24
With hands on the Russian
I asked Nikita to lie down on the massage table, saying that I need to change my pants.
It was a half-truth. I also wanted to call Aleksa.
I entered the room and put the speakerphone on so I could change at the same time.
He sounded a bit rushed when he answered.
”Yes, boss?”
”Am I interrupting? Were you sleeping?”
”No, no, not at all, I just had the phone charging. Is something up?”
”I was calling to check on the progress of Nikita”s report.”
”It”s moving slowly; Andrey is a damn vault.”
”Did you expect less from him?”
”No, but... he”s worse than me, barely talks.”
”Then we”ll have to loosen his tongue. Take him to the bar, tell him you need to talk about Dante, make sure you”ve got your story straight with him, I don’t care what you come up with, but get him to go along. Get him to drink, to do drugs, or if necessary inject him with sodium pentothal, I have some in the office. Whatever it takes, but make him talk. I want to know what my wife is hiding and I want that information today. Is that clear?”
”Yes, boss.”
”Good. I expect you for breakfast tomorrow, and you better bring the answers I need.”
”Don’t worry.”
I changed my pants and underwear. The wine had soaked through both. I should have talked about Adriano earlier, or in a different way. Sometimes I struggle to find the right moment. The important thing was that I had said it and she couldn”t accuse me of having hidden it from her for too long. She didn’t take it too badly, considering how things ended up with Irene at La Marca. That neck spasm saved me from possibly having a limb amputated.
There was still something about her that threw me off, kept me on my toes, yet drew me in like a moth to a flame.
I had a serious problem with my wife, and it was that I didn”t want to be burned. There are matchstick women and bonfire women, Nikita was a goddamn post-apocalyptic fire, and laying my hands on her body would turn me to ashes.
When I entered the spa, the first thing I saw was her sculpted body. She hadn’t bothered to put a towel on her bottom. Why would she? After all, I had seen her naked more than once and she seemed to enjoy showing off her nudity. I would never forget the image of her stepping out onto the balcony topless to say good morning.
Her arms were positioned so that her forehead rested on the back of her hands and her face was nestled in the hole.
I went to the speaker and asked it to play a song that reminded me of my wife. ”I Feel Like I”m Drowning” by Two Feet.
I took the bottle of oil from the cabinet that I used when I called my masseuse, and the first chords started to flow.
I reached the side of the massage table and turned on the infrared lamp, focusing on the area. I made sure to turn off the rest and turn on the micro LED lights on the ceiling that emulated a starry night sky.
”Relax,” I murmured, moving close to her ear. ”If I hurt you, let me know,” I said, earning a feminine ”uh-huh.”
I poured a stream of oil between my hands to warm it up. My eyes lingered on the vision of her clear nape and undulating spine.
You keep dreaming and scheming in the dark.
Yes, you do.
The male voice filled the room. The oil was greasy and spiced. A family recipe provided by Ana María, made from herbs, plants, and natural essences.
You”re a poison and I know it”s the truth.
All my friends think you”re vicious.
I placed my palms on her shoulder blades, and she let out a sigh of relief as soon as I kneaded the area with my fingertips. Her skin was soft, smooth, and her muscles were extremely tense. It was no wonder she had complained; it must have been painful.
And they say you are suspicious.
I smiled when I heard the phrase, even the song was warning me. She let out a pained whimper when I pressed on the affected area. It wasn’t that I had applied too much pressure,
rather she was just really tense.
”Do you want me to ease up?”
”No, on the contrary, I like it like this, I would even appreciate a bit more strength, if you can manage.” I pressed my finger down and ran it over the knotted area, guided by her breathing. ”Mmm, just like that, that”s it, don”t hold back.” I swallowed with the same intensity that I pressed. I wasn”t sure who was having a harder time, probably me.
You keep dreaming and scheming in the dark.
Yes, you do.
I worked the muscle contraction until I felt it start to dissolve, or rather, it seemed to have caught the moving truck to settle into my trousers.
I feel like I”m drowning.
Ah, drowning
”I”m going to work your entire back,” I informed her, spreading my hands to reposition them.
”Work whatever you want, you have glorious hands. You weren”t exaggerating.” She smiled.
”Do I have free rein to work you all over?” I asked mischievously. My finger traced a line along her ribs.
You”re holding me back and
embracing me.
You”re killing me slowly.
”Of course. My physiotherapist in Saint Petersburg used to say that the whole body is connected, that a shoulder imbalance can come from a bad hip position, that we tend to become unbalanced, so you can massage me from head to toe.”
”I”ll take note.”
I moved my hands down from her shoulder blades to the sides of her chest, then back up again to her spine. She let out a little noise of pleasure.
”If you ever get tired of being the heir of the Capulets, you could lose yourself in a resort on some small tropical island and give massages to needy rich women.”
”Are you suggesting I should offer them a happy ending?” I joked playfully.
”Well, that depends on how much money you want to make, but a guy like you would be in high demand.”
”Like me?” I reached her lower back. I tried not to look at the curves of her buttocks, but it was impossible to ignore them; she was too attractive.
”Are you looking for more compliments?”
”I just want to know how ”my woman” sees me.” I drew out the last two words, savoring them.
”Arrogant, cocky, despotic, cynical, sexy, with a good squid between your legs and skillful with your hands. Is that enough for you?” The mention of a squid made me think of that morning and my need to get into the jacuzzi to finish what she couldn’t with Mr. Retractable.
Very slowly, oh-no.
I feel like I”m drowning.
”You”ve become damn handsome, clever, and captivating,” I heard her chuckle softly. ”Any objections?” I asked, giving her a light bite at the base of her spine. She didn”t respond.
I shaped my hands to cover her cheeks fully and kneaded them with fervor. That was her, a damn delirium.
Ah, drowning.
I didn”t want to get involved with the next move, I already had enough with ruined pants. I poured oil into my hands again and began tracing circles on her hips, moving down her thighs and reaching her feet. I spent some time running my knuckles
across the soles and massaging her perfect little toes.
Nikita had her legs slightly apart and seemed to have no intention of closing them. I shouldn”t have looked between them, in fact, I wasn”t going to. Or was I?
”Shine,” I commented, attracted like a magpie internally. It was the first thing that came to mind when I noticed her center. She was excited, aroused, wet, and it was because of me.
”Don”t be a moth,” the little voice in my head warned. ”Why not?” ”Because she”s going to turn you to ash, Nikita is highly flammable and you just need a spark from that woman to blow up.” ”What if I want to burn? What if for once I want to taste the wildness of a woman made of fire and explode?” ”Well, then, I just hope you have a hose ready before she incinerates you.”
I ended my inner debate and began the journey back.
This time, I poured a generous amount onto my palm, closed my fist, and let the oil drip along the line that marked the twin jewels of the Russian crown. Nikita sighed, and my cock was about to burst. I rested my right elbow at the border and slowly rubbed between her buttocks. Up and down, massaging the skin that was opening up. Her legs spread even further apart. I worked her with my entire forearm, and when my wrist reached the base of her buttocks, I let my hand slide in as if it were butter. It was like a karateka delivering a strategically loaded strike. My pinky was my secret weapon, delving deep into a path that promised to reach a great lake.
A slight tremor shook my hand when I reached the coveted moisture that had nothing to do with the oil running over our bodies. It was a different thickness; I had just reached the point of no return. Her legs continued to spread, offering me the possibility to continue, and my fingers ventured into the feminine lips, rubbing them, clamping down on the lower lips and clitoris to stimulate every damn nerve ending.
My woman gasped, and I knew this was as far as it would go. She was too tempting, too haughty to back down.
”Turn over,” my voice was hoarse.
If I expected a no in response, I didn”t get it.
She turned slowly to avoid locking her neck, her pupils eclipsing the iris, covering the green pasture with darkness.
I navigated her challenging gaze. I could read an implicit challenge in it, no barriers, just a ”do you dare?” drawn on it. I sealed it as soon as I lifted the bottle of oil over the valley of her breasts and let the liquid drop down to flood her navel.
The song had ended, giving way to Christina Aguilera, who wanted to turn me into the Genie in the Bottle. Could I fulfill my woman’s wishes? And more importantly, after doing so, would she set me free or would I remain trapped forever?
Nikita bit her lip and arched her back, pushing her breasts upward. My fingers started at her stomach, sensing every inch of goosebumped skin up to her solar plexus and heart. Neither of us broke eye contact. The air escaped through her parted lips, and her breathing became more erratic as I reached her collarbones. I spread my hands to either side to encompass the upper chest area.
No words were necessary, only feeling, observing, delving through the senses into the person on the other side of the barrier flowing in her own battlefield.
I gently palpated the sides of her neck up to her jawline. The red tint of the lamp gave her the appearance of a delicious caramel apple filled with poison, an angel from Hell come down to Earth to take me with her once tasted.
”Keep going,” she whispered, planting her elbows to lift her body and bring her mouth level with mine.
”And La Marca?” I didn’t want her to accuse me of using some trick to keep her.
”The only mark I want right now is the one from your teeth on my skin. I want to displace those three skulls.” My cock twitched as her nail traced it. ”They say a marriage isn’t valid until it”s consummated. Are you ready to consummate ours?”
”And you? Are you ready to consider us something more than enemies?” The corners of her mouth lifted, signaling danger.
”Why don”t you find out?” She grabbed my neck, licked my lower lip, and sucked it in.
”You asked for it.”
I lifted her in my arms and carried her straight to my bed. Her punishing mouth fused with mine. Her kisses were even more maniacal than I remembered. Only our altered breaths could be heard, the splash of tongues before reaching the mattress.
Nikita looked at me wickedly and gestured for me to take off my pants.
”Take it off,” she ordered, with her knees bent and her pussy exposed.
I didn”t think to argue. I shed it and dove between her thighs to besiege her.
She wrapped her legs around my neck, letting me savor each lick. The gasps overlapped with my growls, there was no calm left, only passion, fluids, and saliva. I sucked on her lower lips and she gasped. She pulled my hair against her center and rubbed herself like a bitch in heat. Nikita was not restrained; she was an explosion of fireworks on the coldest night of the firmament. I looked up and savored. There was no more beautiful spectacle than a woman surrendered to her own pleasure. I brushed my beard against her clitoris and she crystallized. A shiver ran through her from head to toe and made her collapse into my eyes.
”I don”t want to come in your mouth, or on your fingers, this time... I want you inside. I want the full pact; I want to drag you in my climax.”
She spread her thighs even wider and violently pulled my hair, making me crawl over her. She tasted her flavor in my mouth and relished it.
”Fuck me now or forget about me forever.”
I plunged in violently, without asking for permission, because it had already been granted.
We made love to the skin, the body, and the soul. With Nikita, there were no half-measures; it was all or nothing, light or darkness, the sharpest ice or the most scorching fire, and now I was being consumed in her blaze.
She was not born to be chosen, but to choose. I would never see her bow her head, for she was one to lift her chin. Noes had no place in her universe, where she ruled her realm.
I pushed, she gasped, I gasped. I bit my lip as her sharp nails dug into my back. Her tongue licked the roses on my neck. Nikita could erase every gram of ink on my body, wear me down so much that there was only space left to tattoo her soul on my skin, an invisible, indelible mark that would accompany me through the remains.
I lost myself in the sway of our desire, in my thrusts that swallowed body inside, squeezing me, drowning me, leaving me breathless.
I don’t even know how she managed to turn me over, but she became an Amazon. She rode me freely, intensely. I grasped her nipples and pulled on them, watching her gasp in pleasure. With our gazes immersed in unrestricted delight.
I didn’t want it all to end in a tangle of sheets and hair pulling. I longed for more, needed more, unsure if I would ever be able to share such communion with another person again.
Certainly, it was incomparable to anything or anyone.
I trembled as the flesh of her hips sunk between my fingers. I dived wrapped in liquid silk. I matched every bounce of her flesh against mine until she screamed, dragging me in her oath of fluids, orgasm, and release.
I filled her, she filled me, and I fell exhausted into her dark universe, where gravity is not determined by force, but by the weight of a surname.