“You’re going to get us caught,” he warns.
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.
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.
“I said open your f*****g 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 n
