Lara
Chapter Eighteen
D mitri had made it clear that he was taking me out to dinner tonight, and under no circumstances was I to remove the butt plug from my body until he decided to do so himself.
The damn thing had been a constant presence since this morning, and while the initial discomfort had faded, it still felt intrusive, especially with each movement or when I sat down.
I ran a brush through my hair, smoothing out the soft, golden strands, before making my way to the closet to select something elegant to wear.
Upon returning to the bedroom, my eyes fell upon an exquisite emerald-green cocktail dress laid out on the bed, accompanied by a pair of delicate silver strappy heels.
There was nothing else—no bra, no panties—implying that my attire for the evening consisted solely of the dress and, of course, the plug.
As I held up the dress, the rich green fabric shimmered under the light, revealing its form-fitting design with a built-in bra and a daring high slit that rose to mid-thigh.
I slipped the dress over my head, feeling the smooth fabric glide down my curves before fastening the luxurious silk bow at the back of my neck.
The ribbon cascaded elegantly down my back, a beautiful detail that demanded to be showcased.
The dress fit like a dream, hugging my body with the precision of a tailor’s touch—just as every garment Dmitri had ever chosen for me had.
Deciding to highlight the intricate bow, I swept my hair up, securing it to reveal the graceful lines of my neck and shoulders.
Pleased with my reflection, I left the bedroom, my heels clicking softly against the hardwood floors as I made my way downstairs to find Dmitri. As I descended the final step, a resonant male voice, deep and familiar, reached my ears from behind.
“Lara, you look exquisite.”
The words froze me in place, a chill prickling the nape of my neck as recognition stirred within me. That voice—undeniable and unsettling—stirred memories as his footsteps resounded on the polished marble floor, drawing closer until I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin.
“You look good enough to eat.” His hands found their way to my waist, pulling me against his firm chest as his lips grazed my exposed shoulder, whispering, “So sweet.”
“Uncle Ivan,” Dmitri greeted with a slight nod to the man who had just moments ago had his hands and lips on me. “I didn’t expect to see you this evening. If I had known you were coming over, I would have canceled our dinner reservations.”
“Nonsense,” Ivan waved dismissively, his voice smooth and confident. “I only came by to chat with you about an important matter. It shouldn’t take too much of your time.”
“Certainly. We can talk in my study,” Dmitri offered, gesturing toward a dimly lit hallway. “Lara, why don’t you wait for me in the library?”
“It was nice to finally meet you, Larissa. Hopefully, we’ll get to know each other better,” Ivan said with a sly smile, leaning in to plant a kiss on my cheek that lingered uncomfortably close to my ear. “Yummy,” he whispered, his breath warm and unsettling.
I held my breath as Ivan disappeared with Dmitri into his study, feeling a chill run down my spine.
Dmitri’s uncle wasn’t one of the men who sat at the dining room table, yet he bore the same ominous skull tattoo inked on his hand.
It was as if I had been transported back home, where that same haunting voice echoed in my mind—a voice I could never forget.
I paused outside Dmitri’s study, straining to catch snippets of their conversation, but only muffled voices reached my ears, indistinct and frustratingly vague.
Realizing I wouldn’t hear anything useful, I turned on my stiletto heels, the sharp sound echoing in the hallway, and headed to the library as instructed.
As I swung open the heavy doors of the library, my eyes immediately landed on a decanter of amber liquor sitting on an end table between two plush chairs.
Leather and aged books perfumed the room.
Dmitri didn’t approve of me drinking, but knowing who was responsible for my mama’s death warranted at least one drink. Maybe two.
By the time Dmitri entered the library, I was on my third drink; the alcohol buzzing through my veins.
I was drunk, yet not nearly as intoxicated as I desired to be.
I downed the rest of my drink in one swift motion, the liquid burning my throat, and walked as gracefully as my inebriated state allowed toward him, seething hatred simmering beneath my gaze as I stared up at him.
“Your uncle Ivan was at my house the night of my mother’s murder. He put the damn bullet between her eyes,” I cursed, my voice trembling with anger as I pounded my fist against his chest. “You might not have pulled the trigger, but you knew exactly who did.”
He gently pulled my fist away from his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around mine. “You’re drunk,” he said, his voice calm but firm as he pulled my glass from my other hand.
“Not even close,” I retorted, yanking my hands free from his grip.
“I will deal with you after dinner,” he stated, steely resolve in his eyes as he took hold of my hand and guided me out of the dimly lit library. The room’s shadows seemed to cling to us as we moved, the air heavy with tension.
Stepping out of the grand mansion, a sleek black Mercedes greeted us on the circular drive.
Its polished surface gleamed under the fading light, reflecting the grandeur of the estate.
Stepan stood by the opened back passenger door, his posture rigid and formal and his expression as serious as ever, as if a smile might shatter him.
As we stepped into the elegantly decorated restaurant and approached our table, my eyes scanned the dimly lit space, not expecting the sight that met us—a couple waiting at our table, their presence unexpected. I had expected only the two of us this evening.
“Dmitri,” the man greeted warmly, extending his hand with a genuine smile. “You remember my wife, Lisa?”
Dmitri shook his hand firmly and then turned his attention to the man’s wife. I stood quietly beside him, my fingers intertwined with his, a polite smile plastered on my face despite having no idea who these people were.
“Clay and Lisa Osbourne, I’d like you to meet my wife, Lara,” Dmitri introduced smoothly, releasing my hand and instead resting it gently on the small of my back.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lara,” Lisa said, her voice friendly as she offered her hand, which I accepted. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thank you,” I replied, my smile slightly strained but courteous.
We all settled into our seats just as the waiter arrived, carrying a bottle of wine that I surmised Clay had thoughtfully pre-ordered. As he poured each of us a glass, I wasted no time taking a large sip, savoring the rich flavor, needing the extra boost to get through this night.
“You better slow down, kukolka . You don’t want me to punish you later,” Dmitri warned, his voice low and intimidating as he leaned closer.
The conversation soon veered toward Dmitri’s latest ventures, notably his nightclub, Raptor, which was news to me, along with his other enterprises. While Dmitri and Clay delved into business talk, Lisa and I listened with polite interest.
“So, Lara.” Lisa turned to me, her eyes sparkling with friendliness. “A few women gather every Saturday for coffee at the charming old coffeehouse on Park Avenue. We’d love to have you join us.”
“I would…” I began, formulating my response, but was abruptly cut off.
“Right now, Lara has her hands full planning the wedding,” Dmitri interjected smoothly, drawing my gaze sharply toward him.
“I thought you two were already married,” Lisa remarked, pausing her fork mid-air before gently placing a delicate piece of tender salmon into her mouth.
“We are,” Dmitri replied with a convincing smile. “But I thought it would be nice to give Lara the wedding she has always dreamed of.” His lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly.
Before I could interject, a pulsating hum ignited in my core.
The sudden sensation caused me to grasp the edge of the table, knuckles flaring white.
I darted a glance at Dmitri, his face bearing a smug grin that made him look like a cat who’d just cornered his prey.
The vibration intensified, and a low moan escaped my lips, unbidden.
His hand found its way to my bare thigh, his touch searing my skin.
Of course, he had maneuvered me to sit to his left, granting him unfettered access to the slit in my dress.
His hand slid between my legs, fingers tracing the line of my damp, slick folds. The room grew hotter as he dipped a finger inside me. I pressed my lips together tightly but my body responded, hips jerking forward ever so slightly.
“Lara, are you all right? You’re all flushed,” Lisa chimed in, oblivious to the storm raging within me. Her eyebrows were drawn together in concern.
“I’m… fine,” I managed to stammer, as Dmitri inserted another finger, the vibration inside me growing more insistent. I bit down hard on my lower lip, trying to suppress the moans of pleasure threatening to escape. My grip on the table loosened, my hand finding its way to cover Dmitri’s.
“Excellent choice on the wine, Clay,” Dmitri commented casually, as if his fingers weren’t dancing inside me.
He curled them slightly, hitting that sweet spot, and increased the vibration once more.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. My grip on his hand tightened, eyes fluttering closed as waves of pleasure crashed over me, drowning out the rest of the conversation.
The vibration ceased, and I pulsed around his fingers, coating them with my release.
When I finally opened my eyes, I was grateful to see Clay and Lisa engrossed in Dmitri’s praise of the wine, none the wiser about my private turmoil.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” I breathed, pushing Dmitri’s hand away from between my legs. My voice was barely audible, my breath still ragged.
“I’ll come with you,” Lisa offered, already pushing her chair back.
Clutching my intricately beaded clutch, I rose from the table with a sense of urgency and trailed behind Lisa toward the ladies’ restroom. The moment we stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind us, I released a muffled scream of frustration, the sound echoing slightly off the tiled walls.
“That bad, huh?” Lisa suggested knowingly, positioning herself beside me as she expertly applied a fresh layer of deep crimson lipstick to her flawlessly contoured lips. Her presence was almost intimidating.
When Dmitri had first introduced me to her and Clay, I couldn’t help but admire—and perhaps envy—her striking beauty.
She had the kind of allure that could belong to a high-fashion runway model, complete with lustrous hair that cascaded down her back, a sculpted body, and features that seemed almost too perfect for reality.
“Yeah,” I admitted without a hint of modesty, lifting the hem of my elegant dress to reveal the butt plug to Lisa, a flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks when I looked at her and saw her reaction. “Wait, you knew. I’m so embarrassed.”
“That’s nothing. And don’t be,” she chuckled, her laughter bubbling up as she placed a manicured hand over her mouth to suppress it.
“Once, Clay took me to the opera and had me kneel in front of him for a blowjob while there were people just in the booth beside us. The only thing separating us was a curtain, and if they had decided to draw it back, they would have witnessed everything. We weren’t exactly quiet. ”
“How long have you two known Dmitri?” I inquired, my curiosity piqued as I wondered how close she was to him.
“I haven’t known him long. Clay, however, has known him for much longer. They were schoolmates,” Lisa confessed. “Dmitri actually saved my life. My father is a very influential man.”
“Oh my God. What happened?” I turned toward Lisa, my attention fully captured by her story.
“I’m not entirely sure of the details. Most of the time they kept me drugged.
One moment I was getting into my car, and the next I found myself being dragged into the back of a van.
Clay reached out to Dmitri, and three days later, he rescued me and dealt with my captors.
Since then, Clay insisted I have this,” Lisa explained, lifting her dark, glossy hair to reveal a small, faint scar nestled near the curve where her shoulder met her neck.
“It’s a tracker. Clay always knows where I am. ”
“A tracker?” I murmured to myself, startled by the sound of my own voice echoing in the quiet room.
“Yeah. You probably have one too. It was actually Dmitri’s idea,” Lisa replied nonchalantly.
I turned my back toward the mirror, my heart pounding, and shifted the ribbon that adorned my neck. My fingers sought the small scar where Dmitri might have clandestinely inserted a tracker beneath my skin.
“There it is,” Lisa said softly, guiding my finger over a tiny ridge on the back of my neck, a barely perceptible blemish that betrayed its presence.
That fucking bastard. No wonder he found me with little effort when I fled from the boutique. He had been tracking my every move.
“Well, that’s good to know. At least I know I’ll always be safe,” I lied, forcing a smile past the lump of anger and betrayal lodged in my throat. The moment I had the opportunity I was determined to rid myself of the insidious device.