“Did I make your punishment too enjoyable?” He spanks the same side a little harder. I clench my buttcheeks. It hurts, but I love it. I whimper and cover his hand with mine again.
“Uh uh. Hands on the counter.” He gives me a sharp smack with the wooden spoon in the same place.
“Ow,” I whimper, even though it didn’t hurt that much. It’s more that I want more. Need more. He’s got me endlessly riding the edge of this orgasm.
He moves his fingers between my legs as he starts alternately popping each cheek with the spoon.
“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.
9
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.