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No. No way.
But, one thing at a time. I take a deep breath. The first thing is to stay safe from Sergey. And I have the guys to help with that.
At least, that’s what they’re promising.
Then, I can worry about next steps.
Merry fucking Christmas I think, twirling my new bracelet around my wrist.
* * *
Suddenly,to my surprise, we’re back in New York City, the very place I thought we were supposed to be avoiding. But the guys promise they have someone tailing Sergey, and that everything will be fine.
It’s not like I have much say in the matter, anyway.
After an afternoon of trying on clothes at the very Christmas-y Bergdorf Goodman, a store I’ve been inside of only once, where I’d splurged on a lipstick just to buy one little thing there, we head downtown to a restaurant I’ve never heard of, which the guys are raving about. I have no complaints, if I really think about it. I have a couple shopping bags of new things and am about to get another free meal with three good-looking men. What the hell, it’s the Christmas season.
I’m getting really good at looking at the bright side of things.
For example, the ride from the Hudson Valley to the city takes two hours. Do you think I sat in the backseat of the stretch limo the whole way, looking out the window?
No. No, I did not.
Since my Christmas Day encounter in the kitchen with Grisha, I’ve wanted more. Lots more. Yet I’m really not sure how to approach the guys. Strangely, they haven’t initiated anything… sexy. Which is strange. So, I lay in bed last night, taking care of business, all by myself. Their indifference toward me, even though they’re perfectly polite, is driving me crazy.
Maybe it’s designed to do that. If so, it’s working.
For our day in the city, I’m wearing a short, lacy, fitted dress with high heels. And it just so happens, my hem rises as I sit, exposing a nice swath of leg.
And the band of my thigh-high stockings.
This does not go unnoticed.
I run my fingertips along my hem and fake-bashfully shimmy my dress down in a pretend attempt at modesty. But Artem can’t stop staring, which is kind of the point. At the other end of the limo, the brothers are deep in conversation about one thing or another. But I’ll have their attention soon.
With Artem on the bench seat opposite me, I cross and uncross my legs very slowly, absentmindedly leaving my knees parted for longer than I need to. When he gets a flash of my nude panties and what lies below them, a corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile, and his gaze rises to meet mine.
When he sees me staring back at him, the other corner of his mouth curls to meet the first, and his sexy smile washes over me like a thousand teasing pin pricks. He gestures toward my crossed knees with his chin while waving his fingers from side to side.
I get the message.
So, I open my knees a bit more.
Again, he waves his fingers from side to side.
Biting my lower lip, I look toward the other end of the limo, where Grisha and Valentin remain deep in conversation. I turn back to Artem and part my knees a good three or four inches, enough to see my pussy through my panties. The goods are still obscured by shadows, though.
So, he waves his hand again.Spread them more.
But this time, I wrinkle my brow, like I don’t understand.
He raises his eyes as if to saywatch yourself, young lady.
And that’s all I need. Blood rushes to my core, and a heavy throb begins to build in the very spot where Artem’s gaze is glued. I’ve never thought of myself as an exhibitionist, but I want Artem toseeme. I want them all toseeme. I am tired of being invisible, unremarkable, and always so damn dutiful. I want to do something wicked to show these guys that I can, that I’m not a goody two-shoes, but rather a passionate woman with needs.
And I guess I also want to showmyselfthat I can, that I’m more than some boring-ass wage slave who has nothing going on in her life besides her job.
So I part my legs more, and with my hands on my hem, slide my dress up until the V of my panties peeks out. I feel so sexy. Iamso sexy. And powerful.
