The car was loud with her gasping breaths, and Konstantin’s own irregular breathing made it seem like he suffered along with her. Without the flimsy cloth between them his every touch was amplified, making her twitch and wriggle. She squealed at the feeling of his finger brushing lightly over her defenseless bud. With both hands she gripped his arm, not to stop or encourage him, only to keep herself from panic.
“You’re so wet, little one,” he said, sliding a finger up and down her cleft until her body parted for him. For a moment he toyed at her entrance, but he didn’t broach her. She wasn’t sure she would have stopped him if he’d tried. “You’re so ready. I wish I could finger fuck you, but I should probably wait.”
Instead of scaring her, his words just wound the knot in her lower belly tighter. If he tried, the man could probably make her orgasm with words alone.
She whimpered, the sound pitiful even to her own ears. Konstantin kissed her forehead as his other hand circled the back of her neck and held her in place, like he was afraid she’d run away.
“Are you a bad girl, Varushka? Are you going to come all over my fingers?”
Her muscles froze. A white glare blinded her, and time seemed to stop into one moment—his hand restraining her, the other pinching painfully at her sensitive nub, his growled encouragements in her ear.
“That’s right, baby girl. You show me how hard you can come.”
The orgasm seized her, the torturous pleasure tearing a shriek from her throat as her body rippled and contracted. His fingers were hurting yet still the orgasm came, as though the pain made it burn brighter and hotter. Konstantin’s gaze held hers, like he owned every shudder and gasp he coaxed from her body.
Sweating, slick and exhausted, she relaxed back against the seat. He kissed her and she responded to him weakly. When he drew his fingers away from her heat she almost whined a protest, not ready for it to be finished. He straightened behind the wheel, and watched her, his gaze avid, as he licked her wetness from his fingertips.
An orgasm aftershock trembled through her, and he stroked her cheek as she weathered it.
When she finally managed to slow her breathing and focus, she noticed the car was parked in an empty lot.
Konstantin rested his head on the steering wheel. She watched him, biting her lip. Had she upset him?
“What’s wrong, Sir? Are you mad at me?”
He laughed humorlessly. “No. No, Varushka.” He moved his hand back over hers. “You were perfect.”
Her gaze fell onto his lap, where a giant bulge strained at his jeans. She remembered feeling that underneath her at the club. Now, she longed to feel it inside her.
She gave her head a shake. Bad, Varushka. We are not married yet.
He groaned and gripped the steering wheel. “Stop staring at it, woman, or I’ll give you an up close introduction.”
Quickly, she turned her head away. She didn’t want that, did she? No. What they’d done had been bad enough. Good girls didn’t do such perverted things in a car after getting turned on by perverted things in a club. She hadn’t been to church in too long. That was the problem.
Tomorrow, she would go to confession and pray for strength from God. She only hoped there was a church close by with a very open-minded priest.
With a frustrated sigh, Konstantin pulled out of the lot and drove them home.
* * *
Varushka paced the hallway outside Konstantin’s bedroom. The man was still asleep, damn him. It was nearly eleven o’clock. She’d never slept past eight, even on the weekend, so it’d surprised her this morning when she’d finally awoken and the clock read almost nine. They’d been out late last night, plus her body was still adjusting to the time change.
She’d cleaned the kitchen, even though it looked like it’d been cleaned already, then she’d washed their clothing from last night. She’d made breakfast, then covered a plate for Konstantin for when he woke up. Now, she had nothing to do but wait, pacing and chewing her thumbnail.
“Come in, Varushka,” he called from the other side of the door.
She stopped in her tracks. How did he know she was there? Had she woken him? Was he angry?
Nervously, she opened his door. The curtains were closed and only a crack of sunlight shone through the gap between them. It was light enough to see him sitting up in bed, the blanket covering his lap but leaving his chest bare. Her cheeks felt suddenly hot.
His bedroom had a forbidden feel at the best of times, but with him in it, in bed and shirtless, it was the definition of temptation.
“Why are you pacing outside my door, little bird?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I-I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to wake you.” When he didn’t say anything, she peered up at him curiously. “How did you know?”
“I could see the shadow under the door. Nobody comes to clean on Sundays. Plus, I could hear you nibble your nail. It was either you or a giant mutant squirrel.”
“I’m sorry.”
After a quiet moment, he said, “Come here.”
Her body obeyed him even though her brain shouted to retreat. She still wasn’t sure if he was angry. And what would he do if he was? Punish her like the Dominants in the club? Spank her like a child?
God, she hoped so.
Her knees shook as she approached his bed.
She stopped at his side and kept her gaze down.
“If you ever need something,” he said, “you can knock on my door. You don’t need to be afraid of me.” After a quiet chuckle, he added, “Well, not right now anyway.”
Gently, he took her hand and pulled her so she sat on the edge of the forbidden bed. She was in a man’s bed. No good could come of this, especially after the way he had made her feel the night before. He cradled her jaw in his hand and turned her face to his so she was forced to look at him. “Now, what is it you want?”
“To go to church.”
He stared at her a moment, then dropped his hand and muttered something in English. Rubbing his hand over his face, he swore in Russian too. “I haven’t been to church in a long time.”
Finding her courage, she imitated her mama’s stern look. “That’s not good of you, Konstantin. And you from a good Orthodox family! What would your baba say?”
He froze in place, narrowing his eyes at her, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d gone too far. Before she could apologize, he barked a loud laugh. “You sound just like her, malish.”
Malish? The intimacy of the pet name surprised her. Couples called each other malish. Did he think of her as . . . his?
A warm flutter started in her belly.
Then he rose up from the bed. “We will go to church.”
Before she could see anything, she snapped her head around the other way. Was he naked? Would she see his . . . privates up close? Her palms started to sweat as she thought through ways to make a polite exit.
“We’ll go later this evening.” The closet door creaked open and it sounded like he was riffling through it. “But I have to get some work done first.”
“Work?”
“There is no rest day in America. And I have to leave for business on Tuesday.”
She turned her head to look at him. “You’re leaving me?”
He smiled kindly, then pulled his shirt over his head. It took a moment to remember he was scantily clad. But when she grew brave enough to look down, she saw he was already wearing a pair of jeans. In her head, she scolded herself for being disappointed.
“Only for a few days,” he said, walking toward where she still sat on the bed. “You’ll have to amuse yourself though. I’ll leave money for you to go shopping or go to the movies. And I’ll send Everly and Kate to check on you.”
She thought about staying here in this big house by herself and shuddered. There were always people in her parents’ house—brothers, extended family, neighbors. She’d spent most of her life wishing for privacy, and now she yearned for the commotion. People jammed into small rooms, Papa’s
boisterous laugh, her brothers tackling one another and knocking over furniture was normal for her, not all the openness and silence of Konstantin’s big house.
But she had to find courage. If this was to be her new life, she would have to adjust. Kon was a busy man. He didn’t have time to babysit her. Straightening her shoulders, she nodded stiffly. “I will be fine.”
He stared down at her a moment, then patted her cheek. “Good girl.”
For the rest of the day, she read books from his library, found obscure spots to clean the maid had missed, cooked them lunch, then peeled potatoes for dinner. She’d expected Konstantin to disappear into his office all day. He had for a while, but he kept coming out, as though he was checking on her. He’d get a snack or drink from the kitchen, but sometimes he just watched her.
At dinner, they made small talk as they ate.
“Do you have something nice to wear to church?” she asked him.
“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t make a habit out of treating me like a small child, Varushka.”
She ducked her head. “I’m not. But it seems like you’ve forgotten—”
“I haven’t forgotten my roots,” he said firmly. “I attend mass when I can but when I can’t, I’m sure God forgives me.”
After that, she dressed in her most modest new dress, then found Konstantin in the foyer. His button-down shirt and tie made him look sinfully handsome.
She smiled at him.
He put his hands out to the side. “Is this good enough for God?” His lips curved in amusement so she knew he was teasing.
“Very handsome.”
His gaze roved over her and he licked his lips.
She smoothed down her plain dress. It wasn’t necessary to show off for God but He appreciated the effort to look your best. But Konstantin was making her nervous. Did Americans dress different for church too? “Do I look okay?”
“Good enough to eat,” he rumbled. “I’m tempted to—”
Panic flooded her. He couldn’t sway her to do more dirty things. Not today. “Come,” she said sharply, moving toward the door. “It’s already late.”
The loud sound of a slap bounced off the walls as a stinging hand landed on her backside. She spun around with a yelp.
Konstantin gazed down at her. “You don’t order me around, little bird.”
Her face burned. So did her ass. He’d done it. He’d actually spanked her.
Without warning, he grabbed a handful of her hair and gently pulled her head back so she couldn’t hide her face. Pain pricked her scalp, not unbearable, but enough to send a message. Her stomach dropped and her knees felt like they’d buckle any second.
“Do you understand me, Varushka?” he said softly. He didn’t need to raise his voice. He had her full attention. “It’s not your place to boss me around.”
Her limbs went numb and her privates started to throb again. Like in the club, and then the car afterward. She whimpered.
Please, no. Please not now.
Maybe if she said what he wanted to hear, he’d let go. They could go to church. She would be right with God.
“Yes, Sir.”
His gaze bore into hers, as if he were trying to see through her. Or maybe he was trying to read her mind. Would he know that this made her panties wet, just as the club had?
“What do you say?” he asked.
Words flipped through her mind and she tried to sort out which might be the right ones. Taking a guess, she answered, “I’m sorry, Sir?”
“For?”
“For . . .” —she swallowed hard— “for bossing you, Sir.”
He released her hair, then stroked his fingers down her cheek. “Good girl.”
She stood numbly for a moment, unable to make her feet move. All she could do was breathe—in, out—trying to get her wits back. For some reason, she simultaneously felt like crying, touching herself, and smiling. What in the world was going on with her?
A moment later, he pulled her up against his body and wrapped his arms around her. His heart thudded under her cheek and she felt hers slow to match his beat. He’d slapped her ass, then held her hair and made her say embarrassing things. And now he hugged her, as if he cared about her. Was this what marrying Konstantin would be like? Punishment, then cuddling? That wasn’t so bad.
No. It was better than that. It made her feel warm and tingly and wanted and protected. She smiled against his chest.
Pulling her face up with a finger under her chin, he looked down at her. “You’re a good girl, malish. You just have to remember your manners.”
She was starting to like the way he said malish—as if it were a word just for her. When she nodded, he leaned down and kissed her—a chaste kiss that left her wanting more. She sighed when he backed away, but considering where they were going, it was just as well.
The car ride was silent and she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Her mind was still reeling. Emotions swept through her so fast, she couldn’t settle on one. Anxiety he was leaving in a few days. Fluttery and hot from what had happened in the foyer. And guilt from thinking of such things just before church.
Church—where she was supposed to confess the sins of the last few days. Church, where she was supposed to walk in feeling shameful and out feeling new again. Would she receive forgiveness today? Would the confession and prayers be enough to resist him next time she felt that stir inside her?
Walking through the monstrous doors of the church felt like coming home. The smell, the sounds, the stained glass and candles and wooden pews . . . It resembled her church in Russia enough that a deep part of her relaxed for the first time since she’d flown here. It felt as if she could breathe freely again. Unable to hold back a small smile, she followed Konstantin to a row.
Bright paintings adorned the walls, broken only by a few gold accents. It was a well-appointed church, but the décor was more demure than the church she’d gone to since she was born. It was pretty here, but not as ostentatious as what she was used to. Americans seemed to have subtler tastes.
She lowered herself to a kneel and gazed up at the crucifix. Silently, she prayed.
Konstantin remained sitting. She didn’t bother to look back at him, afraid she’d end up scolding him and get herself in more trouble. His relationship with God and religion was his own business anyway. She should have known better than to meddle.
After she prayed for everyone at home, and thanked God for His blessings, she looked for the confessional. In the back right of the room, she spotted the familiar wooden shape.
“I’m going to confession,” she whispered to Konstantin.
He nodded.
Inside the confessional, she sat on the wooden bench and waited to be acknowledged. She could hear the priest’s breathing on the other side.
“Good evening, my child,” he said.
“Good evening, Father.”
“What would you like to confess?”
She heaved a breath then started. “Um. I’ve . . . I’ve had some impure thoughts.”
“Yes?”
“And . . .” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’ve done some terrible things, Father!”
“Shhh,” he soothed. “Confess and all will be forgiven.”
She cried quietly. “I . . . I don’t know how to say them.”
“God knows your sins. Take your time and say them when you’re ready.”
If He already knew, couldn’t she keep them inside? “Well, I . . . I let a man touch me.”
“Your husband?”
“No.” This sounded terrible. Way worse than she’d thought. “Well, maybe but not yet.”
“Go on.”
“He brought me to a club where men and women committed sins in front of others . . .”
She paused. Would lightning come from the sky and strike her dead? Would the priest faint? It was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she went on. The quicker she said it, the sooner it would be over.
“I sat on his lap and got very .
. . stimulated.” Her voice shook. “And then in the car, he put his hand on my panties and . . .”
The priest cleared his throat, cutting her short. “The Lord thanks you for your confession.” His voice tightened, but at least he hadn’t fainted. “The details are between you and God,” he explained. “But I would caution you against going further with this man. If he cannot wait to have you until marriage, perhaps he is not a man worth marrying.”
She nodded, figuring he’d say as much. But what the priest didn’t know was that Konstantin was kind and patient and caring. To have done so well in business, he must have been smart and hardworking too. What more could a country girl like her ask for? Virgin or not, he was more than any man she knew back home. There was also the fact that she wanted Konstantin just as desperately as he seemed to want her. She wanted to be a good girl, but abstinence in this situation might take the forbearance of a saint.
The priest was kind and didn’t insist on strict penance—not like the one back at home. After thanking him, she slipped out of the confessional and tiptoed back to Konstanin.
“All done?” he asked.
She nodded, feeling the weight of the last few days lift from her shoulders somewhat. But her stomach twisted in knots. It was expected she not commit the same sins she’d just confessed, but how would she hold herself back when Konstantin made her feel so . . . lusty?
As she climbed back into his car—into the very seat she’d orgasmed in just last night—she prayed for God to give her strength.
* * *
Never had Varushka seen anything as busy as Times Square. Loud and chaotic, with people and performers and displays and shops, it was like a dazzling festival. It was even more shocking when Konstantin told her it was like this year-round.
Packed in amongst throngs of strangers, the feel of Konstantin’s strong hand on her—sometimes on her shoulder, sometimes holding her hand, and sometimes even grazing her bottom—made her feel safe to explore. He followed her down streets and through stores like a well-paid bodyguard, never more than an arm’s length away.
To Have and to Master Page 7
