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“You look beautiful, Lidiya,” he says as he opens the door wider, and I step inside.
There’s a spread of charcuterie and decanted red wine on the coffee table in the living room, the fire in the white marble fireplace already roaring. I slip my velvet boots off at the edge of the living room, my toes sinking into the plush white rug. Grisha is dressed casually for him—black cashmere joggers and a fitted grey v-neck t-shirt, and I know exactly how this night is going to go.
We’re going to chat a little, nibble at the food and drink the wine, and then he’s going to test my boundaries. He’ll get closer and closer, touching more and more, until I have a choice—give in, or run a second time.
I won’t get another chance, from either Levin or Grisha, I know. I have to follow through with this.
I drink a little more than I might otherwise—not so much that I might be drunk and slip up, but enough to take the edge off. It’s not hard. The wine is delicious, rich and fruity on the tongue, pairing well with the rest of the expensive spread. I nibble at it, not able to work up much of an appetite, but it doesn’t seem to matter.
“What have you been doing, while we’ve been apart?” I ask him casually, pouring a little more wine in his glass from the decanter. “You never used to tell me much about your work. I was always curious.” I nestle a little closer to him, my heart starting to pound from the line of questioning, but if he notices I’m sure he’ll be egotistical enough to think that it’s because of him.
Grisha shrugs. “It’s all terribly boring.”
“I don’t think I could find anything you do boring.” The words burn on my tongue, but I manage them anyway. I reach for a dried cherry from the tray on the coffee table, sliding it between his lips, brushing my fingertip over the edge of one as he takes it. I see the twitch of his cock beneath the fabric of his joggers, which doesn’t surprise me. I didn’t have any doubt I could turn him on. My worry now is whether or not I can make it worthwhile.
“Very flattering, Lidiya, but I promise it would bore you to tears.” His hand slides over my shoulder, fingering the neckline of my dress. “A great deal of math is involved, and I know how much you hate math.”
He leans forward, and my heart stutters in my chest, knowing what’s about to happen.
His lips, cool and damp from the wine, brush over my skin. I shudder in revulsion, but he doesn’t know the difference between that and desire. He’s no Levin, that’s for sure.
Levin.It occurs to me that the memory of what we did yesterday won’t just be revenge. It will be my salvation. Grisha will notice if I don’t get wet, but just the flicker of memory of Levin’s lips sliding up my thigh is enough to make my core clench, the inner folds of my pussy fluttering with the reminder of how his tongue felt on my clit.
Not only will I get wet, I’ll do it remembering Levin’s tongue, his four fingers stretching me like he would with his cock, that same cock I had between my lips as I swallowed his cum.
The same lips Grisha is moving up to kiss, groaning as his cock hardens, setting his wine glass and mine aside as he pulls me closer.
And suddenly, with the ember of revenge warming me, it feelsgood.
Maybe this won’t be so difficult after all.
Levin
I’ve always been told that if the thought of one woman is tormenting you, the quickest remedy is to get a different one in bed.
Not that I’d know. I’ve never let a woman get under my skin to that extent. But I suppose there’s a first time for everything—and for me, Lidiya is apparently that.
The only way I’ve been able to keep myself from tossing her onto the bed and fucking her until she screams my name all over again is by keeping away from her as much as possible. That, and drinking until I’m not sure I could have gotten my cock up anyway.
After eating her out and letting her suck me until I came in her mouth, I’ve had the desperate, driving urge to fuck her so thoroughly before she went to see Grisha that he’d feel the shape of my cock when he got inside her. That possessiveness is precisely why I kept away—and why I’m at a bar tonight while Lidiya is on her date, trying to both drink and fuck away my burning need for her.
She’s just a woman,I tell myself as I order a vodka, neat, and take up my spot at the bar.A beautiful one, but nothing extraordinary. This city is full of them.
The problem is, of course, that she has that certain something that I never expected to find in a woman, that indefinable quality that makes her extraordinary tome. I’ve finally found the woman that’s my Achilles heel, and of course, she’s the one that I should not, under any circumstances, have.
I ignore anyone who comes up to the bar that’s blonde. I don’t want to imagine Lidiya’s face on a womanlikeher, I want to not think about her at all. But no matter who walks up—brunette, red-head, rich black hair—slender or curvy or athletic, I can’t stop comparing them to her.
“Broken heart?”
I glance next to me to see a gorgeous woman of nearly my height standing there, looking at me with an amused smirk on her face. She’s willowy and flat-chested, with a gold minidress held on by a chain draped over her burnished skin, her thick black hair falling nearly to her ass in a waterfall of silk. I have an instant vision of that hair wrapped around my fist as I push the uneven skirt over her smooth hips and pound into her from behind, and I feel a wave of relief that’s almost orgasmic in and of itself.
At least I can still fantasize about another woman.
“Mute, too?” The woman’s full lips twitch as she takes a martini from the bartender, clear and cool with a lemon twist. She lifts it to her mouth, and a drop clings to her cupid’s bow as she lowers it. I have the urge to lick it away.
“Not so dramatic as that,” I say finally, turning towards her so that I’m facing her fully. “You could say I—have some things on my mind.”
“And are you looking to stop thinking about them?” She smiles, one hand dropping to my knee as she leans closer, and I can’t help but smile back.
