I look to both sides. Not even beginning to understand how that’s a punishment.
“You are so very beautiful. It will be joy to punish you,” he says, not seeming to notice my totally confused look.
Then he cups the back of my head and pulls me into him for a deep kiss.
A deep, long kiss. I’m gasping by the time he finally breaks it off.
“I am hungry,” he says. “Are you hungry? I will have Vlad order us something.”
Something is Chinese food, which we eat out of cartons in front of the TV while watching a hockey game.
Well, he’s watching a hockey game. I’m taking small bites of Mongolian Beef and trying not to stare at him as he stares at the screen.
He called me so very beautiful, but he’s a work of art—all defined muscle beneath his red shirt.
My body heats with memories of early this morning as the sun starts to sink in the sky behind us.
“Come, sit in my lap, pet, while I figure out how we will defeat my brother’s team.”
I hesitate, but then I remember…
No hesitations, my pet. When I give a command, I expect full and immediate submission. Or else, you will be punished for your insubordination.
I scramble into his lap, not wanting to get into any more arguments with him.
“Is that your brother?” I ask, pointing to the Minnesota Bobcat with RUSTANOV written across the back of his uniform.
“Da,” Cheslav answers. “His name is Artyom. We play his team in home game on Thursday night. Right now, they are most likely team to stand between me and my last Stanley Cup.”
“How do you know it will be your last?”
“I am thirty-five. That is very old for hockey. I train and do right things, but my body is telling me I must stop. And I would rather go out on top of my game, so this is my last year.”
I nod, my heart squeezing with empathy. I had pretty much aged out of cheerleading by my mid-twenties, and I remember how hard it had been to realize that your body would no longer support you in the sport you loved.
We watch the game for a few more minutes. I’ve never seen Cheslav play hockey, but his brother skates like I figure he would. Artyom is strong yet slippery. I watch him relentlessly attack players until he steals the puck. Then he somehow manages to evade the opposing team until he shoots a goal.
Wow, he’s good. Like really, really good.
“Does your brother know this is your last year?” I ask Cheslav.
“Of course he does,” he answers. “I tell my brother everything. We are very close.”
“Knowing it’s your last year, maybe he’ll go easier on you,” I say and hope at the same time.
“Of course he will not,” Cheslav answers with a low chuckle. “His last name would not be Rustanov if he did not make me work for my final glory.”
“Oh…” Cheslav is blackmailing me into several days of sex. But for some reason, I want him to get his final glory. “Well, I hope you get the trophy anyway.”
“Thank you, krasotka. I plan to,” he answers. “I will not let my baby brother stop me.”
We continue to watch the game. Hockey isn’t my favorite sport, but this is fine. Cozy even…until Cheslav brings his hands up and starts massaging my nipples through my shirt.
The pajama top is thin, and his hands are rough. Before I know it, my nipples are pebbled and poking against my top.
That’s when he moves one hand down to my crotch. His hand lasers right back on my pearl. And he rubs at it through the barrier of my shorts.
I was confused before. But it only takes a few moments to fully understand why making me keep my clothes on was a punishment.
My clit throbs underneath his fingers. And my hips lift, rubbing against the bulge locked away underneath his zipper. Soon I’m squirming on his lap and pressing my breast and crotch into his hands.
“Look at your shorts, pet. There is a dark spot now. Are you truly that wet?”
Yes, I totally am that turned on, just from him touching me over my clothes. But what he’s doing isn’t enough. More. I want more.
“You want more, da?” he murmurs in my ear as if reading my thoughts. “You want my hands underneath this tank top and below the band of your shorts.”
A question. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my frustrated ache, my mind comes back online to answer. “Yes! Da!”
“My language sounds so cute in your mouth. I will have to teach you more to say to me while I am fucking you.”
He says that…then he takes me by the hips and sets me down beside him.
My body keeps pulsing after he pushes me away, like an engine from an old car still crackling and popping after you’ve taken away the key.