“Oh my God, what is this, Peaches? You’re so damn pretty.” I mold my hands around the bra cups and squeeze, and she gives a husky laugh. “So…” I kiss from her jaw down the side of her neck. “Damn…” I slip my finger under her bra strap and pull it down her arm to kiss across her collarbone to her shoulder. “Pretty.” I take a big bite of the meat of her shoulder–firm enough to make her gasp, gentle enough not to leave a mark.
I work open the clasp at the back of her bra and slide the other strap off her shoulder, so it drops to the floor. Her breasts are pale and peach-tipped. She gets nervous when I look, so I turn her to face out, toward the window that faces the lake. I cup both her breasts in my hands and squeeze, working her nipples into firm points between my thumbs and forefingers as I kiss along the side of her neck and nip her ear.
“Tell me what you want, Peaches.”
She nods. “I want to do this.”
Oh. Okay, I didn’t know doing it or not was still in question. Good to know.
“How do you want it, Nadia?”
She shakes her head. “I…I don’t know.”
“Okay,” I say. “You don’t have to know.” I stroke my palm up the flat plane of her belly, then back down, angling my hand into her leggings. I start over her panties, cupping her mons. The fabric of her panties is both smooth and rough. Satin and lace.
“Aw, Peaches. Are these matching?” I shove her leggings down her hips to get a look.
Damn.
“So sexy.” I drop to a squat to pull her leggings and socks off her feet, leaving her in nothing but her panties. Then I trail my tongue up the inside of her leg, starting at her ankle and making my way with flicks and nips and brief sucking all the way to the apex of her thighs.
“You want my mouth here, pretty girl?”
She works to swallow. “Um…”
I wait because she seems unsure.
“I don’t know.”
I open my mouth and nip her pussy through her panties.
“No,” she says quickly, and I instantly back off. “Um, I just want… to, um, you know.” She flaps her hand and says something in Russian.
“Talk to me, Peaches.”
She darts to the bed and climbs on it. “Let’s… you know…”
“We might need to work on your dirty talk,” I tease, following her to the bed. I peel my sweater and t-shirt off over my head and toss them to the floor with Nadia’s clothes.
My dick is harder than a rock because Nadia is a wet dream in just her panties, but I leave my jeans on for the moment to remind myself this isn’t for me. It’s for her.
I would love to get her off with just my mouth or my fingers. Give her some pleasure without feeling the need to reciprocate.
“I don’t know dirty talk in English–”
I stop her with a kiss. “Kidding.” I kiss her again. “I was just teasing. You’re perfect, Peaches.”
She wraps her arms around me and pulls me down on top of her for more kissing. I press my thigh between her legs to give her some friction as I sweep my tongue between her lips.
She kisses me back–passionately. Breathlessly.
And then too breathlessly.
There’s a wild, mad scramble of limbs and nails and flying hair as a gasping Nadia fights her way out from beneath me.
“Nadia. Hang on. Are you okay?”
She struggles to breathe, her face turning red.
“Nadia, babe. Come here, let me help.”
It’s too late, though. She’s totally freaked. She scrambles off the bed and runs out of the room.
NADIA
Can’t. Breathe.
Blyad’. Blyad.’ Blyad’.
Metal machinery parts clash and bang between my ears. Chain links clack.
I run for the bathroom, terror seizing all of my body. I’m shaking all over, freezing cold, and can’t draw a breath for the life of me.
I knew it was Flynn, I wanted to be with Flynn, but then suddenly something transported me back to the sofa factory, and it was the cigar man on top of me, smothering me. Covering my mouth, so I couldn’t breathe.
Bozhe moi, I’m so embarrassed. And heartbreakingly disappointed. And I still can’t breathe. I struggle to get control of my body, but it won’t cooperate.
“Nadia!”
Gah. Flynn’s chasing me in here.
I try to shut the door on him, but he throws his arm between the door and the frame, keeping it from closing. I abandon my effort to shut him out and return to the more pressing concern–breathing. Trying to turn down the deafening clash of metal.
But I don’t want Flynn to see me this way.
Dammit, I wanted to have my fantasy where Flynn and I made love and the violent non-consensual acts in my past would just fade away.
“Please,” I gasp. “Pozhaluysta…please.” I grip the bathroom countertop and hang my head, wheezing for breath. Stars dance before my eyes. The room starts to spin.
I hear the front door open and close, but it doesn’t register.
Not until I hear the crack of a fist on flesh and see Flynn’s body slam against the bathroom wall.
“Stop it!” I scream in Russian, throwing myself between my very pissed-off brother and an offended Flynn.
I understand why Adrian attacked. It must look bad with me in nothing but my panties begging Flynn to leave me alone, but for God’s sake!
“Stop,” I repeat in Russian, bursting into tears. I’m thankful for the sobs because at least they move my breath.
I realize now I was struggling to inhale the whole time, but I couldn’t because I hadn’t let my breath out. My lungs were already full of old air.