by Ava Bloom
Every once in a while, he’d glance over at me and catch me watching him, but when I blushed and studiously turned my gaze back over to the city, he simply smiled.
Finally, he came over and sat down beside me, after laying an extensive feast out on the low table in front of us. “Well, dig in,” he said, spreading his arms.
“Mm, this is really good,” I said as I munched on a bite. “You really do know how to cook.”
Dmitry preened at the attention. “It’s not the only thing I know how to do, either,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me, and I had to laugh. For some reason, even though I knew they were lines he probably used with every woman, even though I knew that I should be protesting and telling him that I wasn’t the kind of woman to just fall into bed with anyone, there was something charming about the way he said these things. As though it were some private joke between us.
We ate mostly in silence. When we finished, Dmitry pushed the table slightly away and sat back, putting his arm around the back of the couch behind me.
“The city sure looks beautiful from here, doesn’t it?” I asked, feeling content. The wine was making me a little sleepy, just a little tipsy, and I realized suddenly that I felt comfortable there, with him. Even though he was, nominally, the enemy.
I frowned but pushed that thought out of my mind.
“The city pales with the beauty sat beside me,” Dmitry said, another of his cheesy lines, but when I looked over, he was looking seriously at me, his gaze dark with desire.
My breath caught in my throat for a moment, and I wanted nothing more than to bridge the distance between us, to press my lips against his. But I paused, hesitant and uncertain. I remembered my resolution from earlier, how I wasn’t going to sleep with him.
He had no such qualms, though, and he leaned in close, brushing my hair back and then firmly settling his lips against mine. The kiss was soft and tender almost, something that I didn’t expect from him. I guess I had expected he would be demanding, that he would force my lips open and plunge his tongue inside my mouth. Instead, he seemed to be waiting for a reaction from me.
I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him back, moaning softly as he tugged at my lower lip with his teeth.
He pulled back, giving me another moment to push him away, to put a stop to this. But again, I was caught up in the spell of the moment. I twisted my fingers in the soft, grey fabric of the shirt that he’d put back on after he’d finished cooking, using the material to pull him towards me, fitting my mouth against his for a second time. This time, I opened my mouth to him, and he licked and sucked his way inside.
His hands tugged at my hips, pulling me closer to him, arranging me so that I was sat in his lap, straddling him. My dress was rucked up on either side of my legs, and when I pressed down against him, it was only the thin fabric of my panties that stood as a barrier between his jeans and my slick pussy.
Dmitry pulled his mouth away from mine, trailing sloppy, heated kisses along my neck and towards my collar. I could feel as his hands found the zipper in the back, and although part of my mind was insisting that it was too soon, that we were moving too quickly, I still couldn’t find it in me to voice any protests. No, I wanted this I realized, as his hands slowly pulled down my zipper and drew the fabric away from my upper body.
For a moment, Dmitry paused, staring at my ample breasts in the black, lacy bra that I was wearing. He looked like he wanted to say something teasing, but whatever it was, he shook his head and forgot about it. He leaned forwards and kissed each breast, his lips leaving their mark just above the edge of each cup.
Suddenly, he stood up, holding me in his arms, and maneuvered us so that I was lying on my back across the couch, with him over me. He tugged my dress down further and then slid it carefully off my legs, hanging it over the arm of the couch behind him. His hands traced across my skin while his eyes devoured every change in my expression.
“Is this okay?” he asked suddenly, his voice gravelly with desire.
I nodded, still not trusting myself to form words.
I was rewarded with a lazy smile as Dmitry leaned back in, nuzzling my chin as his fingers dipped into my panties, quickly finding my sweet spot and playing his fingers across it, making me cry out as I arched against him. Dmitry hummed in response and twisted his hand so that his digits slipped inside of me, pushing into my folds as though they belonged there.
“God, you’re tight,” he groaned, dropping his forehead down against my collarbone.
“It’s been a while,” I gasped out, blushing even though I knew better than to be ashamed at that.
Dmitry gave me a serious look. “I’ll go slow,” he promised.
He seemed intent on making good on that promise too, as he continued to work his fingers inside me, giving me plenty of time to adjust, until I was practically sobbing with how badly I needed something more. With the angle we were lying at, I couldn’t get a hand on him, although every once in a while, I could feel his member pushing insistently against my hip as he shifted.
I pushed at his shoulders, trying to get him to back off a little so I could do something—tear his shirt off or get a hand down his pants, I wasn’t even sure which.
Finally, Dmitry laughed and pulled away. He stood up and stripped with brisk efficiency. After a moment where all I could do was stare hungrily as he showed more and more skin, I hurriedly removed my own bra and panties, so that when he next lay down over me, it was skin upon skin wherever we connected.
“Ready?” Dmitry breathed.
“Please,” I whispered.
Dmitry was just as careful and patient as before, slowly guiding his cock inside of me until he was fully seated within me. He gave me a few moments to adjust to his girth before he began to move. I gasped, feeling the slow drag of his skin against mine, the way the head of his penis pulled against my lips as he drew nearly all the way out before thrusting quickly back in again.
I made a punched-out sound as he hit the very end of my cavern, sending white-hot stars erupting behind my eyelids. My fingers scrabbled against his hips, urging him to do that again. Dmitry complied, and I cried out.
It was as I opened my eyes that I suddenly became aware of how exposed we were, there on the deck of his yacht. It felt like the whole city could look out and see us there, and I felt incredibly naughty…and hot all over, at the idea of it.
Dmitry thrust into me and I nearly screamed out his name, reminded again at how public our position was. If another boat were to happen past, they could surely hear me, could surely see us in the light spilling out of the cabin. But it didn’t seem to matter just then.
The only thing that mattered was chasing the orgasm flickering at the edges of my being. I could practically taste it, like an ocean wave threatening to overwhelm me, salty and heavy with the anticipation of it.
As Dmitry continued to use my body, it spilled over me, making me convulse against him, pulling his body against mine, squeezing an orgasm out of him as well, until we were a mess of pleasure and erratic heartbeats.
Dmitry turned his head to the side and kissed my hair, which I was sure was no longer neatly coiffed. But then again, my whole act didn’t seem to have worked: I hadn’t managed to act reserved, hadn’t managed to keep myself from having sex with him.
Shame came creeping in, as I remembered suddenly that this wasn’t supposed to be about sex or orgasms or slick muscles beneath my fingertips. I was meant to be getting information out of him. I was meant to be saving my mother in the only way that I could.
Instead, I wanted nothing more than to curl up beneath a blanket with Dmitry and sail off to who-knows-where.
I swallowed hard and turned my head away.
Dmitry pulled back, looking down at me. Again, I sensed that he wanted to say something, but whatever it was, he held back. It made it easier, in a way, knowing that he had his secrets as well, that there were some things that he wasn’t ready to say either.
He gently cupped my cheek in h
is palm, stroking the pad of his thumb across my cheekbone. “I guess it’s time I got you home,” he murmured.
I nodded, even though I hated the feeling of him pulling slowly away from me.
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