20. Dahlia
20
DAHLIA
I n the morning, I still can’t reconcile anything about what happened last night. In the light of day, it feels like a blur—everything from chasing Alek down to Salty Sal’s to the fight in the parking lot, to him bringing me home and fucking me. And I can’t even be angry with him for the last part, because I wanted it every bit as badly as he did.
I was desperate to write over the feeling of that other man grabbing me, aching for the pleasure of Alek’s touch—his fingers and tongue and cock. That tension has been building between us since the day he found me talking to Evelyn in the living room, and after what happened, it seems like neither of us could dodge it any longer.
When he kissed me, it was with that same starving hunger that I’ve felt every time he’s touched me. And last night, I was too weak to say no. Too weak to say no to any of it, when it all felt so fucking good.
Four times. He made me come four times. I laid in bed after he left, still throbbing with the aftershocks, angry and heartsick over how he left and confused in every part of me. I’d never been more satisfied sexually in my entire life, and I’d never been more confused emotionally.
One minute he ravages me like he can’t get enough, and the next he runs from me like he can’t stand to be in the same room. I let out a frustrated sigh as I get up, feeling the soreness in every muscle. I don’t have time to think about it this morning. I took a short leave of absence from work to deal with all of this, but this is my first morning back, and the last thing I need is to be focused on Alek when I need to be focused on my job.
I take a hot shower to deal with some of the soreness, hesitating when I reach between my thighs and feel the slick remnants of Alek’s cum, desire shivering down my spine. I’ve never let a man come inside of me before. I told him not to last night—and yet, when he did it anyway, it made me come so fucking hard, too.
It felt so good. All of it felt incredible. I drag my slick fingers up to my clit, leaning back against the cool tiles as I circle the sensitive flesh, Alek’s cum wet on my fingertips. I close my eyes, and I picture his face as he filled me up last night until I shudder, an orgasm rippling through me as I stand under the steamy spray.
It doesn’t clear my head as much as I hoped. I dry off and get dressed, choosing a pair of slim black pants and a lavender silk blouse with long bishop sleeves, to avoid anyone seeing the bruises on my upper arm. My boss and co-workers are aware I got married, and the last thing I want is for them to suspect that Alek left those bruises on my arm.
He’s rough, but not like that. Not in any way I don’t enjoy…
Another shudder runs down my spine as I slip on my heels and jewelry, glancing at my wedding band as I head down to where the driver will be waiting to take me to work. Alek still doesn’t have his on, and I don’t know why it bothers me. Just like I don’t know why I don’t take mine off.
Once I’m at work, it’s a little easier to focus. The familiar sights and smells calm me as I go to my office, sitting at my desk for the first time in weeks with my decaf coffee and a long list of tasks to catch up on. For the first several hours of the morning, I’m lost in my to-do list, all thoughts of my husband, my new—temporary—home, and my pregnancy blissfully dissolved into the fog of work. It feels good to be back in my domain, in a place where other people answer to me, where I feel capable.
It makes me glad all over again, too, that I refused to marry Jude. This situation might not be ideal, either, but at least I’m still here in New York, with my job and most of the life I chose for myself still intact. It could be worse, I remind myself, trying not to think of the man who came up to me at the bar or the fight in the parking lot of Sal’s last night. Those are both things I hadn’t anticipated being a part of my marriage to Alek, and I’m still upset that he won’t give me answers.
Don’t think about it right now, I remind myself, but my to-do list is no longer distracting me as well as it was before. I get up, stretching slightly, and go to oversee the new display of Norse artifacts that is being shown off this weekend, and make sure it’s been set up correctly.
I’m in the dimly blue-lit room, checking off the sketch of the plan for the display when I hear footsteps behind me—and a moment later, a throat clearing.
“Dahlia.” The sound of Alek saying my name startles me, and I spin, eyes wide.
“What are you doing here?” It comes out sharper than I meant for it to, but I never anticipated him showing up at my work. “How did you find me?”
“It was easy enough to ask where you were at, or where I might find you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, that lazily self-satisfied look that I’ve seen before crossing his face. “A lot of the employees are female, so it was especially easy.”
I glare at him, unsure why the thought of him flirting with any of the museum employees makes jealousy slice through me, hot and unwelcome. He must see it flicker across my face, because I see that twitch at the corners of his mouth, closer to a smile than anything else I’ve seen before.
“I’m working,” I bite out. “Whatever you need, I don’t have time for it.”
Alek moves closer, with that slow, almost predatory stride. Like a big cat, or a wolf, that knows its prey is in sight and can’t possibly escape—a predator enjoying the hunt instead of fearing losing its quarry.
“I see that,” he says calmly. “That’s part of why I’m here. Why are you at work, after what happened yesterday?”
I blink at him. “I took leave to deal with—everything that’s happened, the last couple of weeks. Today was my first day back. Which you would know, if you ever talked to me other than to argue or fuck,” I add acidly.
Alek’s mouth twitches again. “Well, we’re already arguing, zhena . I’m happy to oblige with the second half. Especially after last night.” He steps closer still, his gaze dropping to my mouth. “I’ve never fucked in a museum before. And now that we’ve consummated our marriage?—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I step back rapidly, my breathing quickening despite myself and my skin flushing hot, and I nearly bump into one of the glass cases. My heart leaps with alarm, and I press my hand to my chest, trying to calm down as I put space between us. “Did you just come here to interrupt my day?”
“I came here to find out why you would be at work after being attacked last night. You should be home, recovering?—”
I laugh out loud at that. I can’t help it. “Recovering? Is that what you call what we did last night?”
Alek’s gaze turns dangerous. “You’re avoiding the question, zhena .”
“I’d rather be at work than at home, with nothing to do other than think about what happened,” I snap. “Happy? There’s your answer. Work gives me something to do. This is my place. My career, that I built, and I have control over it. That’s why I wanted to be here.”
Alek looks at me for a long moment, his gaze resting on my face, and I shift uncomfortably. “What? You think that’s stupid?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m impressed, Dahlia.” My name sounds like honey on his lips, and I try to ignore the slither of arousal that runs through me. “Most people would let what happened get to them far more than you have.”
Something in my chest warms at his approval, and I hate it. I shouldn’t want or need him to be impressed by me—but the look in his eyes is softer than what I’m used to, and it softens me.
For better or for worse, there’s something about him that calls to me, and vice versa. We’ve been drawn to each other ever since that first night, and we can’t seem to ignore that pull for long.
“Why don’t you show me around?” Alek asks, startling me out of my thoughts. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the Met. I’d like to see what you do. What is this exhibit?” He tilts his head slightly. “Or what’s your favorite?”
“This is an exhibit on Norse artifacts.” I hesitate for a moment, wondering if this is some kind of trick—but the fact is that I can’t help but want to show him around, now that he’s asked. The fact that he’s shown interest in what I do at all softens me towards him a little more, and I’m a sucker for anyone who wants to hear about art and museum exhibits. There’s a reason I’ve devoted my career to this. “I’m just checking off the displays to make sure they match the floor plan that we came up with. I’ll finish and explain them to you as I go.”
I half expect Alek to bail within a few minutes, that he’s just patronizing me for some reason, or pretending to have an interest in order to convince me to go to bed with him again. But instead, he listens with a clear interest as I explain the displays of weapons, textiles, and clothing, all found by archeologists on various digs. “These are different weights of fishing nets that were used,” I explain as we reach the last case, and I look at him for signs of his eyes glazing over, but he’s still watching me intently. “You can’t actually want to hear this.”
“Why not?” He shrugs. “I want to know what my wife does for work. And this is interesting. I used to come to the Met from time to time—before.” Something shutters briefly in his gaze, and I want to ask him once again what before means. What he’s talking about when he speaks as if his life has a clear before and after, with something terrible as the dividing line.
But I know if I do, he’ll shut down again, and leave. And suddenly, I don’t want him to. I’m enjoying this—this moment of connection between us that has nothing to do with sex. We haven’t had a moment like this before, and I find myself not wanting it to end.
“I’ll show you my favorite exhibit, if you still want to see,” I tell him as I finish checking off the floor plan, folding it up and sliding it into my pocket.
“I do,” Alek affirms, and I smile, heading towards the door.
“Then follow me.”
I take him down a hallway and to another floor, to the armor room. “This might surprise you,” I tell him with a laugh. “But I’ve always found it fascinating. All the different armors from different time periods, what they can tell you about the status of who wore it—and the armor for the horses!” I stop in front of one of the sets. “It all seems so foreign, from so long ago. I like the history of everything that comes through the museum, the stories behind them, the more removed from the present the better.”
“Not a fan of modern art, then?” Alek asks with a laugh, and I shake my head.
“Not at all. I like what can’t be found any longer. Remnants of the past, memories of things that would be gone if we didn’t preserve them. That’s what got me excited about art in the first place, and it’s what I’ve spent my career working on.”
“It’s impressive.” Alek looks around the room, and he starts to walk to the different sets of armor and weapons, asking questions as we pass through. He seems genuinely curious, and the time passes without me realizing it, until I hear the clicking of heels and footsteps as one of the group tours finishes, and glance at my watch.
“It’s lunchtime.” I realize I’m hungry—starving, actually, since I only had half a muffin on the way and coffee for breakfast. “I should go get something to eat. This was fun, though—” I stop short of saying we should do it again sometime, because it sounds like a foolish thing to say to this man, who I’m married to and yet hardly know.
“It was.” Alek looks at me intently. “I’ll take you to lunch.”
“You don’t have to do that—” I’m unsure if I want him to. Do I want to spend more time with him? I’ve put a lot of effort into avoiding him up until now. But this afternoon felt different. Things have started to feel different, bit by bit, ever since I told him the truth about the man who cornered me in the bar. And then there was the doctor’s appointment, and last night…
“I want to,” he says firmly, and I can hear from the tone of his voice that this could be another argument if I don’t say yes. I don’t like being told what to do, especially by him, but after how nice the last couple of hours have been, I don’t want it to end on a sour note.
“Alright,” I give in. “But I need to go up and get my purse, and log out of my computer. You can come up and see my office.”
Alek raises an eyebrow, but nods. “Lead the way,” he says with a shrug, and I head for the elevator.
“Close the door behind you,” I tell him as we walk into my office, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of someone walking past and seeing him. I’ve kept my work and personal life mostly separate, and the last thing I want is questions about my new husband. I’ve never had so much as a boyfriend show up to work, and a surprise, sudden marriage would open up all kinds of questions I’m not prepared to answer. Where did you meet? How did he propose? Why such a whirlwind wedding? All normal questions, but ones that would show just how unorthodox our relationship is—and all of the holes in it—so quickly that it makes my head swim just thinking about it.
I hear the click of the door as I walk to my desk, bending over to unlock the drawer I keep my purse in. I straighten, and I feel Alek just behind me the moment I stand up, so near that I can feel the heat radiating off of him.
I swallow hard, wondering how I missed him walking up. He’s so close that I can’t think, memories of last night rushing back, and as his hands drop to my hips I feel the air rush out of my lungs.
“We should go,” I whisper, and Alek leans in, his lips brushing against the nape of my neck. He pulls me back against him, and I feel the thick, solid line of his cock pressing against my ass.
“I changed my mind,” he growls against my skin. “I do want to fuck you at work. And I am hungry—but for you, I think, zhena .”
He turns me, one hand suddenly on the back of my neck where his lips were as he pushes me forward, bending me over my desk. “Grab the edge,” he growls, his fingers digging into the base of my neck, and his other hand slides under my hip, yanking at the button of my pants.
“Alek—” I gasp out his name, looking up towards the door. He locked it , I realize, and arousal throbs through me even as I twist in his grasp.
“I won’t hear no for an answer,” he murmurs, his voice thick and lustful as he pulls my zipper down. “And I think I’ll find that you don’t want to say no, either. Won’t I, zhena ? Won’t I find you dripping for me when I slip my fingers in your panties?”
When I don’t respond, he slaps his hand against my pussy, flat between my legs. Even through two layers of fabric, I feel the sting, and my clit pulses. “Answer me,” he commands, pushing my cheek down against the desk, and I let out a gasping breath.
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks heat, half with humiliation and half with lust. My husband, who half the time I think I hate and who hates me in return, has me pinned across my desk in my office, an inch from slipping his fingers into my panties and discovering just how wet I am. I was soaked the minute he kissed the back of my neck, the minute he bent me over the desk, and when his hand slides inside my pants and his fingers work their way under the lace beneath, I let out another shuddering breath.
His fingertips slide against my drenched flesh, and Alek lets out a groan. “So fucking wet, gertsoginya , You like being treated like my whore, don’t you? Made to come in your office, because this pussy wants me even when you don’t.” His fingers skate over my clit as he leans in, growling in my ear. “Your pussy comes for me whether you like it or not, zhena . And you’ll come on my fingers, my tongue, and my cock before I’m done with you, velikolepnaya devushka .”
His fingers roll over my clit as he speaks, fingering me roughly beneath my lace panties as he whispers in Russian in my ear, nudging his cock against my ass as his fingers move in tight, firm strokes. I’m close in a matter of seconds, his talented fingers and gravelly voice driving me to the point of no return, and I grit my teeth against a moan as I feel myself slip over the edge.
The moment I start to come, Alek covers my mouth with his hand, his lips pressing against my throat in a sucking bite as he grinds his fingers into my clit, prolonging my orgasm. I buck against him, feeling him grind his clothed cock against my ass, and I hear a folder hit the floor, papers spilling everywhere as I writhe and come for him.
The instant it starts to subside, he lets go of me, and I start to let out a squeak of protest. I barely get the first word out before Alek’s fingers hook in the waist of both my trousers and my panties, dragging them both down my hips as he drops to his knees behind me.
“Hold onto the desk,” he growls, his hands grasping my ass firmly as he spreads me wide, and I feel my face flame with desperately aroused humiliation. He’s kneeling behind me, with a full view of my drenched, swollen pussy and tight asshole, and when he leans in, burying his face between my legs from behind, I let out a shuddering, gasping sob of helpless pleasure.
He fucking devours me. I clutch the edge of the desk, biting my lip against the moans that threaten to spill out as his tongue lashes over my oversensitive clit, his fingers moving around to rub it as he thrusts his tongue inside of me. He licks and sucks at my clit, at my folds, nipping and biting and licking until I’m nearly in tears from the need to come again, and then his fingers move faster, rubbing feverishly at my clit as his tongue lashes against my tight asshole.
“I’m going to fuck you here,” he growls. “I’m going to fuck every hole you have, gertsoginya , until there’s nothing left for anyone else.” His tongue pushes into my ass, and I let out a helpless cry, biting my lip hard as I feel myself tipping over the edge again.
“ Fuck yes,” Alek growls, pulling back for only a second. “Come with my tongue in your ass, velikolepnaya devushka .”
What is happening? I’ve never been so thoroughly fucked. This man, for all that we despise each other more than half the time, for all that I don’t know what his secrets are or what danger he’s brought into my life, makes me come apart at the seams when he touches me—makes me want filthy things I’ve never imagined with anyone, makes me want him to defile me. I’ve done plenty of dirty things with the men I’ve fucked, but no one has ever touched my ass, and now Alek’s tongue is fluttering against me there as he rubs my clit, his thumb sliding into my clenching entrance as I let go of the desk long enough to clasp my own hand over my mouth to stifle my scream of pleasure as I come.
I can feel myself drenching his face, my arousal soaking him as I come hard on his fingers. He promised his cock, too, I think as another spasm ripples through me, and then Alek is on his feet, feverishly undoing the front of his jeans as he grabs me and flips me over on the desk as if I were a feather.
“Up on your elbows,” he ordered. “I want your eyes on my cock while I fuck you here, zhena . I want you to see what I do to you.”
He frees his thick length in an instead, throbbing with pre-cum pearling from the tip, and before I can get a word out he has the swollen head notched against my entrance as he spreads my legs wide, pushing my knees back to my chest. “Watch,” he orders again—and then he starts to thrust, his hands gripping my knees to hold them in place.
I’ve never seen anything as lewd as what’s happening to me in this moment. Alek is still fully dressed, as always—I’ve never seen my husband naked, I realize all over again as I stare at him—his gaze fixed squarely, almost reverently between my thighs as he pushes his almost-too-thick cock into me. I bite my lip hard, until I taste blood, to hold back my moans. I can see my swollen flesh stretching around him, and I feel vulnerable and exposed—and more aroused than I ever have been before.
“You said this was your place,” he growls, pushing his cock in to the hilt. “Now you’ll think of me fucking you like this, every time you sit here. You’ll think of me every moment of the day, zhena . No matter what you do, you’ll never be able to forget me.”
There’s a sudden, raw pain in his voice when he says those last words that startles me, that makes me look up suddenly to meet his eyes. They’re glassy and dark with lust, his whole body tight with the pleasure of thrusting into me, and they turn angry when my gaze meets his.
“Keep your eyes on my cock,” he snarls. “Watch me fuck you, zhena .”
He starts to thrust harder, papers sliding on my desk as he slams his cock into me again and again, groaning as he sinks as deeply inside of me as he can go. “God, your fucking cunt—” he thrusts again, and then pulls out, fisting his cock as he angles it lower.
“No—” I start to protest, fear rippling through me as I feel his swollen cockhead pressing against my tight asshole, but Alek isn’t listening. “Alek, it won’t fit!”
“Yes it will,” he growls. “I want every hole, zhena . I told you that. Fuck —” He hisses as his cockhead presses against the tight flesh, my arousal dripping onto his slick cock. He swipes his tip between my folds again, drenching it, and then I see his body go rigid as he suddenly thrusts into my pussy again, moaning.
“Fuck, I can’t—” His eyes go wide, and then he reaches for the front of my blouse, jerking it up and over my head as he thrusts once more, and I realize what’s about to happen. “Come for me, zhena . Fucking come?—”
The realization that he’s lost control, the sudden feverish look in his eyes that tells me he can’t last long enough to force himself into my ass, sends me over the edge. I’ve made this man come undone, this brutal, violent man, and I feel myself clench tightly around him, dragging him deeper into me as I fall back on my elbows and cry out, hips arching as I come hard on his length.
He pulls out of me, groaning as he fists his cock, aiming the swollen head at my breasts. I open my mouth to protest, only to feel the first hot spurt hit my skin as Alek moans my name, cursing in Russian as his cum splatters my breasts and arcs up to streak across my lips, painting my mouth and cheeks as spasms of pleasure wrack him again and again.
He grabs the edge of the desk with his free hand, shuddering, his breathing hard and fast. I look around as I start to come back to my senses, realizing what a mess everything is. My desk, my folders, me ?—
I’m covered in his cum, my work scattered everywhere, the edge of my desk slick from my arousal. I reach up, pushing Alek away from me, and he staggers backwards, looking as startled as I am at how quickly this all spiraled out of control. He tucks himself away with a jerky motion, doing up the front of his jeans, and he looks around as if looking for something to help clean me up with.
I hold up a hand, and for once, he doesn’t move or argue with me. I reach into a side drawer, grabbing a handful of tissues as I start to clean off my face and chest, and Alek just stares at me, something in his face that I’ve never seen before. I’ve seen moments of possessiveness in his face, that strange hunger that I’ve never fully understood—but he looks shocked, as if he’s surprised by what he just did. As if he truly lost control of himself.
He doesn’t move as I clean myself up and grab my shirt, standing up on unsteady legs as I move away from my desk and start gathering up the folders that spilled.
“Dahlia.” He clears his throat, finally. “ Zhena ?—”
“You had lunch.” I set the folders firmly on my desk with a loud slap , and reach down for my purse. “I’m still hungry. But I think I’d rather eat alone after that.” I give him a long, piercing look as I sling my purse over my shoulder. “I want you out of this office in five minutes. I’ll see you at home.”
For once, I’m the one that walks away, leaving him standing there in my office without another word.