And Savannah felt like she was about to hit the roof when Maxim lowered his mouth to the pebbled flesh of one dark nipple. "Mmm!" She stifled an explosive groan and strained away from him, trying to escape back into the wall as the wet, warm sensation of his tongue threatened to overwhelm her senses. He only teased and sucked her harder in response, until he had drawn all of her into his mouth.
Anyone could walk in at any moment. Maybe they already had, and Savannah had been too preoccupied with the Russian thug ravishing her to the boundaries of her senses to notice. This was not how an undercover FBI agent conducted herself, but even if there was someone in the room here with them, no one from the task force she was assigned to would witness her fall from grace. She was putty in his hands, as malleable as she was surprisingly reactive.
If he was going to have her, here and now, then she was going to have him. She wasn't going to fall so much as willfully plunge over the cliff of her sense of morality, leaving her gun and badge and better sense behind her.
Her fingers dragged down the flat, surging plane of his abdomen, hooking in the front of his pants and yanking insistently at one of the last barriers between them. She felt Maxim return the favor, roughly pushing her panties down in answer. Her inner thighs were already slick with the evidence of her arousal. He slipped one finger inside of her easily, followed by another, scissoring her inner folds until she could feel her muscles clenching reflexively against him. Pleasure at the invasion flooded through her, his deep touches making her desperate to experience more. How long had it been? More importantly, how often had she ached for him to reach between her legs like this, to penetrate her, to fill the most intimate parts of her?
She tugged his zipper down, and Maxim's cock sprang free in her hands. She wrapped her fingers around it, reveling in its rigid girth. "Can't believe you manage to ride a bike with this thing between your legs," she whispered. She squeezed a little, just to be sure she wasn't imagining things, and was promptly rewarded by a gasp from Maxim.
"It's easier to be ridden," he admitted, and that was all the invitation Savannah needed. She parted her legs wider as Maxim retracted his fingers and slipped his hand beneath her trembling thigh. One-handed, he leveraged her up and positioned his waist between her legs, pinning her back against the wall. One heel slipped off her foot and clattered to the floor as she wrapped her legs around his hips.
"Come on," she urged him. She wasn't beyond begging for it at this point, but thankfully, she didn't have to-Maxim was as revved up and ready to go as she was. No more memories of who they were, no more second thoughts and misplaced inhibitions. Savannah felt the dome of his erection rub against her entry, felt him press forward. Inch by agonizing inch, Maxim slipped his way past her defenses.
His hips butted up against hers, and Savannah let out an incredulous moan when she realized Maxim had sunk himself fully inside her. Her head spun. When was the last time she had felt this full? She was completely oblivious to the cramped quarters and unwieldy position; with a man as strong and powerfully built as the Russian, vertical lovemaking seemed second nature to her already. She clenched her thighs, linking her arms and legs around him. Maxim cradled her with one palm beneath her ass, and slowly began to thrust into her.
He groaned, deep and guttural, and Savannah's head fell back against the wall. Her lips parted, soundless-she didn't want anyone to find them here, she didn't want to be discovered-but her anxieties fell away as Maxim drove himself into her again and again. Soon enough, the rhythmic slap of flesh-on-flesh was only drowned out by her stilted cries, her wordless pleading for more. She wanted it harder, faster, deeper-she wanted him to take her the way they had both known he desired to do so from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Games of repressed attraction between a man and a woman, why did they engage in them? What was the point? Why fight the absolute pleasure, the beautiful bliss, of such a fierce and kinetic union ?
Savannah thought she felt a strange vibration from somewhere-Maxim's back pocket? -but he was surging into her harder now, pounding her back against the stall until she thought the walls of their tiny claustrophobic cubicle would collapse around them. She clenched around him suddenly, and they came together with tangled, startled shouts. Maxim poured into her as Savannah's hips operated separate of her will, rolling and plunging and milking ever last drop, every last sensation that dark, brutal man had to offer her.
Once they had finished, Maxim collapsed against her with a spent groan. His hand fell away from the swell of her ass, and Savannah slowly lowered herself down off him. "You've got to get out of here," she whispered in his ear. Her voice shook, rocked by the tremors of her body. Even now, she could feel the echoes of her orgasmic pulses chasing through her, speeding with all the swiftness and heat of strong alcohol through her veins. "This … that was … "