Chapter Six
In which some children's murals are not even remotely soothing.
Oksana…
This moment would be so much better if I had a toy…
I'm lying in the precise center of my bed, staring up at my ceiling. Mother commissioned an elaborate mural for my bedroom when I was twelve. She thought sweet and whimsical images of woodland creatures would be soothing, that my nightmares would go away.
I slept with my head under my pillow from twelve to eighteen, when I left for college.
The creatures peering from tree branches and through foliage on the forest floor in my mural are extremely creepy.
I'll never be sure if the artist was mentally ill, or a drunk, but what he left was a series of freakish animals spread across my ceiling. Maybe it’s a Slavic thing, like I’d grow up to be a weakling if I didn’t have stern and scary animals to look at.
A collection of fluffy bunnies have long scaly legs, a chipmunk is snacking on something that looks less like a nut and more like a severed finger.
The two deer cowering in the bushes look horrified, maybe by my taste in reading material.
In all, a nightmarish collection guaranteed to traumatize any child.
If they hadn't already been traumatized by something much worse.
Right now, these forest creatures from an unpleasant alternate universe are killing my lady boner.
For the last two days, I've thought of nothing but Vadim.
The feel of his solid presence next to me at the dinner table.
His hands. Bozhe moy, so perfect. Men's hands are my kryptonite, and Vadim's are sublime, enormous, with long, thick fingers that handle silverware with the same grace I'm sure he has with a gun.
I wish I'd been reckless enough to lean closer and smell him, just breathe him in, so I could keep the scent of the amber and old leather.
My fingers are sliding under the blanket when the bear cub in the corner of the mural by the window catches my eye. His muzzle is open, eyes wide in desperation. He looks like he's screaming for help.
"Are you serious?" I groan, my hands covering my face. Back home in Chicago, I don't have a freakish forest mural on my ceiling and I do have a modest collection of sex toys in my bedside table drawer. A place where I could have a quiet moment to take the edge off.
"Fine. I'll just go to sleep." I curl up in my favorite position and… don't sleep.
Flopping on my back again, I look out the French doors at the curls of ivy twining around the iron railing. Did Vadim find me anywhere near as insanely attractive as I did him?
If he wanted me as well, he'd climb up to my balcony, slipping through the doors. I'd wake up and he'd be standing there at the foot of the bed. A tall wraith in a black jacket, watching me.
My fingers are between my thighs. Being forced to stay a virgin has done nothing but build my collection of smut. I have a very vivid imagination.
***
Vadim looks me up and down. "Take off your clothes."
My fingers are clumsy, but I pull my sleep shorts and tank off in seconds. Lying here naked and him fully clothed, just watching, is making me wet, shamelessly slick and I draw my knees up.
"Open them wide. Show me what's mine."
He rips his belt loose and swoops down, wrapping the leather around my wrists before flipping me over to face the pillows and tying me to my headboard. I'm on my knees with my back arched sharply, my legs spread wide. Vadim winds my hair around his fist, yanking my head back as I gasp
"How do you taste, devstvennik, virgin?" he murmurs. "Do you taste like how you smell?"
My head drops forward against the pillow as I moan slightly. I hear the rustle of clothing, and he moves to my side, letting me see him, his hand squeezing his cock.
"Should I lick you into coming for me first," he says, watching me tremble. "Or shove my cock into you, tearing you in half? Are you loud, or quiet? A good girl? Or a repressed one from years of your spirit being crushed under the thumb of your shit father?"
He spreads my legs wider until my thighs sting from the stretch of muscle and tendon.
Wider still and then, the feel of him pushing into me for the first time.
My channel is gripping him tight. I'm wet, but he's big.
Porn star-worthy big, alarmingly huge. My channel still resists him until he reaches the top of her.
I cry out, gasping and he slides his hand under me, squeezing my breasts, fingers tugging harshly on my stiff nipples. Looking down, I can see his cock, wet and glistening, driving into me. His big, rough hands, the one I've fantasized about, slide over my behind and he squeezes them hard.
"You're going to find bruises tomorrow," he whispers in my ear. "I'm watching your skin turn white under my fingers." Sliding his cock out slowly, he pauses.
"I'm done being gentle."
He slams back into me, and I jolt and cry out.
His cock is painfully thick, hammering into me so fast that his hips are a blur.
He's rough and unapologetic and he drives into me and the more I cry out, the more he seems to enjoy it.
An arm, thick with muscle, goes under my hips, hauling me higher and his cock hits differently, rubbing harshly against a place I've only found once or twice on my own.
"Ah, there you are," he purrs, his satisfaction dark and approving. "Arch for me, devstvennik. So good, so good for me. Do you want to come?"
I've got my sheets in a death grip, trying to find something that keeps me here.
I don't want to wake up if I'm dreaming.
Not this time. Every nerve ending, my muscles, even my skin are sparking like jolts of electricity are surging through me.
His hips hit me powerfully enough that I'd plow face-first into my headboard if his arm wasn't holding me in place.
Vadim's hard body surrounds me, his voice whispering in my ear, dark and dirty things.
"Beg for it, devstvennik."
My back arches and in a strangled little voice I do, I beg. With no shame because desperation eclipses pride. "Please, Vadim…"
My pussy squeezes him until he growls, tugging hard on my slippery clitoris and brings me over with him.
***
When I open my eyes, I could swear the vile little chipmunk on the ceiling mural has stopped eating whatever thing it was gnawing on and it's smirking at me.
My chest is heaving, I'm covered in a fine sheen of perspiration and my thighs are wet with my come. My entire lower half is throbbing, painfully sensitive.
I raise my hand, flipping off the chipmunk and I roll over, wet thighs pressed together and fall blissfully asleep.
Vadim…
I'm still painfully hard after jerking off twice to the sight of my bride pleasuring herself. Shutting my laptop and ending the camera feed, I glare at my rebellious cock, fingers squeezing it harder. If I don’t stop remembering every second of how Oksana looked, writhing and moaning with her fingers between her legs, my cock might never go down again.