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Both amused and frustrated, he opened the vanilla-scented bodywash he’d bought for her. He lathered it, then washed her trembling hands and arms before moving to her shoulders and rinsing her. Next, he soaped her clavicle and worked his way down to her pert breasts. Still not used to being handled, she gasped and shuddered, rocking her ass back against him while he mauled her pretty pink nipples. It had been so long since he’d had a woman that the feel of sliding up and down the crack of her ass was ecstasy. He tried to stop her from moving before he did something embarrassing.
The girl squirmed in his arms, trying to get comfortable, but apparently was just as frustrated as he was.
“So you know how things work, do you?” He asked when he’d regained a semblance of control. “What do you know?”
She lifted her chin and her blue eyes flashed in response to his challenging tone. “I know how sex works. I’m not a child.”
“You know how it works in theory, or have you seen it?”
“Seen it?”
“On television, or online.”
“Pornography is for men who aren’t afraid of God watching them.”
“Pornography is for every adult who has internet access.” He wasn’t about to tell her about the magazines he, Ambrose, and Banner used to get from the neighbor kid down the street before they were even old enough to shave. The boy’s older brother had been into some kinky shit. “So you’ve never watched people having sex?”
Varushka sniffed virtuously. “I once caught a girl from my village having sex with her boyfriend in the forest behind my house. I didn’t see anything, but I knew what they were doing.” She looked disgusted.
“Did you watch?”
“No! That’s not the kind of girl I am. Who would watch such a thing?”
“Hmm. Was the boyfriend ugly?”
The pause that followed was long and guilty. “Yes.”
“So,” he let the word hang in the air just to embarrass her. “It wasn’t that you wouldn’t watch people have sex, it was just that you didn’t want to watch those people have sex.”
Her one-shouldered shrug spoke volumes.
As he washed her hair she grumbled, insisting she could do it herself, but submitting when he told her he wanted to do it. She complained again when he let the water out of the tub and he wrapped her in a fluffy towel. He wrapped another around his waist and led her to his office.
“Aren’t we going to get dressed?” Varushka gripped her towel, as though the idea of it falling off worried her. As though they hadn’t just taken a bath together.
“No.” He brought her to his office where he sat at his desk and coaxed her onto his lap. There were two layers of towel between them, but somehow it felt more naked than clothing. Probably because with one tug he could be inside her.
He logged into his laptop and typed a search into his web browser.
“I’m going to show you something.”
That won him a disapproving scowl, but he ignored it and called up an erotic massage video. It started off slow, with the girl’s ass covered by a towel and the male masseuse sliding his hands over her bare back. Konstantin slid his hands over Varushka’s shoulders like he had in the bath, then worked his way down, pulling the towel lower with his strokes. She clung to it, trying to keep her nipples covered, but eventually gave in and let it puddle around her thighs.
She watched the video, transfixed, as the man worked around the girl’s towel, removed it, then had her turn over to work on the front of her. Konstantin copied the man’s actions when he could, considering Varushka wasn’t lying down. He teased and tortured her nipples when the man onscreen did it to the girl, and Varushka’s deep breaths turned into throaty but wordless complaints.
Slowly, Konstantin slid a hand down her belly and her thighs parted automatically.
“You like it when I touch you here?”
She nodded, blushing, but moved toward his hand when it was taking too long.
“I can stop if you want me to,” he reminded her.
“Why would he put his fingers in her?” she whispered, pointing at the screen.
“Does it look like she likes it?” The girl in the video was gasping and moaning, but he was happy to see she wasn’t making fake porn faces. That always disappointed him when he messed around with a girl. If a woman had the presence of mind to fake faces like that to impress him, it meant he wasn’t doing his job right.
“Yes,” she breathed. “But don’t do that to me. I think it would devirginize me.”
