“Ow-oh…. Dima,” I pant, wiggling under the steady onslaught. My butt’s getting hot and tingly, the intensity matching the intensity of my desire.
“Hm.” He pauses and plunges his fingers deeper inside me. “You feel how sopping wet that made you?”
“I… like it,” I moan.
Understatement.
I need it. I crave it. I must have it all.
“How much do you like it?” He returns to spanking me, faster this time, maybe ten or more times. The moment he stops, I come.
He molds his body to my back and keeps working his fingers inside me until he’s wrung out every last spasm and release.
“Whoa,” I gasp when my breath has returned to normal.
Dima peels me away from the countertop and turns me away from him, toward the stairs. “Go to bed, amerikanka.” It’s a gentle command, but definitely a dismissal.
Not wanting to ruin the deliciousness of my release with any speculation about what it means, I obey, walking away from him and not turning to look back until I reach the base of the stairs.
He’s still standing there, watching me. His gaze is soft, sort of wondering, but when I catch it, he lifts his chin toward the stairs.
I draw a breath and turn back around. It takes all my concentration to make my shaky legs climb the stairs and get into bed.
I lie down and cup my heated ass, letting the endorphins flood through me, erasing all the tension from my brain and body. Ignoring the claw of loneliness that wants to rip into my heart.
Dima
It’s pitch black out. I’m in the woods outside the cabin being chased by the Feds. I’ve hidden Nikolai in the Land Rover, and I’m leading them away from him, but I’ve lost Natasha. Do they have her? Is she with them?
Fuck, I don’t know!
I run into a clearing and someone throws floodlights on. I skid to a halt, blinded. Out of the glare walks Alex, a gun in his hand pointed at me.
“Where’s Natasha?” I demand.
“Natasha?” he gives a cruel laugh. “She’s dead. Just like Alyona. You shouldn’t have brought her here.”
I THROW myself out of bed, trying to throw off the damn dream.
An hour later, I dump the plastic bags filled with every single piece of chocolate the convenience store had out on the kitchen counter. I left at dawn to drive out to the highway and get it, spurred by this inexplicable need to make sure Natasha’s cravings are met.
Natasha’s needs.
Holy. Mother. Of God.
Watching her come and come and come last night went beyond any of my wildest fantasies, all of which prominently feature her.
Who would’ve known? She doesn’t come off as overtly sexual. She doesn’t dress sexy. She dresses like an American teenager or college student. I guess I do, too, so maybe that means nothing. But her seeming lack of awareness of how goddamn beautiful she is has always been part of the appeal. It makes her seem young, innocent.
Makes me want to protect her with every gun I have-and I’m not usually the guy holding a weapon unless you count my computer. Which may be one of the most dangerous weapons Ravil wields, honestly.
And she still seems innocent to me, even after watching her string of sexy-as-fuck orgasms. She still seems untouched, even though I touched her.
Her soul is pure-maybe that’s it.
She reminds me of Alyona, and I hate myself for mingling the two in my mind.
I shouldn’t let Natasha overtake my memories of Alyona. Of how we lost our virginity together. Both of us fumbling in the back of the Lada in the crisp autumn air. Fogging up the windows until we had all the privacy we could desire. She let me take her clothes off. Laid across my back seat. I kissed her soft skin until she begged me to do more.
I wasn’t rough or demanding like I was last night.
Gospodi, Natasha. Guilt crowds my chest. I was a monster to her last night. I’ve been a monster ever since Nikolai got shot. No, if I’m honest, I was a dick even before that. From the moment she entered my bedroom with that massage table, I couldn’t stop thinking of all the things I wanted to do with nothing but massage oil and bare skin between us.
I’ve pretended it’s her fault-that she’s the wicked temptation, luring me from the vows I made to Alyona on her deathbed, but in fact, the truth is the fault is only mine.
She’s not wicked. She’s sweet, even when she’s purposely being a temptation. And she doesn’t know about those vows.
Part of me wants to tell her-to explain why I can’t. To admit my attraction, which has to be obvious at this point, and be honest with her. Tell her it can’t ever happen. We can’t ever happen.
But even that conversation feels like a betrayal to Alyona.
Like, the moment I bring her up to Natasha, I’ve forever sullied her memory. I’ve made her the other woman. The one I left behind for this new, shiny, alive one.
And I can’t do that to Alyona.
She gave me everything. Her vulnerability. Her whole heart. I loved the person I was when I was with her because she loved me. I’m lucky-I’ve always had Nikolai. Twins are never lonely. But until Alyona, I was Nikolai’s twin. He’s the more social one. The funny one. He has charisma. I always let him do the talking for the two of us. Alyona made me feel like I was the special one. The one worth talking to. Spending time with. Planning a future with.
And then the cancer came.