Page 55 of Scarred Angel

“What’s that?” I breathe.

“Truth or dare?” he murmurs, setting me down and turning me toward the mirror. His hand sweeps my hair from my shoulder, and his lips follow, slow kisses burning along my neck.

I close my eyes, tilt my head back into him. “Dare.”

“You’re going to keep that pretty mouth shut,” he growls against my skin. “My life depends on it.”

There’s no time to question him. His hand slides up my thigh, pushing my dress higher until the reflection shows me bare.

“Oh, fuck.”

His fist closes around the thin fabric, breath hot against my neck as he takes in the sight of my pussy, exposed just for him. A flash of gratitude hits me for the Brazilian I’d gotten a few days before the accident.

“Ty chertovski krasiva,” he rasps, voice thick. “So fucking beautiful.”

Forgetting we’re in a full house, forgetting that anyone could walk in at any second, I slide my hand into his hair, and whisper against his jaw, “Are you going to follow through with your dare, or what?”

“Eyes on the mirror,” he orders, bringing the hem of my dress to my mouth. “Open up.”

I do as I’m told, and he slowly stuffs it inside.

“Good girl. I want us both to watch how your body and your sweet cunt responds to my touch.”

My breath stutters, lashes fluttering when his finger parts me, skimming over my clit before sliding down my seam like he already knows me by heart.

“You weren’t lying,” he mutters, his reflection dark, hungry. “No panties. And already dripping for me.”

A moan slips from my throat as a second finger joins the first, circling me slowly, torturously. My body bows toward the mirror, needing more, and there’s no hiding from the reflection of what he’s pulling out of me.

His dark laugh vibrates against my skin. “Beg prettier, Kolibri. I want tofeelit when you shatter.”

A helpless sound escapes me. My hips move on instinct, chasing his fingers, desperate for more of the pressure he refuses to give.

“Sshh, beautiful,” he murmurs, tugging me closer until the heavy press of his cock rests against my back.

I bite down harder, fighting the urge to spin around and drop to my knees for him.

“Everyone is just feet away. What do you think they’d do if they walked in and saw their Valentina getting finger-fucked in her aunt and uncle’s hallway?”

Three fingers bury deep inside me now, curling, stroking that spot until my knees buckle.

I curse around my dress, slowly unraveling, and sure I’ll combust if I don’t scream.

“F-fuck,” I pant, unable to hold it.

“Bite down on me.” His inked forearm slides across my mouth, muffling my cries. “Use me, while I use you.”

In any other moment, I would have called him insane. But now, with the pressure building higher, sharper, I’m just seconds from crying out his name for the whole damn house to hear. Only the younger ones are gone, ducked out early for a movie with friends. Everyone else is right here. But I don’t care.

I sink my teeth into his skin, hard enough to taste blood.

“Just like that,” Maksim hisses in my ear. “Next time, I’m going to bend you over and take what’s mine. Because it is mine, isn’t it?”

Mine.

The word rattles through me, louder than the laughter drifting from the dining room, louder than the footsteps creaking down the hall. None of it matters. Not the noise. Not the house full of people just feet away. Only this—his fingers working me open, my body shaking against his.

I keep my eyes on the mirror like he told me to, even as every part of me screams to turn and kiss him. Maybe he senses my intentions and presses harder over my mouth, forcing me to swallow the desperate sounds clawing their way out of my throat.