Page 120 of Anton

“Be a good girl and shut your mouth.”

Oh God. That filthy command alone might be enough to undo me.

I nod, biting down on every sound, but staying quiet is nearly impossible with how good he feels.

“Good girl.” He kneads my clit, coaxing the pleasure higher until my body jerks and the last of my thoughts dissolve.

A laugh carries through from the hallway, followed by the rattle of someone trying the handle. Panic flashes through me, tangled with the thrill of being caught like this.

Anton pounds into me harder, his mouth brushing my ear. “Let them stand outside and listen while I fuck this orgasm out of you.”

My eyes squeeze shut, and when he rubs my clit again, his name tears from my lips and my core clenches around him, forcing me to bite down before I give everyone outside the room exactly what he wants them to hear.

“That’s it, printsessa.” He fucks me through every violent pulse while my knees threaten to give out and my palms slide uselessly against the wall. “Give it to me. Show me what I own.”

Pleasure keeps rolling through me, each thrust drawing it out until my body is trembling from the sensitivity. A guttural curse rips from him as he seizes my hips and his strokes lose their rapid rhythm. Then he follows me, spilling deep inside me while his mouth presses against the side of my neck.

For several breaths, neither of us pulls away. Only our ragged breathing and the distant throb of music fill the room. Anton rests his forehead against my shoulder, one arm spread over my waist and his cock still buried inside me.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I finally say. “My family could see you.”

“Let them.”

His lips return to my neck, and my eyes flutter to a close while I savor his warmth against me and hold on to every piece of him he’s willing to give. Then he gradually withdraws, his fingers trailing from my waist until even that touch is gone, and the loss of him feels like he’s torn a part of me away too.

Silk falls over my thighs as I straighten, my legs still unsteady while he fixes his clothes and tucks his shirt back into place.

He turns toward the door, then pauses to meet my eyes. “Be careful, Thora.”

Is this about the shooting? Does he know something I don’t?

And where is he going now? Is he staying nearby or heading back to New Jersey?

But I say nothing, and when he reaches the lock, some stupid part of me waits for him to stay. To give me one reason to believe what just happened between us means something.

Instead, he opens the door and marches out.

I remain where he left me, facing the closed door while the distant music from the ballroom seeps through the walls. Everything inside me feels too raw to hide under a practiced smile or a glass of champagne, so I do the only thing that makes sense.

I find the rear exit, slip through the back door, and go home.

There’s nothing left for me at this party. Not anymore.

ANTON

I’m waiting across the street in my rental when Thora slips through the rear door and crosses the parking lot toward her car.

My fingers flex around the wheel as she climbs behind hers. I don’t pull away until she does, determined to see her home safely. Mikhail and Arkady could already be here.

I let her gain some distance before easing into traffic, keeping two cars between us and falling farther back whenever the road leaves me too exposed.

When she turns onto the private road leading to the ranch, I slow before the gate comes into view. Her taillights vanish ahead, but I remain there, making sure no one else turns in behind her.

No one is getting close enough to hurt her. No matter what it costs.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

THORA