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I stand.
“Are you leaving already?” he whines.
“Yes, I have a big day tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to walk you out?”
I look him in the eye. “Thank you, but that will not be necessary. I belong to another man.”
He nods quickly and looks awkward. For a moment there, he had forgotten I’m in the program.
Everyone in the place stares at me as I walk to the door. Let them stare. I don’t care. Soon, I will be leaving for Moscow. I will never have to see any of them after tonight. The same goes for the stranger I’m going to meet at his hotel.
I have only about a couple of hours before I have to go back to Yuri’s truck.
Hunter
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bo_efYhYU2A
I pace my room restlessly. Picking up a young woman in a foreign country is as dumb as dumb can be, but I couldn’t stop myself. She was impossible to resist. I walked into that dump of a bar and I couldn’t believe my eyes. What would a woman like that be doing in a shitty town in the middle of nowhere?
She was like a dream. Those luscious red lips. Hell, I wanted to grab her, throw her over my shoulder and take her back to my hotel. I’m still haunted by those emerald green eyes fringed by thick lashes, the smell of her. Roses. I hear footsteps in the corridor and rush to open the door before she can knock it.
“Oh,” she says and drops the hand she had raised.
Fuck, she looks even better than she did at the smoky bar. She’s incredibly, unbearably, mind-blowingly sexy, and as I look at her, I feel my control starting to slip. Making me want to pounce on her like an animal.
She smiles.
I don’t smile back. I can’t. My skin feels tight and hot and my heightened senses make me feel almost dizzy. I don’t want her to know just how much I desire her. I don’t want to scare her away. Even I don’t understand what’s going on with me. “Come in,” I tell her and step aside.
She walks in, and out of habit I check the hallway for other people. I’m used to all kinds of scams, but I cannot really believe this is a scam. I close and lock the door. The room is suddenly full of the smell of roses. After having cabbage in my nostrils for days, I inhale it in greedily.
She bites her juicy, wet bottom lip. “You have anything to drink?”
I want to suck that lip into my mouth, instead I shake my head. “Who’s coming?”
Her enormous green eyes widen. “What?”
“Is it that guy you were talking to?” Words drop out of my mouth, but I’m on autopilot. Years of conditioning has taken over. What I really want to do is fuck. Mindlessly. For hours.
She frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I was born at night, just not last night. Young, sexy girl gives some chump from out of town the eye. They get naked and some thug comes through the door. The chump gets tossed and if he has enough money, he ends up with a busted nose and an empty wallet. I know couples in Detroit that make a living out of dumb tourists. So, who’s coming?”
“You’re stupid,” she says scornfully. “Are all Americans as stupid as you?”
There’s something sweet and innocent about her even when she’s being sassy, and yet she can’t be that innocent. She has come to the room of a man she met in a bar for a few seconds. “Who’s coming?” I ask harshly.
Her eyes flash.
Oh, I like that. Fire in a girl turns me on like nothing else.
“No one is coming,” she says hotly. “Can’t you get that through your thick American head?”
“Sit down,” I tell her in the coldest voice I can muster. “We’re going to wait a minute or two. We’re going to talk. If no one comes through that door, then, we’ll get to what we both want. If someone is coming, you better get on your phone and tell him to call it off. Because if he comes in, I’m going to break both his arms, so he’ll have to pay someone to wipe his ass. Got that?”
She glances at the cheap plastic watch on her wrist, then sits down to wait with me.
I can’t even pretend to care anymore. I don’t care who’s coming through that door. My body aches for her. I can accept a broken nose for her. “What’s your name?” I ask. I know she told me her name, but I was so entranced by her face it flew right over my head.
“Katya. What’s yours?”
“Hunter.”
“Hunter?” she echoes. “Like in hunting for animals?”
“Exactly like that. Tell me about your family. Any brothers or sisters?”
She frowns and I don’t blame her either. This must be the worst fucking seduction in the history of mankind. “Why do you want to know?” she asks.
“I don’t actually. I’m just making conversation.” The words taste like ashes in my mouth. I do want to know about her. I want to know everything about her.
“Then we will wait for your imaginary assailant in silence.” She unbuttons her coat. I know she isn’t doing it to be provocative, but hell, I can feel my temperature rising. I want to rip off her clothes and feast on her. She discards the coat and I feel my body responding. I tell myself any man would respond to this. Her curves are the stuff of movies and romance book covers. Curves to die for.
“This is really boring.” She pulls her blouse apart and she’s wearing a lacy black bra.
I open my mouth and no words come out.
The sight of me gaping idiotically at her lush body emboldens her. She stands and takes off her blouse, then wiggles out of her skirt. It’s been a long time since I saw a girl take off her clothes without turning it into a provocative striptease of some sort. She reaches behind her back, unhooks her bra and lets it fall to the ground. Her nipples are pink and erect. She stands in nothing but her panties.
She’s precisely what I want. What I really, really want.
My cock is hard and pushing against my jeans.
Resting one hand on the arm of the chair she takes one boot then the other off. Straightening, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulls them down.
I can’t help it, my mouth makes a shape and a groan escapes from my throat. My mouth is dry as I look at the neat nest of dark blonde curls. Jesus Christ. “How old are you?” My voice is unnaturally husky.
“Old enough,” she answers. Her smooth, pale skin holds a pink flush.
I can’t stop looking at her. She is so damn beautiful. “How old?”
She looks at her watch. “Fifteen minutes ago, I turned eighteen.”
Eighteen. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone that young. Something about her bothers me and it’s not her age. The way she stands there naked and silent. Any other woman would have gotten into some kind of seductive pose. I still can’t get away from the feeling that she is ... “Are you … a … virgin?”
She smiles sweetly. “Try me and find out.”
Her voice is playful and teasing, and it makes me feel silly for thinking something like that. Of course, she isn’t. A virgin doesn’t follow strangers from a bar back to their hotel rooms. Maybe all Russian girls took off their clothes to just stand there buck naked, unaware of their own desirability. I forget about someone breaking down the door.
“Get on your knees,” I tell her, the words hard and commanding.
Her eyebrows rise in surprise, but she drops to her knees obediently.
“Now, crawl over here,” I order. Part of me thinks it is sacrilegious to make those flawless knees scrape the ground, but I need her to. I have to diminish her in my mind. She isn’t a beautiful angel who visited me one snowy night in Russia, she is just a woman I met in a bar who followed me to my hotel room. It’s just sex. Nothing more. My life is in Detroit. This is just another one-night stand. I’ve had many of those.
She gets on all fours and crawls towards me like some kind of feral animal, untamed and dangerous, but I don’t think she knows what dangerous is. I’m dangerous. She’s just an incredible beauty. To think that such a woman could be in this sad excuse of
a town is astonishing. Her movements are slow, sensual, and while she crawls, I undo my pants and pull out my cock. It’s throbbing now. It’s full and red, but she’s going to give it great attention before I let it shoot. I don’t touch it. I let her see it, red and engorged, staring at her.
She arrives, and her eyes focus on my erection. Her eyes grow big and sparkle when she sees how big I am. Her red lips glisten when she licks them. She’s excited as I am for this.
“Get to it,” I breathe.
For the first time since I met her she appears unsure of herself and hesitant, then she rises to her knees and places her hands on my knees. Her skin is wonderfully soft. Some part of my brain wonders how this could be. It’s as if she doesn’t work and from what I know of Russia, every woman works—unless she’s from a rich family. Katya’s not rich. I can see that much. She squeezes as she leans forward, her pink tongue slips through those red lips and finds the head of my cock. She licks quickly like she would an ice cream. Ah, she has no idea how to please a man.
