by R. J. Lewis
I don’t think of it. In fact, the second I see it I look away and pretend to sort through my purse. It’s a weak attempt to distract myself because all I have is a few pieces of gum and some loose change.
Vlad gets up and leaves, tending to the older man. They talk about finalizing a payment for a car, and I try to pay attention, anything to keep my eyes off Nikolai. Which is silly, because he’s standing here for me. His presence is impossible to overlook.
He comes closer, running his hand down my hair, lifting my chin up to look at him. He stares down at me with those bottomless blue eyes, his thumb rubbing against my lower lip.
His amusement is gone. His face is heavy with a look I’m familiar with, and damn, I love seeing his want for me crack through his clear expression.
I just don’t understand it.
“Time to go,” he tells me, his thumb nudging between my lips. I bite at it gently, my eyes bright with humour, but he doesn’t smile. He doesn’t look amused at all. He looks like a man trying to be restrained, and I worry for my poor body. In a matter of hours, it will be deliciously sore and weak.
“Night, Niko,” Vlad calls out, a mischievous lilt in his voice. “I hope you have a stimulating evening.”
Nikolai smiles wickedly, without tearing his eyes off me. “I will.”
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the shocked expressions I see on those girls’ faces when I leave with him.
Chapter Twenty-Three.
Nikolai
Fucking Alina is always new.
I always get that rush. That heady need to be inside her body and pleasure her, watch her face as it comes undone, feel her body quake just before she gasps, moaning my name between her soft little lips; lips I can’t stop thinking about since she wrapped them around my cock and swallowed my release.
She doesn’t get far into my apartment before I have her pinned against the wall. I attack her lips and run my hands everywhere, squeezing at her hips, cupping her smooth ass, my skin thirsty for her touch. My sole mission is to be inside her, and I don’t spare a second. Her shorts are off, her panties torn and discarded, her top strewn somewhere behind me. She’s got nothing but her bra on, and they’re bunched beneath her breasts, bouncing with every thrust I deliver.
I fuck her hard against the wall, her legs spread apart, my hands wrapped around her thighs. I fill her with every thick inch of me, until she’s writhing, hands in my hair, crying out my name over and over again.
Yes, say my fucking name.
Every time it falls from her lips, I feel myself growing tighter. My heart clenches painfully, like she’s dug her hand into my chest and gripped that muscle whole. I growl, kissing her lips, tasting her tongue, delirious with need, with the urge to send her over the edge, over and over and over…
She squeezes my cock as she comes, and I slow to savour the look on her face. She holds my gaze unsteadily, her swollen lips red and trembling, her cheeks flushed pink, her breaths quick and hard.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell her.
Her eyes always light up when I compliment her, and she kisses me again in response, like she’s thanking me for it.
Still inside her, I carry her into my bedroom. Then I flip her on her hands and knees, and this time there is no reluctance in her. She spreads herself and waits, fisting the sheets, her sweet pussy visible from where I stand. She’s slick and wet, a sweet paradise I can’t get enough of.
I grip her by the hips and, without pause, I slide inside her, a groan torn from my lips at the burning pleasure.
I move slow so she’ll feel every bit of me. I love watching my dick disappear inside her. She’s so tiny, I don’t know where the fuck it goes. My fingers dig into her hips, and I slam into her a little harder, pumping into her without restraint. She makes this gasping sound, like I’ve triggered something within her. I do it again, and she shakes against me, grinding back.
I go hard and slow like that, until she grips the sheets and comes again, and then I begin to really move.
My movements are frantic. I fuck her until I’m about to come and then slow down to keep myself from tipping over. But I don’t want to come like this. I want to see her face when I do. I want to be able to reach her lips with my tongue as I bury myself deep inside her.
I flip her on her back and take her, watching her face as it twists in pleasure. I can feel my balls smacking against her, can hear the sounds of our bodies slapping together, growing louder and louder and then… I still, coming hard inside that slick channel, her walls tightening around my cock.
Fuck, it’s good.
It’s always so fucking good.
The pleasure doesn’t leave for a very long time. I kiss her lips, mesmerized by their softness, and then I open my eyes and look at her. My fingers trace her pink cheeks, and I marvel at how steady they are, not a tremor present.
Alina is quickly becoming my only form of release.
This fucking girl with that special something I can’t explain.
My fingers fall to her neck and they wrap around that gemstone, and for a second, my throat is too thick to swallow.
I let go and move off her. I keep my arm wrapped around her waist, determined to keep her in one place. I don’t want her gone. I’m tired. My dick is sore. But still I’ll spread her legs apart and take her again.
Because I know she would just leave if I don’t fuck her.
*
“You work for anyone else before Ivan?” I ask her after another round. She’s spent and languid on the bed beside me. I’ve learned when she’s relaxed she’s more susceptible to talking.
She shakes her head. “Nothing long term.”
“Small jobs?”
“Mm.”
“Like?”
She inhales and stretches her body, her tired eyes barely open as she looks to me. “Small jobs here and there. I had Scarlett so I did babysitting jobs for the neighbourhood mothers for a while.”
“Not good money.”
“No. Terrible money. I felt so guilty. There were three women, all single mothers, working and trying to provide, and I felt like an asshole when they gave me money at the end of the day.”
“But you looked after their children.”
“Yeah.”
“So you earned the money.”
She looks thoughtful, like she’s back there, revisiting it. “Yeah, but they gave me food to feed them. One let me babysit all the kids inside her apartment too, and the kids trashed it, but she never cared. She was just happy I was there to help. It wasn’t really that much work. It was the best way to look after Scarlett, you know?”
I smile softly at her. “You’re giving.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Noo,” she drags out. “I was looking after my own interests too. If I could provide formula and diapers for Scarlett without having to shoplift them, then I was doing okay.”
I frown picturing her struggling with a newborn. “How many times did you shoplift?”
“Enough times,” she responds vaguely.
“And your mother?”
She sits up slowly, already getting ready to leave. “Who knows?” She shrugs, shuffling her hair so it fell down her bare back. “My mother liked to find every answer to life at the bottom of a bottle. Now she’s run off again, probably finding more answers in different ways. I mean, you met her, didn’t you?”
I nod slowly.
“I wonder why you thought she was okay for a loan.”
“It wasn’t her first time around. She’s pawned and sold items before. There was no reason to suspect she would drop off the radar the way she did.”
“She spent the money on her addictions.”
“Business isn’t personal.”
She scoffs. “I got that part.”
Ah, a dig. “If I conducted business to help the poor, I’d lose everything, Alina.”
“I know,” is all she mutters in response.
She gets up and I follow
her to the front room where I threw her clothes off. I gather her clothing before she does, and then I help her into her bra, slowly clasping it behind her. I’m taking my time for selfish reasons. I know she has a sister to go home to, but I wouldn’t have minded more time.
She doesn’t look me in the eye as I straighten the straps from the front. Her cheeks flush lightly, that timid side of her a complete contradiction to the one that writhed and begged in bed earlier. I like that about her.
She takes the shorts from me this time and slides them on herself.
“You sure you don’t want to go again?” I ask her lightly, a ghost of a smile on my lips.
Alina’s brows shoot up. “I don’t think I can keep up with you, Nikolai. You might need another girl to fill the spot for all those extra rounds.” She says it jokily, that smile proving so, yet she still looks at me, waiting for a response.
I humour her, more edgily. “Is that what you want? To split the time with another girl?”
She shrugs, fixing her top that’s inside out. “That’s your prerogative.”
I feel the vein at my temple pulse. “Yeah? Would give you time to relax then.”
She nods, still working on that top. “Yep, it would.”
“I might then.”
This time her fingers tremble, and her face heats more, but I know it’s out of anger this time, though she fights to hide it well. “You do that, Nikolai.”
“Won’t bother you?”
“No,” she says, but even I can hear the hitch in her voice.
Would it kill her to be honest?
As she works her shirt over her head, I hear the sound of her stomach grumbling.
“Hungry, rybka?” I ask, already scanning the kitchen behind us. I could make something quick.
“No,” she says, a little icily.
She stands there for several moments, and I wonder what she’s waiting for. Then she looks at me, and I read that look well and I feel like a fucking fool. Locking my jaw, I go to the kitchen and grab the envelope sitting on the counter.
I shouldn’t be worked up. It’s just business.
Approaching her, I hand her the bloody envelope and she takes it, dropping her gaze from mine as she shoves it in her shorts because her pockets are too small. She steps away from me then, and I know right then I’ve been discarded. A man without further use. Just another job for her that’s been completed.
Forcing the distance between us, she paces to where her sandals are and slides into them. Then she grabs her purse and hurries to the door. “Good night, Nikolai,” she pushes out without batting me an eye.
She doesn’t give me the opportunity to say it back before she’s gone.
*
Alina doesn’t see me for three days, and I don’t come by the store either.
I think we’re testing each other. Looking to see who will break first. I can’t say I’ll last much longer. My tremors are already returning and my need to be inside her is raging through my system, begging me to seek her out.
I fight it, though.
She’s the one that needs the money, and I’m just using it as an excuse to fuck her. I should have known this was going to happen.
I think of Vlad’s words, and they echo through me sharply.
You observe. You taste. You get hooked.
But this kind of hooked is fiercer than all the violence I’ve committed in the past combined. It’s a deeper kind of obsession. The kind that makes me want to delve into this girl’s mind than her body.
It’s a dangerous thought, especially if the want is a one-way street.
*
I break first.
Because I’m pussy whipped and tired of fighting a losing battle.
I twirl the cigarette between my fingers as I lean against my car, waiting for her to come out.
She opens the door, the chime in the air heard from where I stand. She waves goodbye to the bastard Benji and then she looks forward, about to take a step when she sees me. She stills in surprise, eyes locked on mine.
We look at each other, no words exchanged. No wave or hellos. Nothing.
We don’t need words or gestures to communicate. We already know what’s lurking in each other’s eyes. It’s the reason I’m here, and it’s the reason she’s about to follow.
After a long moment, the surprise drops from her eyes and she lets the door go. I turn away, not bothering to see if she’s coming. I know she is. I know she’ll be at the passenger door by the time I’ve made it around to the driver’s side.
I unlock the car, open the door and slide in. Alina’s already inside before I am. She shuts the door and buckles her seatbelt, staring out the window instead of me. But I know her by now. She’ll wait for me to concentrate on the road so she can sneak glimpses at my face. Then she’ll fidget in her seat, crossing her legs and uncrossing them, waiting in anticipation for what’s to come.
She tries.
It’s sad how hard she tries.
But Alina sucks at lying.
Chapter Twenty-Four.
My life’s a balance of time at home with Scarlett, work, and then getting fucked by Nikolai in every position possible.
The days start to bleed into each other like that, and never during that time am I found ripping my heart out, stressing over bills. It feels surreal. I manage to pay off everything I’ve been in arrears for. I also upgrade some house things like bed sheets and pillows (and having new pillows is a heaven you can’t put a price on). I buy some toys for Scarlett, and I find a button at the shops that I give to Roberta to sew into Rumple. He’s got two eyes now, and Scarlett acts like he’s a brand new Rumple. To me, his second eyeball represents a new beginning.
She starts school in a couple weeks, and I can’t help but already stock the closet with crayons and colouring books. Every morning for breakfast I make her do a page in an activity book I found on clearance for 5-6 year olds. She traces a different letter each day, and she gets really good at it.
The money builds, and I keep expecting it to change me, but it doesn’t. I don’t turn into a spender, or a girl with manicured hands carrying shopping bags around, looking disgustedly at those less fortunate than me. No, I don’t change in any way. In fact, I find myself counting pennies more.
I know I should indulge. I know I’m in need of decent clothes and maybe even a haircut. But…I can’t do it. As in…I physically am incapable. The poverty mindset cannot be shaken. It lingers inside you, even long after you’re past it.
Every time I want to buy something, I stop myself and think of how desperate I have been to get to this point. That struggle is still so present within me. I literally get the shakes, avoiding a purchase like it’s going to ruin everything I’ve worked for.
I try not to let it take over. When it comes to Scarlett, for instance, I’m more than happy to spend money on her. I never count pennies when it comes to a new top or a piece of chocolate at the store. I never think twice about it.
So why is it different with me?
I hope with time I’ll ease out of it. Not just for my sake, but for Scarlett’s too. I’d hate for her to pick up my stingy money habits.
When I’m not spending time with her, I’m spending every other evening at Nikolai’s apartment. He learns every inch of my body and fucks me hard every time. I come like a rocket over and over again. Then I get dressed and get out of there when we’re done. I don’t stick around, though every bone in my body longs to linger. I don’t want to get comfortable.
I’ve put Nikolai in one corner and the rest of my life in another. It’s the only way I can keep everything balanced inside of my head.
But nights are always the hardest. There is not an inch of my body I don’t feel the tingling touch he’s left behind. I convince myself it’s just the routine of life that’s made me feel this…sinking feeling when I leave his apartment. I know it’s not anything else, because I don’t give it a chance to become anything else.
The more I feel it, the more d
etermined I am to prove that feeling wrong.
*
I’m sitting in Nikolai’s office. I’ve just gotten off work and made my way directly to his pawn shop. Vlad let me in without a word and I’ve been sitting on the leather black couch while Nikolai’s been in and out, mostly talking on the phone. Twice I’ve seen him collecting envelopes from people who’ve come by. He deposits them in a safe inside one of the cupboards of the kitchenette. He doesn’t even hide it, either. Just does it in the open like it’s completely natural, and I know his trust doesn’t extend to just anyone.
It kind of makes me feel good.
“I might rob you,” I joke after he’s closed the safe.
“You’d be the sexiest little bandit to ever do so,” he replies, smirking.
I pretend to watch the television as he returns to making phone calls, and every time I think I’m invisible, I sneak a glance at Nikolai only to find him watching me.
He talks in that native tongue of his, tracing his lower lip, getting heated in whatever he’s saying and his eyes are pinned on me the entire time. It makes my blood run quicker. The voyeuristic side of me wants to drop to my knees in front of his chair again and give him another blowjob, this time hearing the ache in his voice as he tries to talk on the phone.
But the shop’s too alive at the moment for that, and Vlad proves it by coming in just then, carrying two jewellery boxes in each hand. He drops them on the coffee table in front of me, and then proceeds to take a seat next to me. He has no regard for personal space, I can tell. I scoot a bit away from him, watching at the same time as he opens the boxes and removes two stunning Rolex watches. The faces are magnificent and big, and I can’t help but lean my head down to inspect them just as he is.
“Were those just pawned?” I ask.
He gives me a quick glance. “I’m appraising them first,” he tells me. “See what they’re worth and if they’re real.”
“Are they?”
“I’m about to check.”
I watch him flip the watch over and carefully unscrew the back of it. He removes it and then pulls out a tiny jeweller’s loupe from his pocket. He takes a few minutes inspecting the back.
