Chapter 12 - Viktor #2
This is on me. I let her amiable response to my mother lull me into a false sense of security. Her guard dropped for a while there, but it wasn’t necessarily for my sake. It doesn’t seem like it, if the palpable barrier between us now is any indication.
I’m going to have to break the ice.
I can do that. Nadya’s done plenty tonight.
But how?
“Thank you for that,” I finally settle on. The words sound lame.
“Wasn’t for you. I liked her,” she dismisses.
Nadya doesn’t even slant a look in my direction. I know, because I’m fucking waiting for it like a dog with a bone.
“I figured.”
It’s better than her saying I felt bad for her. That’s something.
Even my acquiescence is sardonic. My compliance is transient.
All it takes is a single insistent tug on a loose thread, and the entire fucking tapestry of this Gentleman’s Night Out unravels.
Beneath it is who I’ve always been—the monster Nadya Yuri can condemn.
Selfish and ruthless. And so, so fucking greedy for not just any piece of her, but every fucking piece.
Who the fuck is she to deny me? And for whose sake is she doing it?
A reeling mind and a fickle hand are all it takes. I jab at the fire-engine red emergency STOP button. In the span of a blazing breath, I have her trapped. Nowhere in the dam of emotions that breaks across her ethereal features is there a drop of indifference.
“You liked her,” I breathe, letting the hard ridges of my torso press her into the corner of the elevator. “It must fucking kill you that you’re seeing me differently. That the family you’re so terribly loyal to doesn’t, in fact, know everything.”
The vicious anger casts shadows across her face. Does she even know she’s got her hands fisting in my shirt? I forget how tiny her skull is until my hand slips into frayed silver and wraps around the back of it. My thumb caresses the warm bone behind her ear.
“You feel something for me, Nadya. It’s just us here. You and me. You can admit it to me. You should. What’s one more secret in our pile of them?”
“I hate you,” my wife insists, almost whining.
I can see that she hears it in her voice.
She recoils against the shame that shrouds her, rearing back from me.
Only, there is nowhere to go. All night, I’ve let her go.
I have let her slip away from me, to take a beat and a breath and whatever else the fuck she’s needed.
But it goes nowhere. It is the same vicious circle she’s spiraling in.
I’m fucking over it.
My hand drops between her legs, cupping her through her jeans. “Does this sweet little cunt hate me, too? Or just you?”
Her thighs clamp around my wrist, a pained whimper spilling from her parted lips. “Don’t,” she says through clenched teeth. Her hips have a mind of their own, bucking into my touch.
“Is that what your pussy wants, baby?”
“Fuck off,” Nadya gasps.
Neither of us can deny the needy little whine she tries to detain when my hand leaves her mound. “Don’t worry,” I coax, unsnapping the button to her jeans. “I know how to give you what you need. You remember, don’t you?”
Her panties are fucking soaked. Her nether lips are plump beneath the thin cotton, parted and dripping for me.
Some part of her definitely remembers.
Who needs hard liquor when I have the hitch in Nadya’s breath to get drunk on? It is the high of my fucking life to hear the involuntary, needy cry of my name from her lips.
“Do you hate me, or just yourself, Nadya?”
If there’s an answer I was going to get, I never find out. It’s incinerated on her very tongue by the first syllable. I shove her panties out of my way, impatient to find her pretty cunt, yet ruined to find her pliant and slippery beneath my ministrations.
I bury my groan at her crown. I lay a kiss there, breathing her in.
“Pretty girl. So hard up for me, you can’t fucking stand it, can you? Tell me, have you been this fucking soaked all night?”
I don’t need her to put it into words.
Oh, I dare her to try to hide it. She won’t succeed. She can’t.
Every drop of her arousal is mine, and I’ll rip apart however much of her fucking control as I need to in order to take it.
It’s adorable how she tries adamantly to keep her mouth shut, as if I don’t bear witness to the way she strains to swallow her breaths before they can bloom into moans.
She can’t swallow the hiccup of pleasure when my fingers slide against her slit. She can’t deny her gasps when they curl inside of her, stretching her to my whims, or the way she helplessly shudders against my cock, rocking fucking hard against her belly.
Her pussy clutches around my fingers, her tight walls quivering as I build her up. I learned my way around her body. I know she hasn’t forgotten the ways I took the time to make her scream.
I welcome the searing sting where her fingernails break skin at my abdomen, scrambling for a grip that doesn’t fucking exist. Not on my watch.
Not with my thumb playing through her folds, stroking them, spreading them. It traces its path to where she stretches around my fingers: thin, but resilient tissue.
I’d drop to my knees and taste her if I could bear to leave behind this look on her face.
There is nowhere for Nadya to hide as I take her apart.
Long before her cunt ripples with the admission, she is mine.
It feels, for all the world, that she’s never not been mine.