18. Luka #3
“I’m driving. My attention is on the road.”
“Liar.”
“Yes.”
I keep my eyes forward as my hand moves under the slit of her dress. She’s breathing differently now, quieter, more careful. The traffic light ahead turns red. I stop behind a line of cars, check the mirrors, then let my fingers move higher.
Her hand clamps around my wrist. “Luka,” she whispers.
“Tell me to stop.”
Her lips part. She does not say it.
The light is still red.
The city moves around us, horns, engines, pedestrians crossing in front of the cars, and Nina is sitting beside me, trying to look composed while my fingers slide along the inside of her thigh.
I reach the edge of her underwear.
She closes her eyes for one second.
“Nina,” I say.
She opens them and looks at me.
I keep my voice low. “Do you want me to stop?”
Her grip on my wrist loosens. “No,” she says, barely audible.
The light turns green. I drive.
My hand stays between her thighs.
She grips the door handle with one hand and the edge of the seat with the other as I push her underwear aside. She’s already wet. Very wet. The discovery hits me hard enough that my hand tightens on the wheel.
She sees my jaw shift. “Don’t say anything,” she whispers.
“I was not going to.”
“You were thinking something.”
“I’m always thinking something.”
“Think about the road.”
“I am.”
I slide one finger through her slowly.
Her whole body goes still.
The city lights flash over her face, catching the way her mouth opens before she presses her lips together. I keep my eyes on traffic because I have to, but every sound she makes registers. Every small inhale. Every failed attempt to breathe normally.
I circle her clit with my fingertip.
She turns her face toward the window and mutters, “Oh my God.”
“Quiet.”
“You’re driving with one hand between my legs and telling me to be quiet?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unreasonable.”
I press a little harder.
Her head falls back against the seat. “I hate you,” she says, but there is no strength in it.
“No, you don’t.”
I slip one finger inside her.
She grabs my wrist again, not to stop me this time, only to hold on. Her body clenches around my finger, tight and hot, and I have to focus harder on the lane ahead than I have focused on most negotiations.
This is reckless.
I know that. I still do it.
Because she is nervous, because she’s mine in a way I’m not allowed to say in public, because she will walk into that gala in a few minutes and have to stand beside me under lights, cameras, and the eyes of people who would love to turn her into a story.
I want her loose before that happens.
I want her remembering my hand instead of their stares.
I want her walking in knowing exactly who brought her there.
I add a second finger at the next slow turn.
She makes a soft sound and immediately bites it back.
My voice stays low. “Good girl.”
Her eyes fly to mine. “That is not fair,” she whispers.
“No.”
“You can’t say that while—”
I curl my fingers.
She stops speaking.
The reaction is immediate. Her hips shift slightly toward my hand, and her knees part as much as the dress allows. I keep my pace steady, slow enough that she can stay quiet, firm enough that she starts to tremble despite herself.
The gala venue is still ten minutes away.
Enough time.
My thumb finds her clit again while my fingers move inside her. She clamps a hand over her mouth for a second, then lowers it because she knows it looks suspicious from outside. Good girl. Smart even when I’m undoing her.
Her voice shakes. “We’re five minutes away.”
“Seven.”
“You timed this?”
“I know the route.”
“You are unbelievable.”
I curl my fingers again.
Her thighs tighten around my hand. “Luka,” she gasps.
“Almost there?”
She gives me a furious look, but it falls apart before she can hold it. Pleasure takes the shape out of her anger. Her lashes lower, her lips part, and her hand slides from my wrist to my forearm, gripping hard enough to leave marks.
I want those marks.
I want more than I have any right to want.
The car slows with traffic near the venue road. Cameras are not visible yet, but the buildings are brighter here, the traffic more controlled, the security posts more frequent. I keep my face calm and my hand hidden beneath her dress.
She’s close.
I can feel it in the way her body tightens, in the pulsing around my fingers, in the small broken breaths she tries to smooth into silence.
“Look at me,” I say.
She shakes her head once.
“Nina.”
She turns her face toward me.
Her eyes are dark, desperate, annoyed with both of us.
I keep driving with one hand, slow through the traffic, and rub her clit with my thumb until her breath catches and holds.
“Come now,” I say.
Her grip on my arm tightens.
She comes quietly, because she has to, body trembling in the passenger seat, mouth pressed shut, eyes locked on mine while her pussy clenches around my fingers.
I keep my hand steady through it, watching the road, watching her, keeping the car smooth as she falls apart beside me in complete silence.
It's one of the most controlled things I have ever done.
It’s also one of the filthiest.
When she finally exhales, it’s shaky and soft.
I ease my fingers out and fix her underwear carefully beneath her dress.
She sits there flushed, breathing hard, hair still perfect enough for the gala but eyes ruined.
I bring my hand back to the wheel.
She looks at me. Then at my hand.
Then back at me.
“You are a menace,” she says, voice low.
“Yes.”
“I have to walk into a gala now.”
“Yes.”
“With your security behind us.”
“Yes.”
“And your hand was just—”
“You look calmer.”
Her mouth opens. Then closes.
She stares at me like she wants to hit me and kiss me at the same time. “You’re lucky I can’t ruin my makeup,” she says.
“You look beautiful.”
That stops her.
Her anger falters, just for a second.
I keep my eyes on the road because if I look at her too long, I’ll turn the car around.
The venue lights appear ahead.
Nina sits up straighter, smoothing her dress with shaking hands.
I check the mirror one last time.
I lower my voice. “Ready?”
She exhales slowly. “No.”
I glance at her.
Her cheeks are still flushed. Her eyes are clear now, though, and when she lifts her chin, she looks exactly like the woman I wanted beside me tonight.
“Good,” I say. “Then stay close.”