KAIREN
I spent the next hour mingling on autopilot, shaking hands, laughing at bad jokes, dropping hints about the fabricated ledger to the right Sokolov associate.
But my mind was elsewhere. On Viktor. On the way his presence loomed behind me, a constant heat. On the drying mess between my thighs that made every step feel filthy.
On the bruises throbbing on my neck like badges.
By the time we finally left, after one last circuit of the room where Viktor's fingers grazed my ass again, deliberate and teasing, I was half-hard again, aching, every nerve raw.
The cool night air hit my face like a slap when we stepped outside, but it did nothing to cool the heat under my skin.
Viktor drove. The armored SUV was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the city blurring past. He didn't speak. Didn't even look at me.
