The Double

by Newbury, Helena

  I limped up to our room, grabbed my phone, and then crept down the stairs to the basement, wincing with each step. The skirt of my dress was so wide, it almost touched the wall on both sides. How the hell am I supposed to creep around in this?

  I made it to the garage before anyone else and quickly looked around. Fortunately, I’d had a lot of practice when it comes to hiding. A broken light had left a patch of deep shadow right at the back of the garage and I hunkered down there, peeking out around one of the big SUVs.

  Grigory arrived first, a thick envelope in his hand that must have been packed with cash. A moment later, the man with the beard showed up, carrying some sort of suitcase. “I hope Konstantin knows what he’s doing,” he muttered as he handed it to Grigory. “Using this thing will bring a lot of attention.”

  Grigory looked suddenly grim. “He knows what he’s doing.” He handed the man the money and carried the case around to the back of a black Mercedes. He was going to load it into a car and deliver it right now! This was my only chance to find out what it was.

  Trying to move silently, I pressed my back against the side of the SUV and shuffled sideways along its length, keeping it between me and Grigory. He was muttering to himself, moving things around in the Mercedes’ trunk to make room for the case.

  I reached the SUV’s front fender, less than six feet from where Grigory stood. As he put the case in the trunk, his back to me, I craned my head out from behind the car and lifted my phone. Then, just as he swung the trunk closed, I took a photo.

  My phone camera clicked, the trunk slammed and I dropped back behind the SUV, all at the same time. I heard Grigory whip around—he’d heard something. I sat there with my back pressed against the cold metal, heart hammering, trying not to breathe.

  On the screen was the photo I’d taken, the suitcase clearly visible. It was one of those toughened flight cases with a vaguely military look. There was a number on the side that meant nothing to me, but maybe Calahan could decode it. I quickly sent him the photo: if Grigory caught me, at least all this wouldn’t have been in vain. But the email just sat in my outbox. Shit! There was no signal because we were underground.

  I heard Grigory take a step towards the SUV. I imagined his eyes searching the silent garage. I was paranoid that my phone was going to ring and give me away, so I powered it off.

  Over a minute went by. Then I heard Grigory curse in Russian, climb into the Mercedes and speed off. I slumped against the SUV, panting. Then I levered myself up and began the long walk back up the stairs to the ball. Before, I’d been running on adrenaline but now I felt every hard, concrete stair under my soles, every jolt as my heel came down, and the shoes bit into my skin. By the time I reached the ballroom, I was a wreck. But I pasted a smile on my face, opened the door and slipped inside.

  I walked the length of the room looking for Konstantin. Maybe he’s still playing poker. It was only when I reached the far end that I felt a warm hand on my bare shoulder and spun around. That was a mistake: my right shoe dug into the side of my foot in a particularly vicious way and I staggered sideways.

  Konstantin grabbed me under the arms, taking my weight like it was nothing. “What is it?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.” But as I tried to straighten up, a bolt of pain shot up my leg and I couldn’t disguise my wince.

  Konstantin looked down at my feet, then frowned at me. “Why didn’t you say something?” He shook his head. “We’re leaving. I’ll take you upstairs.”

  “You can’t leave!” I said, horrified. “It’s your party!”

  “If it’s my party,” he said firmly, “then I can do what I like.”

  And he hooked one arm under my back and the other arm behind my knees and suddenly I was scooped up in his arms, my huge skirt flowing down over his forearm, and he was carrying me through the room. Everyone turned to look and I would have curled up and died from embarrassment but—

  But nobody else mattered because I was looking up into his eyes. And the deep concern I saw there, the tenderness, took my breath away. It was even more overwhelming because of who he was, because I knew it was coming through all those layers of coldness.

  He carried me all the way up to our bedroom and kicked the door shut behind us. Then he dropped me gently onto the bed. Christina probably would have found a way to land gracefully, but I just sort of sprawled, arms and legs everywhere, and then I reached down and pried off my shoes. The relief was almost spiritual. I lay back with a contented groan.

  And then I realized he was looking at me in a very particular way.

  “What?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer, just stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at me.

  I glanced down at myself. I wasn’t doing anything sexy. I was just lying there untidily, my skirts all in a mess, barefoot and with my hair all disheveled but—

  But his eyes...they were like I’d never seen them. Not just a faint flicker of blue but a steady gleam. Not just lust. Something deeper.

  “What?” I asked again.

  This wasn’t the dungeon. This was our bedroom. Nothing was allowed to happen, here, but….

  But his knuckles had gone white where they gripped the foot of the bed. The tension that had been building for a week rose up between us, the air going thick and heavy.

  “Wha—”

  But I never reached the t because he suddenly lunged forward, grabbed me, and kissed me.

  39

  Hailey

  IT ALL HAPPENED so fast. He almost dived onto the bed, his knee between my thighs, and then his hands were on my cheeks and his lips met mine—

  And suddenly, he was unleashed.

  I’d caught those tiny glimpses. I knew there was emotion buried under all that ice. But I hadn’t realized just how long he’d been denying himself any real feelings. Years...decades. And I could feel every single second of it in how he kissed me. He needed me like a man twenty years in the desert needs water.

  He was actually growling with the urgency of it, the sound coming from low in his throat and rolling up through our lips as he moved and pressed and spread me open, the tip of his tongue meeting mine. A crackling wave of energy rolled through me and I pushed up against him, needing to sit up so that I could kiss him back. We twisted, both of us frantic, never breaking the kiss. My hands found his shoulders, sliding under his jacket and over those thick, hard muscles, and we fell back onto the bed with me on top, straddling him. Then he flipped us over, my skirts rustling and fluffing between us, and he was on top, kissing down into me. We rolled and twisted, breathlessly kissing, until I had no idea which way we were facing anymore: I hadn’t opened my eyes for what felt like an hour. We wound up on our knees in the center of the bed, our bodies pressed together and our fingers intermeshed, kissing just as desperately as when we started.

  He started to run his hands over me and it was as if he was touching me for the very first time, his palms smoothing over my shoulders and sides and hips and then back up to my breasts, exploring me even though he knew me so well….

  I realized with a jolt that I felt like me. Not like I was being someone else. Was that why it felt so different?

  He was mumbling something between kisses, his lips so close to mine that they stroked me with each syllable. “Ya khochu potselovat' tebya” He was so out of control, he was talking in Russian.

  “I have no idea what that means,” I panted.

  “I want to kiss you and never stop kissing you,” he muttered. “I want to fuck you and never stop fucking you. You’re mine, now and forever.”

  My chest filled and lifted, a warm glow flooding through me. “...uh huh,” I panted, and kissed him hard.

  I was exploring the hard contours of his back through his shirt. I’d been longing to touch him all week, but he never let me: my hands were always tied. Now I was going crazy: the more I touched him, the more turned on I got.

  His hands found my breasts through the layers of dress and corset, squeezing and lifting them
, his thumbs rubbing in circles over my nipples. We twisted again, the dress flaring out around me as I tipped sideways and across him, winding up lying across his knees.

  I managed to push his jacket off his shoulders. Then, as I ran my hands over the warm bulges of his biceps, he leaned me back and kissed me again, one big hand running up and down my body, squeezing my breast and smoothing over my hip and ass, and the other—

  The other hand dived under the layers of skirt, searching me out. I gasped as his fingers found bare leg, then followed it upward...over my knee...up my thigh...I gripped his shoulder with both hands, but not to stop him.

  His fingers glided over my upper thigh...my inner thigh. I drew in my breath, his stubbled cheeks burning my palms as I grabbed him and kissed him, open-mouthed and hungry. God, it hadn’t felt like this since I was a teenager, fooling around with my boyfriend and from his breathing, he felt the same. My whole world narrowed down to the feel of his fingertips, scalding hot against my skin as they dared higher, higher...nudged up against the softness of my panties—

  “God, I want you,” he growled.

  “D—Do it,” I panted, light-headed and giddy with the thrill of it. After everything we’d done down in the dungeon, how could this feel like such a big deal? But it did, because...somehow, this was me.

  His fingers traced my folds through the thin material, flattening my panties against my lips and God I could feel how wet I was. Then they hooked under the elastic at the side and... I drew in a shuddering gasp as he ran his fingers over me, rolling, and stroking my softness. I could feel myself opening. My eyes closed as our lips bumped again and his fingertips parted me—

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  And then the full, knobbly perfection of his fingers, sliding up into me, making me jerk and wriggle against him, my ass grinding against the top of his thigh. He kissed me and then pulled back a little, and when my eyes opened, he was staring deep into them, watching my reaction as he... pushed and then pulled back and God, pushed, the pleasure turning silvery and electric as he hooked his fingers and circled just there. I hooked my arm around his neck and dragged him down for another kiss, panting into his mouth as his thumb started on my clit. With my other hand, I fumbled for his belt, wrestling it open and then working at his fly. He shuffled his hips, helping me. This was so different from downstairs, when I’d had to be passive, when he’d always stayed dressed. When I wasn’t allowed to….

  Touch. We both groaned as my hand wrapped around his cock. I’d only ever felt it touch me, not the other way around, and it was glorious: the hot thickness of it, the way it filled my hand. I stroked my hand experimentally along its length and felt his whole body come to attention. Another slow stroke….

  Suddenly, he was rolling on top of me and trying to tug my dress down, desperate to have me naked. But the thing was held at the back by buttons. He rolled me over so that I was straddling him and groped with both hands for them, working his way down my back, pop pop pop. I was bending forward over him and I felt the neckline sag as it loosened, more and more of my cleavage becoming visible. And then he was frantically pushing it down over my shoulders and over the corset, and I twisted and kicked it down my legs, and finally I was free of it.

  I panted, straddling him again, the feel of his cock making me go weak as it rubbed along the front of my soaked panties. I could see him staring at my breasts, the top of the corset only barely keeping them contained. He reached for them, but it was my turn. I undid his bow tie and started working my way down his shirt buttons, more and more of that gorgeous chest becoming visible. For the first time, I could really see him: solid slabs of smooth muscle, broad and thick and loaded with power, so much that I couldn’t resist sliding my palm across his pec, drunk on the feel of him. The blue-black of his ten-pointed star tattoos stood out bold and unapologetic against his tan skin. It was impossible to forget who he was, and I knew he’d never try to hide it.

  I undid the last of the buttons and pushed back his shirt to reach his abs. God, I’d wanted to touch him here so many times. I rubbed over them in hungry circles, letting the heels of my hands ride the hard ridges and then lowering my head and kissing down the hard center line, nuzzling all the way up and between his pecs and meeting his lips as he bent down to meet me.

  As we kissed, I could feel his hands on the back of the corset. During the party, the pain in my feet had made me forget how tightly I was laced and it was only now, as I felt him pulling at the bow, that I remembered. The laces went loose, his strong fingers wrenched the two sides apart and oh, the sudden rush of air as my lungs properly filled for the first time in hours. My breasts spilled free and he pressed his palms up against them, growling and cursing in Russian. “You feel so good,” he told me.

  The corset was tangled around my lower back so I shimmied it down and off. I knelt there for a second, straddling his legs, in just my panties. His eyes had taken on that molten look, but even that was different to how it was downstairs: I could still see the blue and that emotion, that humanity, made it even hotter. His eyes were locked on me: on my face, on my breasts, on the damp scrap of fabric that was all that covered me. It was like he was seeing me for the very first time. And I felt different. I wasn’t being Christina, but I wasn’t just the old Hailey, either. He’d restored the confidence I’d lost.

  I wasn’t hiding, anymore.

  He reached for me but, for once, I was in control. I ducked back out of reach, hooked my fingers into his pants and drew them and his boxers down his legs, tugging off his shoes and socks at the same time. I dropped the whole tangle over the foot of the bed. Then I shuffled back up his legs...and wrapped my hand around his cock.

  He drew in his breath and rose up on his elbows. Then, as I dipped my head, his eyes went wide in shock. “But—” he started.

  I looked up at him and we stared at each other, the head of his cock inches from my lips.

  He couldn’t put it into words so he used just one. “Golub!” Dove! He was saying: but you’re so innocent!

  And I smiled wickedly, opened wide and engulfed the head of him, relishing the hot saltiness of him, the satiny touch of the head against my tongue. And he let out a stream of Russian curses and grew even harder in my mouth, his hips rising helplessly towards me. When I drew my mouth off him with a wet sucking sound, he was looking at me in utter amazement. Then his eyes narrowed and he stared at me with such blistering, unrestrained lust, I felt the reaction between my thighs. The thought that I was innocent, good, and yet also like that...apparently, that was the hottest thing ever.

  With a yell, he grabbed my waist and twisted, flipping me onto my back and climbing on top. He stripped the shirt off his arms and tossed it away and then he was pushing my thighs apart, his cock hard and hot against my thigh. I could hear myself panting and I was shocked—and turned on—by just how much we both wanted it.

  I was still wearing my panties. I hooked my thumbs in them to push them down but he just grabbed with one big hand, the fabric disappeared into his fist and—

  There was a snapping sound as the elastic snapped and then I was naked. The tip of his cock, still shining from my mouth, brushed up against me and—

  We both cried out as he filled me in one long thrust, the heat of him throbbing through me. It was so different, like this: I could feel his naked body against mine, could reach up and run my hands over him, could kiss him. I drew my knees up, soles sliding along the bed, and bit my lip in joy as he went deeper.

  He began to thrust, his forearms either side of my head, that hard, tan ass rising and falling, driving him into me. At last, I could move, I could answer the building pleasure in my core, circling my hips and twisting around him as he plunged. He cursed and went faster, and every thrust, every silken stretch of him, notched the pleasure higher in my chest, until I was grabbing at his shoulders and back to urge him on. God, the size of him, the feel of those wide pecs stroking against my breasts, the way he crushed me into the bed just a little….


  He sped up, his stomach slapping against mine, the base of his cock grinding against my clit at the apex of each thrust. The pleasure was starting to spin and compress inside me, building in energy like a hurricane. I drew him down to me and kissed him hard, lips bumping, teeth clacking in our urgency. My nipples were achingly hard as they dragged back and forth along his chest but I needed more—

  I pushed up and twisted and he let me, rolling over with me so that I was on top. Both of us groaned as I leaned back a little, impaled on him, and his cock hit a new angle inside me. Then I began to rise and fall and he filled his hands with my breasts, stroking the nipples with his thumbs and then gently pinching them. I half-opened my eyes, my lips parted in a groan of pleasure. He was shaking his head in wonder. He’d forgotten how good it can be, when you let yourself feel.

  I spread my hands on his chest, marveling at the hardness of him, the solid warmth of him. I used him to push against as I lifted and lowered myself, bouncing my ass against his thighs, filling myself with him again and again, the pleasure twisting and tightening, making me go faster and faster, until he suddenly grabbed me and rolled us, pinning me to the bed beneath him. He buried his cock in me and began to slam his hips into me, carrying me up to the edge. I could feel the climax thundering towards me. My legs wrapped around him, squeezing tight as he pounded and pounded—

  He leaned down, his lips a half-inch from mine. “Ya lyublyu tebya,” he gasped.

  The orgasm was right on me, my whole body trembling with it, about to release—

  “I love you,” he translated.

  And oh God as I realized…. “I love you, too.”

  And then the pleasure exploded through me, my hips circling and thrashing as he ground down into me. I bucked and trembled, crying out, and felt him shoot in long, hot streams deep inside me.

  40

  Hailey

  I WOKE to the firm, warm curve of Konstantin’s pec under my cheek, the reassuring solidness of his bicep under my fingers. I was half on top of him and it was the best thing in the world, like cuddling up to an enormous, heated teddy bear. How could a man so terrifying also be so comforting? But maybe it made sense: all that scary power was turned outward, now, away from us. I knew that he’d never allow anyone to hurt me and that made me feel protected like nothing else.