by Via Mari
He glances around at the open concept space. “Great view,” Matt says, gesturing out the living room windows which overlook Red Square and the high-rises that encompass Moscow and the Kremlin.
“Thanks, I sorta love it, too. I wanted a place city-center, right in the middle of all the action. I love the hustle and bustle of city life,” I say.
He looks at me and something flashes across his eyes, but then quickly disappears. “I know what you mean. It’s got a vibe about it that just energizes you, somehow makes you a part of it. I have a condo in downtown Chicago, right in the heart of things for the very same reason,” Matt says.
“Let me grab a pair of shoes for walking,” I say, heading toward my bedroom, slipping into a pair of low heeled boots. He’s looking out over the city when I return. The intensity of my desire for this man washes over me, and each delicious little tingle thrumming through my body has me on edge. I cringe at the thinness of my t-shirt, knowing he can see the hardened peaks when he turns to gaze at me, but I find that I can’t look away.
“It’s still there, that energy between us. You feel that Princess?” Matt says.
There’s no sense in lying. I’ve never felt something like this before, and I nod slowly. I may not have ever been interested in starting relationships and certainly am not now, but this thing between us-it’s exciting. “I do, why do you call me Princess?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Because you look like a princess and you hang out in a white ivory tower,” Matt says, gesturing at the view in front of us.
I can’t help but smile widely. “You know princesses aren’t always what they appear to be. Sometimes they are…” I contemplate, looking for just the right words.
“Disobedient and willful,” Matt says, finishing my sentence.
“I would have described it a little bit differently,” I say, pretending to pout.
“No, I gave you a direct order, and you made the decision not to listen, but instead to put yourself in danger,” Matt says.
“I took two of these men out. Don’t act like you couldn’t have used the help,” I say.
“I appreciate the fact that you put your own life in jeopardy to save mine. That was sweet Princess, really sweet, but also disobedient. If I had needed intervention, it would have been there. Come on, let’s go to a coffee shop and you can catch me up on everything. I hear you’ve had quite an adventure since we were last together,” Matt says, taking my hand in his own and guiding me out the door.
“Would you mind a quick stop? It’s on the way and I need to replace my phone.”
“Not at all, lead the way,” he says.
It’s a small shop and it doesn’t take long for them to replace my phone. We walk from the cell shop to the local café where we are seated at a high table at the back of the establishment. “What would you like?” Matt asks, as I slip out of my jacket and place it on the seat beside me. “Chocolate cappuccino, please.”
“Hmm, a girl after my own heart. I think I’ll take the same,” Matt says, requesting it in perfect Russian when the waitress comes to take our order. I look at him over the small table and meet his steely grey eyes. “Who the hell are you people?” I ask, and his eyes dance with delight.
“We’re the good guys, Princess,” Matt says, smiling widely.
“Oh, yeah, you wanna tell me why the good guy gets captured and held in a basement where the mafia torture people?” I ask, leaning in so only he can hear me.
“You first,” Matt says, gesturing to me with his head.
“I told you already.”
He levels me with his gaze. “Try again, Princess. I don’t like lies, and that one’s going to cost you, especially since it’s been told twice. I want the truth.”
“What makes you think I lied?”
“You said you were using and you’re not. Your skin is too clear, not blotchy from toxins or decreased circulation. You’re too healthy looking. Your hair shimmers and your fingernails have a healthy pink tint to them,” Matt says.
“You caught all that while we were hanging around?” I ask, giving him my wide-eyed look.
“Not all of it, but enough. The rest I see now and just confirms it. So, you wanna tell me what you were really doing at that bar and why those mafia goons took you?” Matt asks.
“I was curious. Perhaps I was hoping to find my father in one of his joints. I heard they had a package getting moved into Chicago and I wanted to catch him in the act. Should have known the bastard wouldn’t soil his own hands anymore.”
“Who’s your father?” Matt asks.
“I think I answered your question and it’s my turn,” I say.
He smiles widely at me and then shakes his head. “Okay, that seems reasonable to me,” Matt says to me as the waitress brings us our drinks. He takes a sip and holds it up. “Na zdorov’ye!” he says.
I laugh with delight. “All you tourists think we sit around drinking vodka and toasting like that,” I say.
He shrugs good humoredly. “I know better. You sit around toasting with chocolate cappuccino,” Matt says, his eyes twinkling.
“Better! Now, how is it that you know my language but live in America?” I say.
“Easy, it’s a prerequisite of our profession. We all know at least five or six languages and often more. Anything else you want to ask me?”
“Yes, what’s your real name and your profession? I heard them call you Prez, but then your men called you Matt.”
He contemplates for a moment, assessing me with those deep steely grey eyes of his. “I answer to both, depending on the job. You can call me Matt. Matt Benagert.”
“Okay,” I say, taking a sip of my steamy drink.
“My turn,” Matt says.
“Sure,” I say, swirling my tall mug to mix the chocolate before taking another sip.
“How did you really find yourself in that basement?”
“Hmm. Wrong question. That one I can’t answer. How about if we finish our drinks and I give you a little tour of our amazing city,” I say, smiling as his grey eyes narrow at my obvious attempt to circumvent his question.
“Fair enough, Princess, but I am a persistent man,” he says, and I have no doubt that he is. He pays the waitress and he takes my hand as we step outside into the fresh air. We spend the entire day leisurely making the tourist rounds on the cobblestone steps surrounding Red Square, taking in the architecture of St. Basil’s Cathedral, a church in the square with onion shaped domes on the top of the building, all in a variety of colors that are topped by high reaching crosses and stopping for a bite to eat and drink midday and to rest.
Matt is animated and engaged while we tour the rest of the city in the afternoon, continuing our walk to Lenin’s Mausoleum which covers an expansive area of one side of the square as we continue to walk, before we reach the Kremlin in all it’s architectural glory before dusk falls and we enter one of my favorite restaurants.
We’ve finished a dinner of shashlyk, chunks of grilled beef marinated in pomegranate juice, and are enjoying our drinks. He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his own. Every time he’s touched me, taken my hand, put his arm around my shoulder or waist, guided me in one direction or the other with a light touch to my lower back, it has sent thrills of warmth and electricity through my body. I feel like I have been on edge all day, thrumming with this newly found current.
He’s watching me with those steely grey eyes and I can feel my face flush as he talks to me. “When you were there next to me in the basement, I could feel our energy, your desire. You feel the same thing I do, your nipples are getting hard just from the touch of my hand stroking your palm. I want to take you home and care for all your needs, Princess,” Matt says.
My father has ruined me for all men. I may let them get close enough to talk to me, try to satisfy me here and there, with a kiss or a touch, but never close
enough to get my clothes off, or let my guard down. Matt has seen me at my worst. He knows the real me better than anyone else I’ve encountered. He’s seen and felt my fear, my weakness and the attraction is so palpable, so undeniable, but at my age, the fact that I am still technically a virgin is embarrassing.
I decide to go with honesty. If my condition is a turnoff and not what he was expecting, then better to know now, before we go to the trouble of getting undressed. “I guess taking me home depends on your sexual preferences. Experienced and great in the sack or a virgin with no experience and only unclaimed desires.”
Matt watches me for a moment and I see the slight twitch of his jaw before his eyes go smoky and his hand reaches across the table and his finger lifts my chin. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin, Princess?”
“I’ve played a bit, never really got there by the hands of anyone else, but no one has ever entered me. I guess it’s just never been the right time for me,” I say, not telling him the thought of being that physical with a man, someone that could use me like all the men who used my sister, has made me more than cautious. This feeling, what he calls energy, it’s just too much though.
He throws a handful of Russian paper bills down on the table. “Let’s get out of here, Princess,” Matt says, guiding me out of the restaurant.
Matt
My Russian princess is a virgin. I take a moment to think about that, and what it means to me and my cock hardens letting me know he’s there. She may have played a bit, but not one other man has ever claimed her, taken her and made her their very own. The reasons why are a bewilderment to me, but I fully intend to find out.
My dick has been on fire to get inside of her since the first time we met, and still is, but I now have a much greater need. One to find out why my princess is still a virgin and ensure that her first experience is everything it should be.
“We’re almost there,” Marenah says as we zig-zag between people on the streets, making our way back to her skyrise. I guide her into the building with my hand on the small of her back and the doorman smiles at us, muttering something under his breath about young love as we make our way to the private elevator that literally floats to the top floor. When we reach it, she swipes her phone across the keypad. “So glad to have my phone back for so many reasons,” she says.
“You talked to your sister?”
“Just for a sec while you were in the restroom at the cell store. She knows I’m okay. I still don’t understand why your man wouldn’t let me connect with her sooner, or how you knew she was my sister, but it is of no consequence. She was thrilled that I’m safe but wants to give me the big sister lecture for even being in that bar,” Marenah says, rolling her eyes.
When we enter her condo, I pull her to me, watching as her eyes turn murky with desire. So quick to respond to me. I press my lips to her forehead and smooth her hair back from her face and just breathe her in. The attraction between the two of us is like nothing I have ever experienced, and while I want to go slow with her, my body craves hers. I want to touch every smooth inch of her. I stroke her cheek and run my finger along the softness of her full lips and am rewarded with the warmth of her breath as her mouth parts in desire. I caress the side of her neck and let my fingers find her pulse as my tongue seeks more, exploring her seam until she parts for me again letting me kiss her lips and explore her sweetness. I could completely get lost in her, but I need to go slow with her.
“Princess, I don’t want to rush this,” I say, sealing our kiss and letting my lips wander.
My finger brushes gently against her delicate cheek bones, still marked from her encounter with the hand of a dead man when I find him. My lips continue to travel, suckling the delicate skin of her velvety soft neck and she makes the softest sound, a little purr of delight as I travel, breathing her name into her ear. Her whole body softens and I pull her against me, molding us together, reveling in how her body fits so perfectly to my own as I continue to nuzzle her while my cock hardens against her softness.
One more little purr from her as my lips travel up and down the creamy column of her neck, sucking her harder, tasting the sweetness of her skin, pleased with the way she writhes against me as I mark her. I want to go slow, but the need to feel her is almost primal. I kiss her lips again, and she clasps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, letting me know her desire and willingness. My hands trail down her body, cupping her equisitely shaped breasts, so firm with nipples that are hardened with need. I let my fingers graze over the tips that are straining against the soft thin material of her t-shirt and my cock hardens even further at the sound of her whimper.
I slide my hands down her long sleek waist, let them explore the curves of her hips, and then settle on her firm round ass. I grasp it with my hands, cupping her cheeks, pulling her against me so she can feel my desire.
“I want this with you, I’m so ready,” Marenah says as quiet as a whisper, and with that I slide my hands lower, lifting her into the air.
“Hang onto me,” I instruct and she steadies herself as I carry her to the bedroom, her arms locking around my neck and her ankles clasping around my waist. I lay her on the bed and push her hair back from her face, taking in the faint hitch in her breath and the rapidness of her breathing. My little princess may be able to hold her own with a bunch of tough guys, but she’s nothing but softness and sweet smelling vanilla in the bedroom. I stroke the shell of her ear with my tongue, letting it explore as her nipples further harden into peaks that my fingers can’t resist stroking.
She moans softly and leans into my touch. I need her undressed, to see her spread before me, and I have an innate desire to be the first man to bring her to orgasm. I help her remove her t-shirt and murmur my appreciation for her choice in lingerie. “So hot, Princess.” A white lacy bra with a clasp in front reminds me just how virginal she is. I kiss the small valley between her breasts, but I am greedy and need to see what I’ve fantasized about since the very first time I saw her. I slide my finger over the clasp, glancing up at her.
Her eyes are riveted on mine and the blue of her eyes is smoky with desire, and my cock throbs painfully inside the constraints of my jeans. My fingers stroke over the clasp again, giving her a chance to change her mind, but she doesn’t. Instead, my princess gives me the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen and I take that as consent and push against the clip.
The weight of her breasts, small, high and firm, naturally part the material, allowing me to gaze at her pink nipples, hardened and needy. I kiss one with my tongue while squeezing the other, rolling the delicate flesh between my finger and thumb until she moans with pleasure and I make my way down her tight little belly.
When I unclasp her jeans she tenses, but I didn’t need the reminder to go slow or to be gentle, because I want to take my time unwrapping and cherishing her. “It’s okay, Princess, we’ll go nice and slow,” I say, unzipping the material to slide it over her curves, past her thighs and pulling her pants off to expose her long gazelle-like legs and the lacy white panties.
I kiss up her legs, one then the other, stroking the curve of her calves and slowly make my way up those deliciously long legs, licking along her inner thighs and nuzzling against her lacy covered pussy with my nose, until she is nearly panting with need. Only when she grasps the comforter, and moans softly, do I relent, slipping a finger into each side of her silk and lace trimmed panties, sliding them past her delicious curves and down the length of her legs to expose her neatly trimmed mound.
I look up at her as I make my way south and just the warmth of my breath against her pussy causes her to push her hips slightly, silently letting me know that she’s ready for me to teach her and I want nothing more than to do that very thing. I nuzzle her mound with my nose, slide down, and push her legs apart indecently, watching her closely as I do. Her eyes close and then open with undisguised embarrassment, but she isn’t able to hide the desire that lurks there, too. I
t’s too palpable and such a mirror image of my own that I would recognize it anywhere. I hold her gaze as I dip lower, allowing my tongue to touch her clit, and she raises up, shocked at the sensation. “Just feel, Princess, let me teach you about pleasure,” I say, letting my tongue wash over her as she softly moans, causing my dick to pulse with need.
I want to explore every inch of her, sliding my tongue over her soft velvety folds, wet with desire and longing and so very sweet. I do it over and over until she is writhing with need. Only then do I wash her clit with my tongue, soft firm strokes that leave her panting with each pass, frantic with need and begging me not to stop. I draw her little bud into my mouth and suck hard sending her into a spiraling orgasm that causes her to buck against me and scream my name over and over until the waves have finally subsided.
When she stops quivering the look of embarrassment she has on her face realizing that my face is still between her open legs is priceless. I know she wants to close them, but I want to taste the cream I’ve created and keep them spread with my hands. “Princess, I think you owe me dessert,” I say, licking down her wetness and dipping into her creamy center. She moans, and my cock throbs hard with desire, but I know it’s going to have to be satisfied with my hand because tonight is not the night.
When I take her, she will have a night worthy of the princess she is, but when her hips raise with need, as I let my tongue find her entrance, I have to will myself to keep it together. And, that’s precisely what I do until she starts squirming against my tongue, giving me even more access to the sweetness I desire as I drive into her virginal spot over and over, bringing her over the edge again, panting my name as she comes all over my tongue for the second time tonight.
