Chapter 11
11
Dmitri
I pull Leah into the house before she starts grinding on me in front of her bodyguard. Once the door is safely closed behind her, I can breathe again. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing.” She grins and reaches for my zipper. “That’s the problem.”
Her grin is fake, though. Something’s wrong.
“Leah…”
She takes off her hoodie, kicks off her flip flops and shoves down her sweatpants.
My heart skips several beats. I take in her long, smooth legs and her barely-there pink nightie and the way her nipples poke through the satin. My cock hardens painfully fast.
I lift Leah in my arms again and press her back against the door. “You do want to get fucked, don’t you? That’s why you put on this sexy little nightie for me?”
She moans as I suck hard at the base of her neck. Her legs fasten around my waist and we rut against each other like teenagers, dry-humping. Her sweet gasps are desperate.
I force a hand between us, reaching for her pussy. Her panties aren’t much more than a string, easily pushed aside. She’s wet like I hoped. I switch to unfastening my pants, shoving them down just enough. No time to waste.
“My girl wants fucking?” I mutter.
“Yes, please yes.”
“Then I am up for the task.” I grit my teeth as I slide into her wet, gripping heat. “It’s a sacrifice I’ll make for you.”
“A—sacrifice—hmm?” Her indignant words fade into a moan. “Fuck—so good, Dmitri.”
“I know, baby. We’ll do it fast this time, then slow next time.” I stroke out, then back in again.
Leah whimpers and rocks up and down, using her legs around my waist as leverage.
“Rub your clit. Make yourself come on Daddy’s dick, baby girl.”
She reaches between us. I can tell when she makes contact because her pussy tightens around me.
“Fuck, so good,” I breathe against her ear, fucking in and out of her, chasing an orgasm that’s just a few strokes away. “Better come soon, baby.”
“I will, but—” She breaks off.
I continue thrusting. My balls slap against her with every stroke. “But what?”
“Dmitri—” She gasps, pushing back against my chest. “I lied.”
Her words don’t penetrate my skull. She isn’t saying stop , no , or red . All I can think about is my impending orgasm. “Are you safe-wording?”
“No, but I lied to you.”
“Don’t care. Come on my cock.” I want to start thrusting into her again. But I force myself to stop and take a breath. “Actually. Fuck. Hang on.”
I pull out of her, but keep her in my arms so our faces are at the same level. “What’s going on, baby girl?”
“I put this nightie on for Gage—and he’s—he’s—” She stops, bites her lip, looks down. “He’s not around anymore. He’s avoiding me.”
“He’s an ass.”
She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, then sets it free with a sigh. “I came here because I was mad, but I don’t want to use you. I need to fuck you, but I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want to use you.”
I kiss her forehead. “Thank you for telling the truth, Leah. Also—you can use me. Anytime.”
“Are you sure?” She wiggles against me, her chest heaving because she’s breathing hard. “Because I’m still really turned on.”
“That’s my girl.” I laugh and rub the head of my dick over her entrance. “You’re sure you want this now? With me?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She takes my face in her hands and kisses me. “Please fuck me now.”
I slide into her silky heat with relief. With her legs wrapped around my waist, she pulls me closer, farther. I cup her ass to help move her up and down. She feels incredible—she always does. My sweet Leah, my sexy girlfriend.
“Dmitri—” Her cries of pleasure fill my ears. “Yes—right there.”
I’m going to blow, soon. Need to get her there first. “Come, baby girl.”
“And you’re not mad?”
“Not at you.” I thrust up again, holding back my orgasm by a thread. “I’m a little mad at Gage. Let’s show him what he’s missing. Once my come is dripping out of your sweet pussy, we’ll take a photo and send it to him. Come for me now. Right fucking now.”
“Fuck, Daddy—I’m—I’m coming—” Her pussy clamps down, squeezing me in tight little pulses.
I chase her over the edge, my balls emptying, white-hot pleasure shooting from me and into my girl’s cunt.
I keep hold of her, not putting her down. I press my forehead to hers, then I pull back just enough so I can look into her eyes. “Leah.”
She raises her gaze to mine. Those dark gold flecks in the blue of her eyes remind me of stars. She pushes at me until I’m forced to let her go, then she stands before me, leaning against the wall for balance. “I’m sorry.”
“I want more than an apology. We need to talk about this. You wanted me to fuck you because you’re mad at Gage?”
She lowers her gaze to the floor. Nods. “I’m so fucking sorry. Really.”
I can’t help myself—I laugh.
“What are you…” Her eyes are suddenly sharp on me, bewildered. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m going to love being in a relationship with you and another guy. Every time you get pissed at one of us, you’ll fuck the other’s brains out.”
“You ass.” Smiling, she picks up her hoodie and throws it at me.
I capture it. Silky fabric tumbles from the large front pocket. “What’s this?”
“Um.” She turns pink with a blush. “Scarves.”
Warm satisfaction rolls through me when I guess the purpose of the scarves. “For tying someone up? You wanted Gage to tie you up? But now you want me to do it?”
She nods and looks down.
“Put your hands behind you, baby. You manipulated me with sex, and now you’re going to get punished.”
It turns out, I lied about fucking her slow after fucking her fast. I fuck her fast again.
And again.
And then one more time. I give her orgasms until she’s begging me to stop. She’s sobbing, telling me she’s sorry, that it’s too much pleasure and we’ll talk next time instead of fucking. Then I give her another orgasm.
So I lied about fucking her slow. But I didn’t lie about sending a photo to Gage. She spreads her pussy lips so I can get a close-up of my come leaking out of her. I snap the pic and hit send .
As soon as it’s done, Leah lets me clean her up. I leave her in the nightie because it’s too fucking sweet to take off of her, but I wrap her in a blanket and hold her on my lap.
I rub a hand up and down her back. “So talk to me. For real this time. You’re mad at Gage?”
She nods. “He’s avoiding me.”
“No, Leah?—”
“Yeah, he is.” She covers her face with her hands. “I called him because I figured stuff out. Sort of. I found this old diary, where I’m mad at Peter and saying I’m never getting married. Because that was what marriage looked like to me, you know? So dysfunctional. Toxic. And I realized that’s not how it has to be. Like, even I could maybe be happy someday.”
“You absolutely can.” I take her hands away from her face and kiss her fingertips.
“But it took me too long to figure it out, because Gage is done.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I think—he probably doesn’t want to be with me anymore, but he doesn’t know how to tell me.”
My heart aches for her. “No. That’s not the problem at all. I think he’s going through some shit.”
“What do you mean?” Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “He’s going through some shit? How come I don’t know about this?”
I’m not sure how much to tell her, but at this point, Gage has hurt her. He never told me not to say anything. “Harvey Billings showed up at Low Vice last night.”
“He did? That fucking asshole.” She sounds angry, surprised. She sounds like she wants to sharpen a knife or ten. I’ve spent my life in fear of my sister—but maybe Leah is the real danger.
“Yeah. They talked. I don’t know what it was about. He changed afterward, Leah. His whole mood, his whole demeanor.”
“He talked to Billings.” She sighs. “I wish he’d talk to me.”
“He will, baby. He will.”
* * *
Gage
I slept at Low Vice. I didn’t even go to the separate rooms. One of them has a bed, but I didn’t use it. Instead, I slumped against my desk.
Now it’s Monday. I can’t do another day of this. It’s no way to exist, avoiding the girl I love, the guy I love her with, and our potential for happiness.
I sit up in my desk chair and turn on my phone. A notification is waiting for me—a text from Dmitri. I unlock the phone to see the message. No words. A photograph only.
Leah’s cunt, swollen and used.
They’re taunting me, trying to bring me back in the only way they know how.
I need to be there for them. I need to be better for them.
A quick call to Chelsea, my therapist. Several hours later, I’m walking out of my emergency session. It cost triple the usual rate and I’m an emotional wreck afterward. But I keep hearing Chelsea’s questions: “Who are you helping by pulling back? Leah? And would she agree with this help ?”
No, she wouldn’t.
“And do you think,” Chelsea asked, “that maybe Leah would want to help you, instead?”
She would.
I need to tell Leah everything. Dmitri, too. They have to know who I am, how it shaped me. I’d rather ignore it, shove it into a box and bury it in the back of my mind forever. But as the past two days have shown me, that’s impossible. The trauma comes back when I least expect it, and I’m forced to deal with it.
I have a choice. I can deal with it in a healthy way, or a harmful way. Two nights ago, I chose harm. No more.
As soon as I step out of my therapist’s building, I take out my phone. There’s another missed call from Leah.
She’s been trying and trying, and I’ve made myself unreachable and unhappy.
I call her back, but she doesn’t answer. I watch the cars whizzing past on Caro Boulevard, listening to the ringing tone, until I get her voicemail. She never personalized it once I gave her the new phone—we thought it safer to have a robot’s recorded voice.
“Leah. I’m sorry. I’ll say more when I see you. Call me as soon as you can. I’m coming home. I—I’ve missed you.”
She’s probably working. I can’t remember if she’s at the after-school program today, or doing her individual sessions. I’ll head home and wait for her there. I’ll make dinner. Something she likes. Maybe ramen.
I signal to my bodyguard. “We’re going to the grocery store. I need to pick up some things for dinner.”
I’ll get flowers, too. Her favorite ice cream. Anything and everything to make up to her for being a total ass.
I’ve missed my girl. I’ve missed myself, too. I’ll be glad to have us both back. Together.