by Tonya Plank
Again, I carried her upstairs. But this time I didn’t stop at my bedroom door; I continued on to the bathroom, walking around the shower corner, and over to the steps that led to the bathtub.
“You must soak,” I commanded, seating her down gently on the top step of the three-tiered porcelain. “There is Epsom salt and bubble bath. I will be back in a few minutes.”
I went back downstairs and poured us two glasses of the best champagne I had, brought them to my bedroom, and threw off my clothes before returning to her.
I knocked on the door before entering.
“Who is it?” she joked in a funny but sexy voice.
Without answering I turned the knob and slowly opened the door, holding a glass in each hand. She was covered in pink bubble bath. Fine, I thought, as long as the Epsom salts were underneath the bubbles. She needed those to soothe her muscles. Her hair was in a high, sexily messy bun, and she’d found the second step of the tub, where the love seat was. The bubbles barely covered her nipples. She bounded up and down excitedly, revealing a delectable hint of pink nipple with each bounce.
“I see you’re in the love seat,” I said, walking toward her, my dick growing harder with each step, causing her to giggle and nearly swallow a bubble. “Be careful,” I joked. “I don’t know if the bubbles are edible.” I knelt and handed her a glass.
“Thank you,” she said with a blush.
Good thing I knew where the steps were because the water was the shade of Pepto-Bismol. How much bubble bath did she put in here?
“I haven’t had a bubble bath in a while,” she said, reading my thoughts.
“No worries,” I said, sitting beside her, my hip touching hers.
“Mmmm,” she said, taking a sip of the champagne, voicing my exact sentiments on feeling her creamy thigh against mine. I took a sip and sank down a little more into the seat, then propped myself up with my elbows on the tier above. I nudged her good knee with my leg and caressed under the water. She lifted her leg and placed it atop mine, her delicious opening lightly touching my thigh.
“Feeling better?” I said after a pause, looking at her with one eyebrow cocked.
“Mmmm, much.” She took a sip and licked her lips. I wanted her just to soak, to heal, but she wasn’t making it easy.
“You’re so cute.” I turned toward her, cupping her chin with my right hand.
“Cute? Like, a little puppy?
“No, not like a puppy, Rory.” I continued caressing her face with my fingertips, drawing her chin toward me. “As in sweet. And beautiful, and sublime, and angelic. And…I am limited in my English, Rory. I just don’t know all the words for all that I feel about you and it’s hard for me to think in English when I feel this way.”
So, I continued in Russian.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, ever touched. You are my everything. You remind me of home, but in a good way, only the best things from home. None of the horrors. You take those all away. You are my home here. You are everything I’ve lost. You make me whole,” I said, all in Russian. I knew she had no idea what I was saying. I’d tell her the meaning later. When I was ready to open up.
“Tell me what you’re saying!” she screamed, turning toward me and lunging more closely, particularly from the waist down. My erection grazed her thigh again.
“I told you, I don’t know all the words. They are too complicated to put together, too complicated for the emotions.”
She twisted her lips as if to say I wasn’t trying hard enough. I would. I would try later. Now wasn’t the right time.
“You are gorgeous, Rory. Beautiful, sexy, hot, everything good,” I said, meaning every word but taking the simple way out. For now. I raised my eyebrows and gave her my most wicked grin.
That did it. She climbed atop me in a heartbeat, bending her knees and spreading her legs to surround my hips. She’d apparently forgotten that she was still holding her champagne glass, and as she jumped some of the liquid went flying, giving both of us a little shower. I licked my lips. It was sweet.
“Oops, sorry,” she said with a giggle, placing the glass to her lips and taking a long swig, nearly emptying it, so the liquid would be less likely to fly again.
“It’s quite all right,” I said, wanting a taste of her too. But I let her maintain control. She was having too much fun.
She spread her knees farther and moved her pelvis toward me so that my iron-hard dick was now teasing her entrance. She reached behind me to place her champagne glass down on the tile, and as she did so her tight nipples peeked out from the bubbles. My eyes, which had been half closed, shot open as her sumptuous breasts rose from the water.
“Here.” I grabbed the glass from her. “I can’t see these beauties well enough,” I said, pouring the rest of the champagne down her chest. The liquid was cold and made her nipples tighten even more as it quickly dissolved any bubbles that had been covering them.
“Hey, that was ice-cold!” She laughed, seeming slightly embarrassed as she moved her elbows to cover herself. Again. These body issues needed to end!
I pulled her toward me and lifted her, taking her champagne-soaked nipple in my mouth. I licked the perimeter, then tongued the pebbled center, sucking gently. “Mmmmm, delectable,” I moaned.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, appearing to revel in the sparks of pleasure I sent through her. I sucked a little more aggressively as I cupped the other breast with my palm and teased the nipple. She arched her back and breathed deeply, filling her splendid chest, then pulsing her hips into my center, her wet core teasing my dick. I was going to explode if I didn’t get inside her soon. She held onto my shoulders to steady herself, then arched back farther, taking me fully inside her. Finally. But so worth the wait.
“You are enormous!” she moaned.
I pulled her chest closer to me as she threw her head back even more.
“Here,” I said, after taking my mouth off her nipple. I nodded toward the opposite side of the bath, where the oblong tub was. I told her all that I wanted to do to her, in Russian, partly because I couldn’t think of the correct words in English when I was so excited, and partly because I knew how sexy she was finding my native language.
With others I’d been embarrassed of my Russian, because I felt like an outsider. Even if they were enchanted by it, their simple acknowledgment of my accent or language made me not one of them. So, I never spoke Russian with any Americans. Even if they could speak some of it. With Rory it was just different. We were soul mates. It didn’t matter that we were from different places. We were one and the same in the here and now.
I stood. She rose as well, standing before me, the water waist high. The bubbles barely covered my erection which peeked out at her from the top of the suds. I extended my hand to her, in the same manner as when I invited her into closed dance hold on the dance floor. Yes, this is a kind of dance as well, right? She giggled at the resemblance and took my hand as I guided her across the tub.
“Here,” I said, extending my hand to the less deep, more oblong love seat where we could lie down.
“Oooh, it’s like a regular bathtub. I mean, not regular. A big bathtub within an enormous bath tub.” She giggled and sat. This seat was higher than the other. The water barely covered her beautiful blonde pubic hair.
“Lie down,” I commanded, turning her sideways. “And you can lay your head back here.”
“Holy crap, it’s like a bed,” she said.
“Perfect,” I whispered, standing over her with my full erection, looking down at her, my smile growing more wicked by the second.
The water was shallow enough here that when she breathed deeply her nipples peeked out. I placed my index finger over her lips and ran the tip over her chin, then down her neck, between her breasts, over her belly. She spread her legs farther, laid her head back on the edge of the tub and closed her eyes, rocking back and forth as I pressed down on the hard nub of her clit, then stroked gently up and down before partin
g her vulva and stroking her delicate insides. I continued massaging her with my thumb while adding a finger to caress her outer folds.
“Sasha!” She bent her knees so they were jutting out over the water, placing one foot on each edge of the porcelain. She gripped the outer edge of the tub with one hand and reached toward me with the other, indicating she wanted me inside her.
In an instant I climbed over her, wove myself between her legs and thrust inside her, hard and far, filling her completely. My thrust was more aggressive than the first time, but the water and her immense inner wetness really necessitated that. And she let me know it wasn’t too much as she pushed her hips up just as aggressively to meet mine. The water began to pour out of the side of the tub, into the shower. The more I pumped, the more we rocked, the more of a waterfall we created.
It wasn’t long before we drained the love seat dry. But water began to fill it from the rest of the tub, creating a double waterfall effect, one into the big tub’s smaller love seat and one from the tub down into the shower. The water trickling down two ways was incredibly sexy. I felt her body tighten into the first spasms of orgasm. She lifted her knees even higher until her toes curled over the edges of the love seat. She arched back more and moaned loudly, her outbursts echoing throughout the room, filling the entire house. Sensing her approaching climax, I moved more rapidly, fluttering, until I released three bursts of heavy pumping, timed almost to the nanosecond with her, by this point, near-screams of ecstasy. Nothing made me happier than her excitement, her losing herself so completely that she forgot all about being body conscious.
“That was definitely the most vocal, earth-shattering sex I’ve ever had,” she said, exhausted, as we lay trying to recover our breath. “By a landslide.”
Chapter 21
“Rory,” I whispered.
She blinked, slowly opening those long-lashed dreamy greens. I propped myself over her with my elbows, balancing on one arm so I could brush the hair out of her eyes.
“Mmmm, what a wonderful way to wake up,” she moaned.
My hardening dick grazed her inner thigh and she instinctively bent her knees and began to part her legs.
“Nope,” I said. Just about the hardest thing I’d had to say to her yet. I quickly jumped off the bed and threw the covers completely down to expose her nakedness.
She reflexively used arms and legs to try to cover herself. “Hey!”
“Sorry, but you insisted I wake you up at six. It’s six fifteen. Come on, sweet, time to rise and shine. It’s Monday, remember?”
She groaned and sat up, grabbing her head. “Ouch, headache,” she said.
“I can imagine. We drank quite a lot of champagne last night,” I said, unable to suppress a wicked smile recollecting all we did, both in the tub, then bed.
“Stop,” she said, play-smacking my lips. “I can’t call in sick again! Even though, ugh, I have no idea what hell awaits me at the office today…”
I wanted badly to take each of those beautiful fingers and lick them. But, sadly, now was not the time. “Whatever it is, you’ll be up to the task. You’re better than that shit boss. Always remember that.”
She managed a worried smile. “Thanks.”
“I’ll get you some aspirin,” I said, kissing her forehead.
“Wait, don’t leave me.” Suddenly she appeared on the verge of tears.
We were going to have to talk about this job. As strongly as she felt about this new case, most of the aggravation didn’t seem worth it. But that had to wait too. “Why? Come on, Rory. What if Gunther has you working on your innocent client case? You want to be there for that,” I said instead.
Her eyes lit up.
I laughed. “Your face completely changed expression. You have this excited schoolgirl look about you now.”
“Thank you for the motivation. You know me well,” she gushed, grabbing my arms and wrapping them around her back. “Promise me we’ll pick up tonight where we left off.” She nuzzled her nose and lips into my chest, breathing me into her. It felt wonderful.
But I had to be realistic, painful as it was. “Mmmm, I don’t know, my sweet. I mean, yes, but…it can’t be exactly where we left off.” We had to work tonight. We had to. No screwing around.
She moved her head back and looked into my eyes, play-frowning.
I tried to look serious. Admonishing, even. It was damn hard. Of course I badly wanted to make love all night again. “But yes, okay, we will start with a little one of these,” I said, taking her into my arms and pressing my lips to hers, giving her a full, deep kiss that lasted a good five minutes. That’s what it felt like anyway.
“I think that’ll get me through the day.” She giggled. “Where are my clothes again?” She rubbed her head into the crook of my shoulder, clearly not wanting to leave.
“Where they always end up. On the practice floor.”
***
“Rory, I want to ask you something. Quickly, because you have to get to work.” We were in my car in front of her building and she was just about to get out.
“What’s up?” she said.
“The studio just texted me that I got a cancellation tomorrow. I was wondering if you could come over an hour earlier to rehearse with Greta, and miss your last group class of the night?”
“Yeah, it’s just social cha-cha. Just a class I was taking for fun.”
“Good. I’m glad it’s not a big deal. Because I just wanted you to think about spending more time training with Greta instead of at the studio in group classes. This is just until Blackpool is over,” I added quickly. She had a lot of friends in the studio, and the group classes were a good stress relief for her. I didn’t want to take that away from her.
She opened her mouth but then her eyes began to dart about before she said anything. She was considering it.
“I know how many friends you have. I know you love the classes. I definitely don’t want to take that away. And obviously this doesn’t apply to the mambo team. Just until Blackpool? Or we’ll play it by ear, as you say. Whatever classes you feel like missing, if any. In fact, you have the keys. You may come over anytime and use anything you like—the bath or hot tub to soak your knee, the pool for laps—swimming is therapeutic for many dancer injuries, the weight room…”
Her eyebrows shot up at that.
“Oh yes, I’ll have to show you the weight room.”
She nodded, her nods growing increasingly rapid. “I think it’s a good idea to concentrate on Blackpool,” she finally said. “I’ll be at the studio enough as it is. I can miss some of those crazy classes.” Her smile was genuine. I wasn’t imposing.
“I’m glad we are on the same page. I will be home by seven. Greta will begin choreographing our Blackpool routines tomorrow. So tonight will be our last night alone, of regular prrrractice,” I said, seductively. “For a while, anyway,” I added with a whisper.
She nodded again, her eyes widening, an elfish grin spreading across her cheeks.
***
But of course her asshole boss screwed our plans yet again. She was nearly two hours late to our practice, as she’d texted she would be. And she was a bundle of nerves when she arrived, so our practice began laced with tension. I could tell when she flew in the door, she’d sped to my place. Which was dangerous in L.A., especially flying through the narrow, winding roads to my house.
“I don’t want you doing that ever again,” I warned.
“Doing what?”
“Speeding, like I know you were.”
“I didn’t, I didn’t even realize I did. I just wanted to get here. We were supposed to practice for an hour before—”
“Shhh, calm down.” I held her by both shoulders. She hadn’t told me what had happened at work. She’d only texted that she’d be late and would tell me later. “What happened?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I just…let’s just practice.”
“Tell me so you can get it off your chest. Then we will have a better practic
e,” I insisted.
She took a deep breath. “Gunther… He’s giving me such a hard time about Jamar. He’s so mean about it.”
“The innocent client,” I said.
“Yes.” She shook her head, looked on the verge of tears.
“How so? Tell me,” I said.
“I’m the one who met with Jamar, several times. I’m the one who’s talked to his mother and prison counselor and friends. I know him and his case so much better than Gunther.” Her voice was shaking but she’d staved off tears. “Gunther yelled at me that I was making his job so difficult by insisting Jamar was taken advantage of, that he’s retarded. He called me a slacker, said I’d done no work on the case because I had nothing to prove his mental handicap. But I’ve gotten all the evidence there is.” She threw her arms up. “His mother said he’s always been slow, and it turns out his brother actually shot a guy for consistently calling him a ‘retard.’ All his friends and family know about his handicap. Just because there are no records and his IQ’s never been tested. I can’t help that!”
“Can you have it tested?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I asked Gunther that and he said no way is the judge going to order it. Everyone always claims mental disability, according to him. But he also said…” Now she did start to cry. I wrapped my arm around her back, kissed her shoulder. “He said I’m naïve and have no sense of logic or I’d clearly see what a crapshoot I’d made of the case. He basically said I was a horrible lawyer.”
I pulled her into a deeper embrace.
“I don’t want to think about him. I just want to be here with you,” she said into my chest, talking over the tears. “I’m really excited for Greta to start choreographing for Blackpool! I’m really excited to get our routines and have something to practice and just…this will just be so…good.” She was trying hard to think about Blackpool, to get her mind off her blasted job. She was talking a mile a second again.
