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“Oh fuck, Lidiya!” I cry out her name at the same time that she moans mine, shuddering against me as her fist jerks madly up and down my throbbing shaft, my cum spurting out in a hot rush that coats her skirt and thighs and my hand and hers, and it feels better than any fucking hand job I’ve ever had, like the orgasm is coming up from my very toes and tingling through my entire body.
“Levin, Levin—” she gasps, shuddering against me, her back arching as I surge forward so that we’re pressed tightly together, and her hand drops away, my still-hard cock pressed between us as my cum spurts again, shooting over her stomach as I grind against her, my fingers buried as deeply inside of her as they can be. In that moment, I think I’d give almost anything to have her naked, so that I could see her pale skin coated with my cum, marking her as mine.
Mine.
But she’s not. And as I slowly come back to my senses, Lidiya fluttering around my fingers as my hand goes still against her, I realize what I’ve done.
She can’t be mine. Or rather, she’s myresponsibility,myjob, not my girlfriend or my lover or even my one-night stand. I’m not supposed to finger her or fuck her or do anything else with her, or her to me. I’ve risked everything, up to and including both of our lives, because I couldn’t keep control of my lust.
I’ve got to get this mission over with. I don’t know why she makes me feel like this, but it has to stop—
I step back, still breathless, and I take in the sight of her, her hair tangled around her face and her pale cheeks flushed with pleasure, bright pink spots high on her cheekbones, the flush carrying down her neck and chest. Her lips are pink and swollen from kisses, her throat thankfully unmarked—I’d managed to stop myself from doing that at least—and her skirt is still pushed up her hips, her panties pulled to one side, the black fabric of her dress stained with my cum.
She looks well-pleasured, wanton, and fucking gorgeous.
My cock, still half-hard outside of my jeans, twitches as if it wants to go for a second round, and I grit my teeth, shoving myself back into my pants as Lidiya looks at me, her eyes wide.
“What did we—” she breathes, and I shake my head.
“We can’t do it again.” I turn away, needing to put space between us before I go back on what I just said, pick her up and toss her onto the bed so that I can fuck her properly.
What the fuck, Volkov?
I’ve met a few women in my travels gorgeous enough and skilled enough to get me hard again almost immediately, to keep me lustful enough to fuck all night, but this isn’t that. Lidiya is beautiful, and I can tell just from her kisses and her body’s responses that she’s one hell of a lay, but it’s not skilled or artful like those women. Lidiya was good precisely because she was lost in her desire as much as I was, not because she was trying to turn me on.
And there’s never been any woman, no matter how into me she was, that could make me want to fuck her seconds after orgasming simply because of her enthusiasm.
“You need to call Grisha,” I say harshly, refusing to look at her. “I’ll replace your dress, or we’ll have it cleaned. We’ll do whatever we need to, but you have to go back, and do what you need to do. Or else I’ll take the money back, and I’m not responsible for what happens after that. It won’t be in my hands any longer. And don’t ask questions, Lidiya,” I add, hating every word as it comes out of my mouth, but knowing that I need to put an end to this.
I need to put distance between us.
“You won’t like the answers.”
Lidiya
Imake the call.
I do it after a shower, the black cum-stained dress discarded on the floor, my hands trembling as I step under the hot water. I tell myself that it’s to wash away Levin’s touch, but the truth is that I don’t want that. He didn’t force me to do anything. I’ve been fighting my attraction to him since I woke up in the hotel bed, since he pinned me against the door that first time, and I know it as well as he does. Tonight was just a culmination of that, and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m surprised it didn’t go farther than it did.
It was Levin who kept it from going that far, and I’m sure he knows that, too. I feel ashamed admitting it—not because I’m ashamed of enjoying myself, but because I know I shouldn’t want him. He’s practically mycaptor, for fuck’s sake, and though he’s been kind to me and hasn’t hurt me in any way, he’s blackmailing me into a situation I don’t want to be in.
He doesn’t particularly seem to want to be in it either, though,I think as I scrub away any lingering traces of him, closing my eyes under the hot water. I can’t let myself think too hard about that, though—about who he really might be or might be working for, about what other things he might have done in the past.I need to be out of this situation. Away from him, before this goes any further.
There’s only one way to accomplish that, though.
I make the call.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Grisha when he picks up, as Levin quietly collects my dress from the bathroom floor to send it down to be dry-cleaned. “I panicked—I still have all these feelings for you, and I feel so guilty…your wife–”
“She means nothing to me anymore, Lidiya,” he insists. “But you—you mean everything.”
“So you’ll forgive me?” I sniff back tears that have nothing to do with him—or rather nothing to do with wanting him to forgive me, but he believes them to be what he wants them to be.
“Of course,dorogoy,” Grisha says, clearly enjoying his ability to be on the other side of the conversation for the first time since our fight, the one forgiving instead of begging forgiveness. “Let’s have a night in, night after tomorrow. Like we used to—takeout, a movie, snuggling on the couch. It will be as if things never changed.”
I know what that means. I know what I’ll have to do. But I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I can’t wait,” I tell him, and I glance at Levin as I hang up the phone.
“It’s done,” I tell him numbly, setting the phone on top of the nightstand. “Not tomorrow night, but the night after. I’ll see him again.”
