"Is there any risk?"
He shook his head. "Not really. They're very skilled at this and have been doing it successfully now for years. It's amazing and has saved so many lives." I followed him into the kitchen, where he kept his bottle of Anisovaya. Yelena Kuznetsova's shot glasses were at my father's apartment, so instead, Drake sorted through his glasses in the kitchen cupboard and brought out two mismatched juice glasses.
"These will have to do," he said and poured two shots of vodka for us. He passed one to me and then held his own up. "Za vas," he said, unable to muster much enthusiasm.
"Za vas," I replied, forcing a smile, and together, we shot back the vodka. Then he took my glass out of my hand and put them both on the side table. He pulled me into his arms, his going around my shoulders, mine around his waist, my head resting on his chest.
"What a night," he said, exhaling heavily. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck."
I squeezed him more tightly. "You've had a shock. Shock after shock. To learn you have a son, and that he has leukemia, and that you might be a match for a bone marrow transplant… It's a lot to take in at once."
He nodded but said nothing, his hand stroking my hair. Then, he kissed the top of my head. "I need you," he said, his voice hoarse. "I need to get lost in you."
I pulled my head off his chest and looked up in his eyes, which were half-hooded. I heard the need in his voice and my body responded immediately.
"I'm yours," I said, emotion filling me, making my throat choke up. "Whatever you want. Whatever you need."
He bent down and kissed me, his kiss soft at first, but growing in passion as his hands stroked down my back to my ass, which he squeezed with both hands.
"I need you naked, now," he said, his voice breathless. He began stripping away my clothes, first my sweater and jeans, then my bra and panties and socks so that I stood naked in front of him, my heart racing.
"So beautiful…"
He pulled me to the bedroom, and I wondered what he'd do to me, how he'd fuck me. Would he tie me up and make me come three times? Would he do something new? He didn’t have his toys at 8th Avenue. Only the old leather tie we'd used that first night he actually bound my hands.
Then, to my surprise, he pressed me face down over the edge of the bed, one hand on my shoulder.
"Clasp your hands together," he said. I did as he ordered. "Spread your legs farther apart."
I complied without a word or hesitation, my hands sliding up so they were above me on the bed. I heard his belt buckle jangle as he unfastened it, and the zzzhr as he pulled down his zipper. And then, without any preliminaries, without any foreplay besides the one kiss, he entered me, his cock hard as rock. I gasped as he filled me up, the pressure intense and a shock.
Then he fucked me. Hard.
One hand gripped my hip while with the other, he twisted a fist of hair, holding me down. He said nothing, just thrust hard and fast, the slap slap slap of his body against me increasing in pace and loudness, his breathing matching it.
I deliberately did not let my body respond to anything. I merely listened and felt and experienced Drake fucking me, his need for release – for the sweet release of endorphins from his orgasm. His thrusts increased in speed and then he leaned over me, his mouth on my shoulder, biting down a bit. He kissed the spot and then leaned closer, his mouth next to my ear.
"I'm just going to fuck you," he said, his voice harsh. "I'm just going to fuck you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I said, letting the feel of him thrusting so hard and fast wash over me.
"Oh, fuck," he said, his mouth beside my ear. "Oh, fuck…"
Then he came, and I caught a glimpse of him when I craned my neck as far as I could. His face was red, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw gritted tightly. He grunted in my ear with each slow thrust as he ejaculated, his face slackening, his mouth opening as he panted.
Then he collapsed on top of me, his weight almost crushing me, his cock still inside of me, throbbing now and then in the aftermath of his orgasm. Then he moved aside slightly and I could breathe once more.
I said nothing. He said nothing. Finally, he rose up and pulled out of me slowly and I knew he was watching to see evidence of his pleasure seeping out of me. Creampie, he told me it was called.
I crushed my face into the coverlet to hide my smile. Yes, my body still felt need, I was unsatisfied sexually, but I was happy. Drake couldn't stop from using my body for his own pleasure. He was totally focused on himself and his own need – for once.
He finally took me as I always wanted him to and for once, I felt that he truly needed me.
I continued to lie there, waiting for what he would do. He went right to the bathroom and I heard him running water. When he returned, he held a wet washcloth and a towel in hand and proceeded to clean my body off, stroking it over my flesh gently. Then, he lay beside me on the bed on his back, his head turned to face mine.
"Thank you."
I smiled and reached out to touch his cheek. "Thank you."