by Raven Scott
Harsh pants rolled down between my breasts, held together only by the frail front clasp of my bra. My core clenched with expectancy as Sascha swiped the mushroom head of his cock between my slickened folds. Squeezing my eyes shut, I ground my teeth to block the needy, pathetic whimpers that dried my mouth.
Gripping my hips in clammy palms, Sascha surged into my channel with a guttural, thunderous growl. Pleasure welled from my eyes, and I clenched as my blood turned thick with it. His girth stretched my walls so nice while they undulated wildly. Stale air caught in my lungs, the purity of us, together, almost enough to stop my heart before he pulled back to thrust roughly.
Sascha was such a beautiful person, and he tangled a hand in my hair to hold us flush together. All I could taste was him as my lips brushed his shoulder. All I could feel was the burn of his body hair as he set a hard, grueling pace. Moans and gasps escaped the dense lump in my throat to dance with the slap of skin on skin.
God, I love him so much.
I couldn’t stave off my orgasm as this thought consumed me, and my eyes rolled back in their sockets. The shivers that raked my spine suddenly surged down my arms and legs. Clamping down on Sascha’s hard cock, pressure imploded between my ears. Jostling my body with each snap of his hips, he ground his hips against mine to ride my waves. His tiny, breathless moans caressed my neck until this experience of him became overwhelming.
“Oh—God!” Grappling uselessly at his shoulders, I buried my shriek in his musky skin. Tremors unlike anything I’d ever felt before locked my muscles in delicious cramps. Squeezing me to him, Sascha trembled against me as euphoria slammed into me. Beneath the pounding in my ears, his teeth ground, and I curled my feet around his upper thighs.
“Wow…” Sascha’s hoarse grumble sent a twitch through my cheek. His grip on me turned tendered with a slight shuffle of his feet, from a clutch to a hug that added weight to the tears clinging to my eyelashes. “Today was really not good for you, Oppie.”
“D-don’t talk—” My voice cracked harshly while my lips blubbered with a sob, as the certainty of the past four years seemed to slip from between my metaphorical fingers. As I asked, Sascha didn’t talk, but his hold, his breath, his everything spoke loudly enough. Do I love him enough to let him go?
12
Sascha
Stroking Ophelia’s face and pushing my fingers up into her hair, I inhaled a deep, stabilizing breath. Her softness against my body was comforting, but I could feel it— the tension in her. Watching the screen flicker as we sprawled on the wider-than-should be-legal sofa, I kissed the top of her head absently. “If you need to talk, Oppie…” Of course, she didn’t want to talk. If she did, Ophelia wouldn’t have jumped me. More importantly, she wouldn’t have cried afterwards because I sure as shit knew I wasn’t that good. “Does it have to do with whatever you found earlier?”
“Yeah…” Sighing heavily, she nuzzled my chest, curling up tighter against my side.
My brow furrowed in confusion, the noise from the television drowned out as I focused on her.
“It’s not what I found out… it’s more about what I thought more deeply on. My dad’s email. You’d have to be blind not to know he was cheating. I just thought—I don’t want to— lead us towards the lies, the resentment. I never realized how much my dad hated my mom. Vyachaslav Makovich forced them to get married. If you ever resented me for this life, you’d tell me, right?”
“Of course, I would. If you’re ever not worth it, Oppie, I’ll let you know immediately. What brought this on?” Despite this house, despite this conversation… this moment was peaceful. “You can talk to me about anything that’s worrying you.”
“The future worries me. It’s been worse lately. I can’t stop thinking the things I put on you… everything is so one sided when I really think of it. Now that everything’s going to shit. I just—I regret fooling myself into thinking you wouldn’t get dragged down with me.”
Pursing my lips thinly, I pressed my cheek against her crown.
Ophelia sniffled, wiggling a little closer, clutching a little more firmly. “No one would choose this.”
“I chose you, Ophelia.” There was something she wasn’t telling me, something she couldn’t physically get out. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her fingertips to my lips. Her goosebumps rose up on her legs, her skin bristling along my abdomen. “There is no this. There’s only us. You’re alone. I’m alone. We’re two alone people who aren’t lonely together. I love you. I don’t love the life you were born into, but the only person who can change it obviously refuses to.”
“I don’t want to do that to you, Sascha.”
Sharp, thin nails scratched my arm with the same gentleness that infected Ophelia’s voice. My chest ached at the furious undertones of everything she’d felt since Makovich was almost assassinated. It wasn’t her fault, what her parents did, just like it wasn’t my fault what mine did. “You’re not forcing me. Admitting there’s things I don’t like about my relationship doesn’t mean that. Not being able to grow because of Aleksander doesn’t mean you’re weak or a failure… he’s an asshole force of nature, and admitting you can’t change his course is acknowledging that this is a limit you can’t break. You say it all the time…he’s the most powerful man in Russia. There’s a reason for that, and you’re not incompetent for the cautiousness.” Pressing my lips to the backs of her fingers, I exhaled a heavy breath.
Ophelia stayed quiet.
I closed my eyes to remember what I was like when I was 22. It’s more difficult than I’d like to admit to myself. Nothing was certain back then; my parents were getting a divorce, but I was already at the University. I had less money than I would’ve liked to get by. Sometimes, I’d get stuck with insta-soup or one of my friends’ leftovers. My younger brother was in the States to be a doctor.
There was no way to say ‘everything turns out okay’ without sounding condescending, though. Ophelia didn’t have 20 Rubles hanging over her head with nothing but a childish dare between her and it. She had her very life at stake and it was entirely optional. If one eye turned away, so could she…
But that would never happen. Aleksander Makovich enjoyed his power. Pawns may be replaceable, but it was still a hassle. This was her only saving grace right now.
“… When I was 7, I went outside during a rainstorm because I wanted to play in the rain.”
Tearing me from my thoughts, Ophelia sniffled a little as my brows twitched in interest. She downright refused to tell me about her childhood, so I could only assume it was traumatic in some way.
She went on in a quiet voice, “My dad locked me out. He stood right there in the doorway, and I thought he was waiting for me, watching me. But when I tried to go back in, he shook his head. He didn’t let me in until my toes hurt from the cold. Finally, he told me, he said… ‘We’re Cherinivsky’s, Ophelia, and Cherinivsky’s don’t run around in the rain like poor brats with no homes to keep them dry’.”
The coldness in Ophelia’s tone sent shivers down my chest, ruffling the hairs before she took her hand from mine to smooth them. Pulling up the blanket, she smoothed that too, while my mind churned over her confession.
“Another time, Martin decided to flood the bathroom and pin it on me. I had to clean it all up by myself. The maids didn’t want to risk their jobs for me. Martin stood over me the whole time, making comments and telling me it’s what you deserve.” If it was possible, her tone got chillier.
I tightened my arm around her back in an effort to keep her warm.
“When I was done, my parents told me that they hoped it was a good lesson… that I learned something. And I did. Martin was the only boy, so he was the favorite. Nothing I did would ever convince anyone otherwise, and my only comfort was knowing that he’d fuck it up somehow, someday, so bad that he couldn’t blame it on me. And my mom…”
The venom with which Ophelia spat those three, short words gripped my whole body in anticipation. Her mother had always hated me so passiona
tely because she wanted to control Ophelia so badly. Honestly, I’d never found out the root of why and the time had passed to ask. Not that I’d get a straight answer, anyway.
“My mom despised me more as Martin and I got older. I was better than him at everything. I learned to swim faster. I had better grades than him. I topped him on Sports Day, and I made better friends easier than him. When I decided not to go to Uni, my mom was so relieved. And then… Martin flunked out. But hey, he’s still better than me because he tried, right?”
“… You’re alive, Oppie, and they’re not.” God, she felt frigid in my arms. Rolling over to hold her to my chest, I buried my nose in her hair. Even then, I couldn’t feel my damn teeth chattering.
“Love and live are one letter off,” she stated quietly.
“You’re making me feel really bad right now, so just stop talking, please.” My lips quirked up, and I squeezed her a little tighter. Pulling the comforter over us completely, I simply went back to stroking Ophelia’s hair. She didn’t warm up, but at least she wasn’t getting any colder.
I had enough information to keep my mind busy and my mouth shut. Ophelia’s home life was bad; I knew this already. If these were the stories she was sharing now, I couldn’t imagine the worst of them. There were always going to be things she wanted to keep secret. I respected this.
But this… whatever this was… kept wreaking havoc on her, and that wasn’t very easy. Maybe, Ophelia wasn’t as rock solid as she pretended to be. She was only 22 for fuck’s sake. A 22 year old with 22 years of experience in this. That’s about as long as I’ve had my degrees.
When things got broken down like that, it seemed overly simple. Ophelia had just as much experience in her field as mine. If only she were 15 years older, or I was 15 years younger…
13
Ophelia
Straddling Sascha’s thighs, I rubbed down either side of his spine with my palms. He was so warm, so sturdy. A tiny smile fixed between my cheeks. Sinewy muscles eased under my hands, his skin twitching when I leaned down. Conforming to his back, I soaked up his comfort; he wasn’t even holding me. I was just holding him, and it felt so wonderful. “I love you, Sascha.” Kissing the nape of his neck, I hummed softly. “I’m thinking… maybe I should open the second drawer of your nightstand for the first time since closing it…”
Regret…
“I would love if you did that, Oppie.” Craning his neck to look at me, Sascha smiled lazily. “I love you, too.”
Guilt…
My phone chirped insistently and a groan of foreboding tumbled out of my mouth. Reaching over to the heap of my clothes, I squinted at the brightness. A gasp of surprise escaped me, my brows rising.
Sascha propped on his elbows to twist, his face painted in curiosity.
I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth. Uncertainty flooded my veins, making my thumb tingle as I swiped the ‘Answer’ button. “Hello?” I held my breath as I scrambled to my feet, my phone burning the soft cartilage of my ear. “This is Ophelia.”
“Did you really find all this like this, or are you messing with me, Ophelia?” Aleksander Makovich chuckled.
I tensed as prickles raced down my spine.
He kept chucking. “You know…it’s been far too long since I thought something was just funny. Maybe, I’ll commission this into a play, so I can see it in action.”
“I’m— I—w-what do you want?” Perching on the ottoman, I held my head in my free hand and fought a sigh. “I have more time to—”
“You always have more time until it runs out, Ophelia. I gave you two months to prove your worth to me because I know you already have appointments that you can’t just move up. I didn’t just spit out a time frame. Relax.”
Aleksander Makovich telling me to relax only wound me up more tightly, and my back started to ache.
“Anyway… there is one urgent thing. This plot… It doesn’t seem like your mother or brother could draft it by themselves. Even with your father’s half a brain, it’s a little too sophisticated. I want your input, do you have any idea where they’d get some… inspiration?”
Long, nimble fingers wrapped around my shoulders and the base of my neck as I sucked in a sharp breath. Licking my dry lips, I leaned into Sascha’s hands to close my eyes. Every thought I could conjure flashed behind my lids. His warmth, his wonderful touch, combatted the icy tendrils slithering from my phone. Firmly kneading the writhing muscles under my skin with his thumbs, Sascha silently kissed my other cheek. “Erik Avernisk is the only one I can think of. You already have him, though, so why not just ask him?”
“He’s a world class liar. Even if I did ask him, I wouldn’t believe anything he said. Right now, he’s with Demitr and holding out, which is surprising. It’d be foolish of me to save face and not admit that I can’t read him…can’t tell if he’s lying to me. It’d be even worse to think I could trust what he said. You’ve known each other all your lives, Ophelia. Why are you so sure it’s him?”
My mouth dried at his brutal honesty, my lips falling into a deep frown. Aleksander Makovich… bad at something— the audacity! How strange it truly was to listen to someone like him admit he couldn’t do something. Slumping back into Sascha’s arms fully, I flopped my head back and moved my phone to my other ear. My heart beat slowed as he locked me in his secure embrace; in his arms, not even Aleksander could hurt me.
Of course, it helped that Aleksander was 700 kilometers away.
“Erik loves animals. Torturing him won’t get you anything, but…” Trailing off as sourness coated my tongue as I inhaled big through my nose. “I’m sure its him because there’s no one else. Everyone else is dead or too young to be able to do something like this. Even if it’s not him, why does it matter to you? Your best option is to replace everyone. You’ll never trust Erik and there’s no ‘maybe’ about it, Aleksander.”
“Replace everyone but you, you mean?”
I gulped hard at this, and Sascha’s arms tightened around me. Pulling me deeper into his lap, he buried his face in my neck. Just his mere presence comforted me.
Aleksander Makovich didn’t let me savor it as he went on, “I was thinking you’d be able to get more information, or at least, watch his interrogation. I’ve arranged for you to come to Saint Petersburg, your flight leaves Moscow Vnukovo Airport in 4 hours.”
“… I can’t just get a Skype call? How long is this going to take? Because I’m still sifting through my parents’ stuff and all assassination plots aside, I have to rework my Ukraine meeting in three weeks because they never screwed up what I predicted they would.” I don’t even want to think about this right now. I couldn’t have one day… one day!
My bland tone drew silence from the line.
“It’s easy to call me and have me fix problems, but I’m rarely on the proactive side, you know this. Two months and I—“
“Ophelia…”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up, and my heart leaped into my throat.
“Shut up and get here when you’re supposed to. Unless you want to end up next to your brother and parents, do what you’re told. You’re right, training someone new will be a hassle and a waste of time, but I have time. Do you?” Aleksander’s tone could cut steel, hard and low and crisp, not like he was grinding through his teeth because he was angry. No, this was something he did often enough to know the impact it had on everyone.
I felt the blood drain from my face, silence ringing in my ears when my own pulse nearly stopped.
“Unfortunately, I’m not in as good a mood as I was the day I killed your parents. Let me put this in terms you’ll understand.” He cleared his throat patronizingly. “Open your mouth unnecessarily, and you’ll have a hole through the back of it. Got it? Good. Someone will be waiting for you when you land to bring you to my mansion. Oh, and before I forget… Bring your boyfriend. I’m keen on finishing our conversation.”
My abdomen tightened as even the trilling vanished from my scope of comprehensi
on. “Y-yes…” Aleksander hung up, the short beeps sending jolts through my face. A powerful headache sprung behind my eyes, as goosebumps blanketed my entire body. What the fuck is going on? I blinked hard, gulping down the dense lump in my throat that made it impossible to breathe. My lungs screamed for fresh air.
“Oppie…”
The tender call made me jump and I whipped around with a strangled gasp. My hand flew for Sascha’s face but missed, my nails barely scratching the tip of his nose.
He didn’t even jerk back, his eyes widening.
I found enough mind to glare. Shock slackened his thickly stubbled jaw as my own clenched to grind my teeth.
“Why can’t you just…” Trailing off, I lost my train of thought under the sharp ache against my forehead, I slid off the edge of the sofa. My legs— I couldn’t feel them…
I couldn’t feel anything.
“Fuck…” Slurring heavily, I buried my hands into my hair to ease some of the pressure on my chest. It didn’t help; I still couldn’t breathe, and black spots assaulted the edges of my vision. “What do I do?”
At this point, I’d rather fucking die than deal with Aleksander Makovich. This was too much to put on my shoulders. I didn’t want to suffer through this anymore, and it’d only been a few days!
Why— why— why was I being subjected to this shit?
Gingerly, my phone slipped up along my fingers. The metal burned my fingertips, drawing my darkening gaze I dropped my phone carelessly onto the carpeted floor. Sascha wordlessly grabbed me. I couldn’t see his face— everything was black even as the smell of him sharpened in my nose. Struggling wasn’t something I had the energy to attempt.
Not that it really mattered when Sascha sat down to fold me against his chest with his legs and arms. Bundled up so small and safe, my brain finally puttered intently enough to expand my lungs. The scent of him flooded my system, my hard gasps and slight gags floating high above our heads. Shivering violently, I only managed not to black out by focusing on him softly kneading my scalp to ease the pressure on my skull.
