12. Veronica
12
VERONICA
T he noise of the ballroom fades as the heavy door clicks shut behind us. The dimly lit room is a welcome relief after the noise of the party.
The muffled hum of laughter and clinking glasses is barely audible through the thick walls. Maxim’s hand is still on my lower back, guiding me forward.
“What are we doing in here?” I ask, my voice sharp as I twist to look at him. “Hiding from your fan club?”
His eyes darken, and the faintest hint of a smirk curves his lips. “Making sure everyone believes this engagement is real,” he says, his tone serious. He steps closer, his presence consuming the already small space. “A man like me would fuck his bride to be on a night like this.”
“That a Bratva tradition? Fucking at the engagement party?”
“Yes.”
I raise an eyebrow, folding my arms. “Oh, is this the part where we practice our Oscar-worthy performance? You want me to start screaming your name now or wait for the dramatic finale? ‘Oh, Maxim, it’s the smallest one I’ve ever seen. Shove your teeny weenie in my slut box.’ No, I’ve got a better one. ‘Don’t worry, it happens to every man at some point. It’s no big deal, sweetie pie.’”
He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Don’t tempt me to shut you up by putting something in your mouth.”
The air shifts, thickening with something heavy and unspoken. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and my heart pounds, each beat louder than the last.
I try to play it off, rolling my eyes as I step back, but the wall behind me puts an abrupt end to my retreat.
“Let’s get something straight,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the way he’s looking at me, like a lion sizing up a lame sheep. “You’re not exactly a star actor. I doubt you could fake it well enough to convince anyone.”
His hand comes to rest on my waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of my dress in a way that makes my breath hitch. “Oh, I can be very convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto mine. “But you? I’m not so sure. I don’t think you could fake passion if your life depended on it.”
“Is that so?” I counter, my tone sharper now. “I could fake it better than you any day.”
His laugh is rough, sending a shiver down my spine. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“It is,” I shoot back before I can think better of it. I let out a loud moan, as if he’s slipping inside me.
He steps closer, his hand sliding around to the small of my back, pulling me against him. The heat of his body is overwhelming, and I can feel the strength in every inch of him. “That the best you can do?”
I narrow my eyes at him, refusing to let him see how much he’s affecting me. “Fine,” I say, lifting my chin. “But don’t cry when I steal the show.”
His lips curve into a wicked smile, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. “Go ahead,” he says softly, his voice dripping with challenge. “Show me what you’ve got.”
The words are barely out of his mouth before I grab his tie, yanking him down toward me. My lips hover inches from his, and I can feel his breath against my skin, warm and intoxicating.
“You asked for it,” I murmur, before closing the gap. My mouth is an inch away from his lips as I let out a deep sigh. “Oh, that’s so good,” I say loudly. “Fuck me, Maxim. Give it to me hard. Come inside me.” I plant a soft kiss on his lips. “How was that?” I ask.
The kiss started as a taunt, a way to prove a point, but it shifts immediately. His mouth slams against mine with a hunger that takes me by surprise.
I gasp, giving him the opening he needs to deepen the kiss. His hand tightens on my waist, the other sliding up to cup the back of my neck, tilting my head to give him better access.
The room feels like it’s spinning, and I clutch at his jacket to steady myself. The kiss is fiery, desperate, and nothing like I expected. It’s not fake, not even close. And what terrifies me is just how good it feels.
He breaks away first, his breathing heavy, his forehead resting against mine. “Still think you’re the better actor?” he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with something I can’t quite name. “How real was that?”
I force myself to meet his gaze, even though my heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of my chest. “Totally fake,” I say, my voice breathless. “I didn’t feel a thing. Told you. You can’t act for shit.”
A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face, and I know I’ve just poked a tiger. “I see,” he says, stepping back just enough to give me space to breathe. “Let’s give them something real to talk about, shall we?”
Before I can respond, he leans in again, this time pressing his lips to my neck. The sensation is electric, sending a jolt straight through me. He nibbles lightly, just enough to leave a mark, and I let out a moan, my hands fisting in his jacket.
“Maxim,” I whisper.
He pulls back, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “You want this to work?” he asks, his voice rough. “Then stop pretending.”
I push him back, needing space to think, to breathe. “What the hell are we doing?” I ask, my voice shaky.
He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze never leaving mine. When he finally speaks, his voice is firm. “Acting.”
The bass from the music outside thuds faintly through the walls of the side room, a steady rhythm that matches the flutter in my chest.
His cologne—something dark and expensive—wraps around me, and I can’t help but inhale deeply, my pulse quickening.
“This has to look convincing,” he murmurs, his voice low, gravelly, and tinged with that Russian accent that always sends a shiver down my spine. His eyes lock onto mine, and there’s something in them that makes my stomach tighten.
“No one’s watching,” I breathe, though my voice feels too light, too shaky. This was supposed to be an act, a performance for the guests outside. A few moans, some heavy breathing, maybe a slammed hand against the wall for effect. But now his gaze is searing into me, and I feel like I’m unraveling under it.
His lips are inches from mine, and I swear I can feel the heat of his breath as he leans closer. “I am,” he says, his tone sharp, commanding.
His mouth presses into mine and, oh God, it’s so good. This kiss isn’t soft or tentative; it’s demanding, consuming, like he’s determined to claim every inch of me.
His tongue invades my mouth, deep and deliberate, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes me. My hands fly up instinctively, clutching at his broad shoulders, the fabric of his suit smooth under my fingers.
He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me, and suddenly one of his hands leaves the wall to grip my hip, pulling me flush against him. I gasp into his mouth, feeling the hard press of his body against mine, and my legs nearly give out.
“You’re shaking,” he says, breaking the kiss just long enough to speak, his lips brushing against mine as he does. His voice is amused, but there’s an edge to it that makes my knees weak. “Never done this before?”
“I’m fine,” I say, though my voice betrays me, trembling just like the rest of me. “Just acting.”
He smirks, a faint tilt of his lips that’s equal parts dangerous and irresistible. “Liar.” Then his mouth is on mine again, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.
I melt into him, my mind spinning, my body arching toward his without thought. One of his hands slides up my side, skimming over the curve of my ribs, and I shudder.
The dress I’m wearing—tight, crimson, and far too revealing for a proper engagement party—feels like it’s suffocating me.
Every brush of my skin against the fabric is electric, and when his fingers find the zipper at my back, I whimper in relief. He tugs it down slowly, deliberately, his lips still moving against mine, and the cool air hits my bare skin, making me gasp.
“Maxim—” I start, but he cuts me off with another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my head spin.
His hands slide under the straps of my dress, pushing it down my shoulders until it pools at my feet, leaving me standing in nothing but my heels and a matching red lace set that feels like it might combust under his gaze.
He steps back just enough to take me in, his eyes darkening as they roam over my body. “Fuck,” he mutters, and the raw intensity in his voice sends a bolt of heat straight to my core.
His hands reach for me again, cupping my breasts roughly, his thumbs brushing over my already-hard nipples through the thin lace of my bra. I bite my lip to stifle a moan, but it doesn’t work.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and the words go straight to my head, making me dizzy. “Be loud. Let them hear.” He unhooks my bra with practiced ease, tossing it aside before his mouth descends on one breast, his tongue circling my nipple before sucking it into the heat of his mouth.
I cry out, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as pleasure arcs through me.
His other hand trails lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties, and I tense in anticipation.
When his fingers brush against me, finding me already wet, he lets out a low groan against my skin. “So eager,” he says, his voice husky with approval as I push my hips his way. “But we’re not done yet.”
Before I can process his words, he drops to his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my hips to hold me steady. His breath ghosts over my inner thighs, and I tremble, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Open for me,” he commands, and I obey without hesitation, spreading my legs wider. His smirk is wicked as he looks up at me, his eyes gleaming with hunger. Then his mouth is on me, hot and insistent, and I let out a strangled cry as his tongue flicks over my clit.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, my hips rocking forward instinctively, seeking more of his touch. His hands tighten on my hips, holding me still, as he laps at me with maddening precision.
I tug at his hair, desperate for more, but he doesn’t relent, his tongue teasing me mercilessly until I’m trembling on the edge. “That is so fucking good.”
“I know,” he growls back. “Louder.”
“Please,” I beg, my voice breaking. “Maxim?—”
“Patience,” he growls against me, the vibrations sending shocks through my entire body. Then he slips a finger inside me, curling it just right, and I see stars.
My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, and I cry out his name, my legs giving out beneath me.
He catches me before I can fall, his hands steadying me as he rises to his feet. His eyes are dark with satisfaction as he watches me come apart, and I can feel myself blushing under his scrutiny.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my swollen lips.
My hands drop to his belt, fumbling with the buckle as I try to regain control of my breathing. He helps me undress him, his cock springing free, thick and hard. I lick my lips unconsciously, earning another smirk from him.
“Go on,” he says, his voice a rough command. “Show me what you can do.”
I sink to my knees in front of him, my hands gripping his hips as I take him into my mouth, savoring the taste of him.
He groans above me, his fingers threading through my hair as I work him with my tongue, my lips, my everything. I can feel him growing harder, hotter, and I pull back just as he’s about to tip over the edge.
“Veronica,” he growls, his voice warning and pleading all at once. I rise to my feet, pressing my body against his, and guide him to the edge of the table.
His hands grip my hips as I straddle him, sinking down onto him with a gasp. He fills me completely, and I lean forward, my lips brushing his ear.
“Take me,” I whisper, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.
His hands tighten on my hips like steel vices, his grip possessive as he thrusts up into me with a raw, primal force that makes my breath hitch.
My body arches instinctively, my back curving as I bounce on his cock, every movement sending sharp jolts of pleasure through my core.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by our ragged breaths and low, guttural moans. His eyes never leave mine—dark, burning, unrelenting—as he takes control again, driving deeper with each stroke.
Fuck, he feels good. So deep, so perfectly filling. My fingers dig into his broad shoulders, nails scraping lightly against his skin.
But then, without warning, his hands shift, and in one fluid motion, he flips me onto all fours. The sudden change in position sends a thrill through me, and I let out a gasp, my palms splayed flat against the cool surface beneath me.
His hand comes down sharply on my ass. The sting is immediate, delicious, and I let out a gasp, my cheeks flushing not just from the impact but from the way his dominance sparks something electric inside me.
He leans over me, his chest pressing against my back, and his hot breath fans across my ear as he shouts, “You take what I give you, Veronica. Understand?”
I nod, unable to form words, and he straightens, gripping my hips again as he resumes fucking me with a steady, punishing rhythm.
My head drops forward, hair tumbling over my shoulders as I focus on the sensation of him moving inside me, stretching me, owning me.
But I’m not content to just lie there—no, I need more. My hand slips between my legs, finding my clit with practiced ease, and I start to circle it, adding pressure where I need it most. A strangled cry escapes my lips as the dual stimulation pushes me closer to the edge.
“Da, malyshka,” he murmurs, his voice rough and approving. “Show me how much you want it.”
My entire body trembles as I lose myself in the rhythm, my thighs tightening around him as he fucks me harder, faster.
I can feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps, and I come with a cry that I barely recognize as my own.
My climax crashes over me in waves, my vision blurring as pleasure consumes me entirely. And still, Maxim doesn’t stop, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own orgasm.
“Veronica,” he grits out, his voice strained, and I know he’s close. I push back against him, meeting his movements with my own, urging him to finish.
With a groan, he buries himself deep inside me, his body stiffening as he spills into me, his warmth flooding my senses.
We stay like that for a moment, both of us trembling as we come down from the high, our breaths mingling in the heavy air.
Slowly, I stand, my legs wobbling slightly as I stand. My dress is wrinkled, my hair a mess, and my cheeks are flushed, but I don’t care.
“Think they heard?” I ask, my voice teasing as I smooth my hair back into place. “It probably sounded real enough, right?”
He chuckles darkly, his eyes raking over me with obvious approval. “If they didn’t hear you cry out when you came, they’re deaf.” He steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek as he adds, “And you look good like this—cheeks flushed, lips swollen. Mine.”
I raise an eyebrow, my smirk widening. “Yours? That confident, are we?”
He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “You came so hard for me, malyshka. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
I open my mouth to retort, but he silences me with a kiss, firm and claiming, and I melt into him, my earlier defiance fading as I succumb to his intoxicating presence.
When he finally pulls away, I’m breathless, my pulse racing as I meet his gaze. There’s a challenge there, a promise of more, and I feel a thrill run through me at the thought.
“Careful,” I murmur, my voice playful. “All this attention might go to my head.”
He smirks, his thumb grazing my lower lip. “Then I’ll just have to remind you who’s in charge again, won’t I?”
“Oh no, how awful that would be,” I reply with a wink and a grin.
The door clicks shut behind us as we step back into the ballroom, the hum of conversation and soft clinking of glasses washing over me.
Every head in the room turns our way, eyes flickering with curiosity, speculation, and just the faintest hint of envy.
Whispers ripple through the crowd, too low to catch but loud enough to prickle at my nerves. My cheeks flush, but I tilt my chin up, channeling every ounce of fake confidence I can muster. They all know what we just did.
Maxim’s grip tightens slightly, and he leans down, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “You’re doing far better than I expected.”
I glance up at him, my smirk sharp. “Better than you expected? What did you think I’d do, faint at the sight of all these mobsters?”
His lips curl into a faint smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but still manages to send a shiver down my spine. “Ivan thought you’d set something on fire by now to get out of here.”
I let out a soft laugh, though it’s mostly to cover the way my pulse is hammering in my ears. “Don’t tempt me. There’s still time.”
The playful banter doesn’t erase the heat simmering between us, but it’s enough to help me find my footing.
I glance around the room, noting the way conversations seem to pick back up, though more than a few people are still watching us out of the corners of their eyes. It’s like being on a stage, every move scrutinized, every glance dissected.
And Maxim, of course, looks completely at ease, his expression cold and unreadable. His gaze sweeps over the room, calculating, assessing, but his hold on me remains firm, protective. It’s a strange mix, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the small of my back. The touch is subtle, but it sends a spark of heat through me. “They’re not here to eat you alive.”
“Comforting,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “And here I thought this was just a casual evening with friends.”
Elena and Dmitri appear out of the crowd, their presence a welcome distraction. Elena’s eyes flick between me and Maxim, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
“You handled that like a pro,” she says, her voice warm and approving. “Sounded very real from out here. Not that I was listening, of course.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I reply, smirking. “I’m a great actor.”