52

Is he mocking me?! I’m supposed to say that out loud?!

“Well, Kirill!” I whine, rubbing more actively through my wet underwear against his hand. But the man teases, sometimes working his fingers more intensely and bringing me close to the point of no return, then slowing down and letting the moment slip away!

“My bride only needs to say a few words,” he taunts, looking with his bright emerald eyes into mine, drunken with desire. “So, whose are you, Vicky?”

What a bastard! I know he won’t stop until he hears what he wants! And the problem is that right now I could say anything just to get relief, like an addict craving a dose.

“Yours!” I shout, unable to wait or endure any longer, writhing under his strong hands.

“There! Proof enough!” the scoundrel smirks. “Damn, you’ve turned me on so much, golden-haired witch, that daddy also needs attention from mommy, otherwise I won’t make it to the wedding.”

Pulling his hand from my soaked panties, I feel bitter frustration and cold on my crotch. Kirill, meanwhile, starts fiddling with his pants, releasing my hands. Very quickly done, the man grabs my left hand and places it on his hard cock.

“Come on, baby, let’s make it feel good for each other,” Kirill raspily whispers, returning to my clitoris.

I wanted so badly to release the growing ache that I didn’t even think of pushing my fiancé away. I started working confidently with my hand on his charged shaft, and he let out a deep groan.

I don’t know how it’s possible, but that sound aroused me even more. Kirill pulled the fabric of my underwear aside and began touching me skin to skin, which caused sharper sensations.

“One more time! Whose are you, Vicky?!” the fiancé demands, starting to work his hand more actively, wanting an answer from me.

“Yours!” I shout, feeling the approach of climax, still rhythmically working my hand over his erection.

“Good girl, but whose, again?!”

“Yours! Yours!” Shuddering in convulsions of orgasm, I shout indistinctly, and Kirill, grabbing my cheeks, drives my mouth into a deep kiss. After a few more movements with his hand, I feel hot liquid in my palm and a prolonged male groan in my mouth.

So we just sit there, hands on each other’s genitals, foreheads touching, trying to catch our lost breath. The car windows are completely fogged up, just like us, and our chests heave as if we had just survived a chase.

“I hope now you finally understand whose you are?” Kirill asks, holding my chin and tracing my swollen lips with his thumb, watching his action carefully.

“You do realize that at moments like this, I could say anything I want?” I murmur, barely moving my tongue, looking at the relaxed face of the handsome man, who slightly smiles at the corner of his lips. “And that doesn’t mean I actually believe it or that it’s true.”

“Keep comforting yourself then. We both know the truth perfectly well,” he says, quickly kissing me on the lips before leaning back. “Napkins are in the glove compartment.”