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One more reason why I’m sure she’s just suppressing at this point.
Looks like I need to take matters into my own hands.
Contrary to what Sasha prefers, her hand is in mine.
It’s for an entirely necessary reason other than touch or seduction, and she doesn’t have any choice but to hold on to me for dear life.
“Can’t I remove the blindfold? I was wearing it during the whole car ride and you made sure I had no clue where this place is.”
“You could still pinpoint this location, so the short answer is no.”
Her nails dig into the flesh of my hand with the sole purpose of inflicting pain, but that’s okay. Her being angry and frustrated with me is still better than the bitter pill of indifference.
“Careful, we’re walking on an unsteady bridge and there’s a strong current underneath us,” I say as I lead her down a slippery dirt path with the water far enough not to reach us but close enough for her to hear the sounds.
What? I have to keep her close as much as possible.
“I know how to walk—” I start to remove my hand and she slips, then grabs onto my bicep with both hands, her nails clenching my jacket.
The late afternoon sun casts orange shadows on her pale face and parted lips. Her blonde strands fly in the wind and get in her mouth and blow over the blindfold.
She looks so beautiful with her hair down, especially since it’s grown to reach her shoulders.
I wrap an arm around her waist and whisper in her ear, “I told you to be careful.”
She purses her lips and starts to push me away.
I tighten my grip. “If you don’t want to fall to your death, stay still.”
She gives up, but only slightly. “I’m just doing this out of necessity.”
“If you say so.” I lean down and catch a whiff of her scent. It’s…like her old self, but she started wearing some perfume Karina bought for her. Its floral fragrance has a subtle note of mystery.
Note to self: Thank my sister for her immaculate taste.
This is what I would’ve imagined Sasha to smell like if I’d first met her as a woman. Soft but shrouded in mystery.
“Have we left the bridge?” she asks.
“Not yet.”
She wraps her arm around my back to get better balance. Am I enjoying this? Definitely. Maybe more than should be allowed.
This is the first time she’s willingly touched me since she came back. Some would argue I gave her no choice, but I don’t give a fuck.
I still enjoy every minute of having her warmth mixed with mine. Yes, I could’ve had Viktor drop us off in front of the safe house, but how else would I get Sasha clinging to me like this?
Too soon, we arrive at the safe house that’s about a two-hour drive from home, plus the twenty minutes in which I thoroughly enjoyed Sasha’s touch.
Also, I’m obviously sexually frustrated, because my cock won’t be on speaking terms with me until I get him in my wife’s cunt. However, he likes to twitch to life at the merest touch, so his current state is that of complete irritation.
“Are we here?” she asks tentatively.
“Almost.” I open the main door with my thumbprint. Only Viktor’s, Maksim’s, and mine can open this door, or any other door on the property.
After we’re inside, we cut through the garden and head to the annexed garage, where Anton is. I open it with my thumbprint again then remove Sasha’s blindfold.
She squints even though the sky is getting darker.
I motion ahead with my chin and she eyes me suspiciously before she carefully goes in and takes a few steps down the stairs.
The walls of the underground bunker that’s hidden beneath a garage are both soundproof and shockproof. It was built by my father to withstand bombs if need be. Not sure who he thought would bomb him, but he was always paranoid to a fault.
Other than that, the space is large, so the metal bed in the corner and the few shelves scattered around look like a toddler’s attempt at decorating.
Sasha stops when she spots her brother sitting cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed and hands resting nonchalantly on his knees as if he’s in a meditating position.
The cuffs that should be around his wrists are hanging from the wall.
Maksim is doing one-handed push-ups on the other side of the room, but he stands upon seeing us.
Sasha runs to Yuri—sorry, Anton. Don’t expect me to keep track of his multiple personalities.
“Tosha.” She stops beside him.
He opens his eyes, stares at Maksim and me, then focuses back on his sister with a cold expression. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean? I came to check on you.”
“Leave,” he orders. “And I don’t mean here, but the country.”
I’m going to kill the bastard.
