THE FIXER

Or is this actually real? It feels real, but I’m so afraid to trust in it. Everything seems too easy. Too perfect. Things looking up for my acting career. Living in the U. S. again, a short flight away from my friends. Making new friends in Maxim’s roommates.

Feeling wild and celebratory and maybe with my exhibitionism coming out to play, I open the zipper on my dress and pull it over my head.

Rather than reaching for me, Maxim steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets, his gaze sweeping up and down.

“How was it you liked to punish me?” I purr, unfastening my bra. “Just in my heels?”

He pretends to be casual, but I see his erection tenting his pants. “Aw, fuck, sugar.” He walks slowly toward me. “That teasing’s going to get you spanked.”

“Mm. I’m counting on it.” I back up toward the Lambo, cracking the door to toss my dress and bra inside. He follows, keeping his distance and his relaxed posture.

I square off to him, holding his gaze as I slowly slide my g-string down my thighs and step out of it.

Maxim makes a beckoning motion, stepping closer. “I’ll take those.” I hand them to him, and he tucks them in his pocket.

“Hands on the hood. Spread your legs.”

Thrills of excitement zing through me as I take the position, pressing both palms to the cool metal and affecting a wide stance in my high heels. It’s a warm night, so I’m not chilled by my nudity out here. Or perhaps it’s the heat pooling between my legs. The risk of being caught up here by someone, completely naked, makes this a hundred times more exciting than if we were somewhere private.

Maxim palms my breasts from behind, squeezing both nipples. “My wild bride.” I toss my hair when I look over my shoulder at him. His hand claps down on my ass, hard. I shriek and then laugh. Tremors run down my legs.

“Ouch?” I murmur.

He slaps me on the other cheek, just as hard. “I know, caxapok. But you look so pretty with my hand prints on your ass.”

More shivers shoot down my inner thighs, lifting my arches and curling my toes.

“Be a good girl and hold still for it.” I do because I freaking love it. He spanks me in a flurry of short, quick slaps warming my ass with his palm until I’m shifting on my feet. “That’s right.” He rubs the sting away.

“What’s it for?” I ask. I don’t know why. I think part of me still wants to know if he’s forgiven me for the past.

“For making me fall in love, lyubimaya.”

I whimper because it tears me wider open every time he says it. Smashes my defenses. Leaves me more and more vulnerable to this man.

Did my father know I would feel this? That we could be happy together? In love?

Even the tiniest sliver of belief that he did feels like redemption. I didn’t know I wanted to be redeemed. Certainly not by him. But the feeling is wonderful. He didn’t despise me. What if he did want what was best for me?

“Please,” I beg.

Maxim’s fingers slide between my legs, and I almost come just from that touch. “Begging already, sweetness? You need my cock?”

“Yes.”

“You want to be fucked over your brand new car? Need me to show you who’s really driving around here?”

I laugh because I knew it must bother the extreme alpha male in him to let me drive, and yet he did it anyway. “Yes. Show me.”

“I’ll show you.” I hear the rip of a condom foil, and then the head of his cock rubs over my wet folds.

I push back, eager to take him. After a week of non-stop sex, I’m addicted to the feel of him inside me. To coming when I’m stretched wide and sore from his pounding. Surrendered to his control.

He’s a bossy lover. He talks dirty and puts me in degrading positions, but he always makes sure I come at least twice as many times as he does. He takes care of me.

He slaps my ass again lightly as he pushes in. “Damn,” he groans. “You look like a Penthouse pinup right now, baby. You’re like every man’s dream. A hot car and an even hotter woman.

He reaches around to stroke my clit, easing in and out of me slowly. “What part do you like best, sugar? Your spanking or knowing we might be caught?”

“Getting caught,” I gasp, my inner muscles squeezing his cock. Although I love the spanking, too. “You?”

“Me?” He catches hold of my hair and tugs my head back. “I just like being in charge.”

I squeeze around him again.

“I like it when you offer yourself up to me like a gorgeous little fuck-doll.” He pinches one of my nipples, then pushes my torso down. “Tits on the hood, beautiful.”

The car is shiny clean, but even if it wasn’t I would do what he told me. Maxim makes pleasing him a game I like to play.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

He holds me down with his hand in the middle of my back and starts slamming in harder. When he pushes too hard and my pelvis slams against the car, I yelp and he instantly adjusts, wrapping his forearm in front of my pelvis to cushion the contact.

And then it’s on.

He slams in harder and harder, making me lose my breath, lose my mind.

The pressure of wanting to finish before we’re caught ratchets up my need, and yet it feels so good, I don’t want it to be over, either.

“I’m going to fuck you up against the window at home. Out on the rooftop. I’m going to finger you in that theater the next time we go there.”

“Gospodi,” I whimper. “I’m going to come.”

“Not until I say.” There’s a sharp warning in his voice.

He hasn’t played this game with me before, and I go cross-eyed, trying to hold back the tidal wave about to descend.

“You be a good girl and wait for permission.”

“You’re… crazy,” I pant.