Kat
The wind is freezing, but I’m bundled in layers of blankets, huddled on the speedboat Adrian called the tender. The boat slices through the darkness, away from the freighter.
“What about the bodies?” I shout over the noise of the engine.
I know I’m in shock. I’m not clear on what my next five minutes look like, let alone my next days, but I do know I don’t want Adrian to go to prison.
I don’t want to go to jail, either, for that matter.
“I took care of it,” Adrian says.
He cuts the engine before we reach the shore, so we coast in quietly. He helps me out of the blankets and onto the wooden dock, then tosses his duffel bag up. I’m wearing his leather jacket, like I did the first night we met. It smells of his clean, woodsy scent, and I don’t want to ever take it off.
I could easily run. I’d have a head start and could probably lose him. But I don’t want to leave Adrian now. I can’t leave him.
Whatever happens, I have to see it through.
I watch as he wipes the steering wheel and surfaces on the boat down, cleaning it of our fingerprints. Then he climbs out without tying the boat, leaving it to drift off.
A huge explosion out on the water from the direction we came makes me gasp. I don’t have to look at the satisfied gleam in Adrian’s eye to know he was responsible. The evidence is now gone. His tracks covered.
“Let’s find a hotel.” He picks up the duffel bag.
I drag my gaze away from the fire on the water and nod. I let him lead. “Where are we?”
“Antwerp, Belgium. How’s your Dutch?”
“Sorry, not a word.”
“Me neither.” He keeps one hand on my back as he pulls out his phone and checks the map app, then orders us a ride on Uber. Fifteen minutes later, we’re safe and warm in the back of a car. Adrian rummages in his duffel, which he refused to put in the trunk of the car, and hands me my purse.
It’s a simple gesture. Sort of worthless, since he said he already destroyed my phone, but it is comforting to me to have my own belongings in my possession. I pull out my lip gloss and rub it on my lips.
We pull up in front of the Radisson Blu Astrid, and I giggle a little. “Is this where we’re staying?”
“Da.” He throws open the door, climbs out and holds his hand out for me to come his way. I follow instead of going out my own door because I like the attention. I like the care he’s taking with me. And also because Adrian is a guy worth following.
I don’t know whether his plans have changed, but I’m still holding out hope this can come out right.
Somehow.
When we get to the front desk of the hotel, Adrian presents them with a Russian passport and a fake name and pays with a matching credit card. “I’d like the best room available, please,” he tells the clerk.
“Absolutely, sir.” The guy’s gaze slides to me and my soiled school-girl outfit. The braids. The platform heels. Adrian’s jacket.
The guy thinks I’m a sex worker. I mean, who can blame him? It’s five in the morning, and I’m dressed like a stripper who’s been living on the street.
My stomach churns. What was fun for the rave has turned into something sick and disgusting now that I know about my dad and his business. About Adrian’s sister and the other women.
Adrian draws me tightly against his side, claiming me like a treasured bride. He kisses my head as if to show we’re a couple, not a business encounter.
The clerk averts his eyes and types on his computer. “How many nights, sir?”
“Three nights,” Adrian says decisively, and I shoot a look at him that he doesn’t return.
“I have a junior suite.”
“I’ll take it. Is room service available now?”
The clerk looks at his watch. “It starts in an hour.” He slides two key cards across the counter. “Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you.” Adrian hands me the keycards. Like returning my purse to me, it feels symbolic. He’s giving me agency. Power.
I could open my mouth right now and tell this clerk I’m a prisoner, but Adrian risked it anyway. I could have told the Uber driver. I guess it means…I’m not his prisoner anymore.
Plans have changed.
I hope.
He picks up his bag and keeps his arm around me as we walk to the elevators.
“Are we staying three nights?” I ask.
“Probably not.” Adrian shrugs. “But I wanted it to seem like we had an itinerary.”
“What is your job in the bratva?” I ask as we step inside the elevator, thinking about how he took down five men, blew up a ship, and sent a boat adrift. Also that he has a fake passport and seems very good at this. It’s foolish for me to be impressed, but I can’t help it.
He’s so damn capable.
And he’s done all this to right the wrongs of my father. I knew he was a hero. An unconventional one, but still a hero.
“I’m the cleaner.” He leans his back against the elevator wall and pulls me against his front.
“That makes sense.”
“I don’t usually make the messes, but when I do, I guess I go big.” He shoots me a rueful look that makes my heart squeeze.
We get off at our floor, and I let us into the hotel room. It’s clean and luxurious, and I head straight for the bathroom.
“Look at this tub!” I exclaim over the huge, deep soaking tub.
Adrian follows me in and turns the water on full blast, opening the bottle of bubble bath and soaking salts and dumping them in.
“Are you getting in?” I asked.
He starts unbuttoning my blouse. “You are,” he says.
“Will you come in with me?” I ask as he slides my blouse off my arms.
Some emotion washes over his face. I can’t quite identify it. Gratitude? Grief? Maybe a mixture of both. “You want me to?”
“Yes.”
He unhooks my bra in the back, and I shake it off onto the floor beside my blouse.
“Whatever you need Kit-Kat,” he murmurs, his warm palms sliding down my bare arms. “Whatever you want.”
“It looks big enough for two.” The bubbles are starting to form, piling higher and higher in the black marble tub.
I scoop a handful and bring them to my nose to breathe in the orange coriander scent.
Adrian unzips my skirt in the back and tugs it off along with my panties.
I rotate to face him and lift the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his chiseled abs, up the broad planes of his beautiful hairy chest, and over the top of his head.
He starts to unbutton his pants, but I take over, wanting to undress him as he undressed me. Wanting to take a more active role this time. My fantasies are fun, but this time, it feels real. It feels like the first time Adrian and I have been intimate with each other. The real Adrian and the real me. Not some kinky sexual fantasy. We’re not captor and prisoner. Not schoolgirl and teacher. Not master and slave.
“You are sexy with a gun,” I tell him.
He lets out a puff of shocked laughter. “You’re warped,” he says.
It wounds me, and he sees it immediately, cupping my face. “I didn’t mean that,” he says. “I mean, I meant it in the most admiring way possible. I love your kink. I love that you’re you. Wild and funny and free.” He pulls the elastic off one of my braids and starts to unwind it. “You’re beautiful heartbreakingly beautiful. You’re the most lovely girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”
I suck in my breath, trembling. Not wanting to speak in case there’s more.
“I wishI wish things had been different. I wish I hadn’t fucked this up.” He unwinds the other braid.
I stroke his face now, wanting to comfort him. “Kiss me,” I say.
He lowers his head infinitely slowly, his lips hovering just above mine, suspended in time. It’s this captured momentthe space between our two bodies, both the magnetic pull and the resistance there at the same time.
And because I’m not the passive recipient this time, not the girl waiting to be acted upon, but the girl who makes her own choices and takes what she wants, I close the distance. I grip his face, pull it to mine and devour his lips. I slant my lips one way then the other, pulling his lower lip into my mouth. I sweep my tongue into his mouth and tangle and twine it with his.
He listens at first then responds with a fervor, snagging the back of my waist with his forearm and yanking me against his hard body. His other hand cups the side of my neck. My nipples tighten where they brush against his ribs. His cock thickens against my belly.
For once, I don’t want the sex to be anonymous and hard from behind. The kind where I can stay in my head with the fantasy.
No, this time, I want it slow and gentle or maybe not gentlescratch gentle. But I want it intimate. Looking into each other’s eyes. Opening our hearts, minds, bodies, beings to each other.
This is love. This is what sex is forthis communion of two bodies. Two people. Two beings who are matched in a way no two other beings can be.
Adrian seems to want to take his time, too, because he doesn’t spin me around and fold me over the side of the tub. Instead he gently pushes me away from him and breaks the kiss. “Let’s get in.” He tips his head in the direction of the water and holds my hand like a gentleman, helping me to step into the tub.
I stand in the center of it until he comes in too, then I sit and nest in the cradle of his legs, leaning back against his chest. His soapy hands slide all over my skin not really washing me, just touching.
He rubs circles around my nipples with his middle fingers. He cups my breasts and kneads them, then slides one hand up to wrap around my throat in the way that I love. I lean my head back on his shoulder trying to block out the events of the night. Trying not to ask what’s going to happen tomorrow. Or later today, I guess, since it’s already dawn.
His fingers slide down to circle my belly button then cup between my legs where my muscles catch and release.
I close my eyes and surrender to the sensations, let Adrian give me pleasure without desperately seeking a finish. He parts my folds and finds my clit, which he gently circles. Time stands still. With this touchthis undemanding, light touch, I am reborn. My body vibrates and hums with pleasure, releasing the ugliness of the night, coming firmly into the present.
Eventually the water cools, so Adrian lifts me to stand and follows me out of the tub. I hold a towel open for him, and he flashes me that rare, boyish grin before snatching it from me and wrapping me up in it. He captures me and pulls me back against his body. “Do you think I need to be taken care of, little one?”
“You had a rough night, too,” I offer.
He rocks me back and forth in his arms, swaying like it’s a slow dance. I don’t want it to end even though I sense the ending is near.
Very, very near.
Adrian towels me off and leads me to the bed where he pulls the covers back for me.
“You’re coming in, too, right?” I ask as I crawl onto the bed.
“Oh, I’m coming in.” Adrian pounces, tackling me down on my back, his lips crashing down on mine. I lock my ankles behind his back, drawing his hips into the cradle of mine as I slide my tongue between his lips.
He braces his weight on his arms and lets me feel the warm tip of his cock. “I need to get a condom.”
“I have an IUD,” I remind him.
“I’m clean.” He holds my gaze as he drags the head of his cock through my juices. When he presses forward, he moves slowly, like he’s watching for trauma.
I use my legs to draw him in, rocking up to meet him.
There’s something life-affirming and whole about the way our bodies fit together. The way they feel together. I need this as much as I need water and air. We hold each other’s gazes as he rocks slowly in and out of me, dipping his mouth down every so often to meld our mouths with another searing kiss.
Like in the bath, there’s no frenzy to finish. We’re communing together, present and giving. His rhythm becomes my rhythm as we move in concert.
And then it’s no longer enough. Adrian raises to his knees and lifts my pelvis into the air, holding me steady, so he can drive deep and fast. It feels like he could split me apart, and I want him to. I want to be consumed by him as I devour everything about this moment. This experience.
Our cries and shouts mingle, becoming more desperate as we both draw closerstill completely in tune with one another.
There’s no need to speed up or slow down because we both orgasm at the same exact momenthis roar of satisfaction carried by my higher pitched scream, the two sounds weaving together in a harmony all our own.
I shake and shudder around him, feeling the release all the way to my toes. “Adrian, oh God,” I chant.
He slowly lowers my hips back to the bed and nuzzles against my neck. “You don’t have to call me God,” he murmurs, laughter making his normally rough voice rich and velvety.
“You’re the only one who makes me come like that.”
“All right, I am a God, then,” he jokes, rolling us to our sides. He strokes my hair back from my face, and we breathe together in silence.
“You should eat a little before you fall asleep,” he says when my eyes drift closed. He eases out of me and gets up. “I’ll call room service.”
The sound of his deep voice on the phone falls like a lullaby all around me. A blanket I wrap myself in as I drift into dreamland.