flicks his buckle loose and pops the button of his slacks.
I make a needy whine around the silk.
“Shh.” He presses his mouth to the unbruised side of my face. “None of that. You want the whole hospital to know you’re about to get fucked behind a curtain?”