AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Again.
It’s infuriating how often that’s happened this past week. Usually, it takes a good eight to ten hours at least before my battery drains. But for some reason, I’m barely making it to midday now before it winks out.
“Whatever,” I mutter, casting my phone onto the bed. “He’s a smart man. He’ll figure it out.”
I fill the tub with warm water and what remaining bath salts I have left. I’m about to slip into the tub to relax when it strikes me that I can really help expedite the whole wind-down process if I dip into the drawer of my bedside table, which happens to contain a pack of condoms (unopened), some lube (unused) and two vibrators (both very used, and one of which is helpfully waterproof.)
Weirdly, I haven’t been able to *ahem ahem* “relax” at the penthouse. Even when I knew for certain I was alone, it always felt like I was in Dmitri’s space. Which is ironic, considering that being in his space makes me feel perpetually horny.
But maybe that’s precisely why it’s difficult to masturbate there. Because not only is he the one giving me major lady boners, but I’m also surrounded by his presence. Thinking of him and being in his home… It just feels a little too intimate. He has a fiancée, for Christ’s sake! I have no right to think about her man and get my rocks off to him while literally crashing in their home.
I’m no homewrecker.
Well—not intentionally, at least.
I gather my supplies, then slip into the tub and bring the vibrator between my legs. I’ve just coaxed it into position and turned it on when his face jumps into my head.
Those deep and intense silver eyes… That marble jaw… A nose so sharp you cut a freaking cake with it…
No. Stop it!
My eyes fly open. He is not the man I want to be thinking about right now. Who’s my usual go-to?
Uh… well, technically, it was him. But that was before I knew he had a fiancée, so it doesn’t count. And those were hate-fueled fantasies that involved me sitting on his face ‘til I suffocated him. Or sucking on his cock until his balls exploded. Or riding him hard before jumping off him just before he came.
Y’know, those kinds of fantasies. Very normal, tasteful, acceptable fare.
“Okay, an actor,” I tell myself. “Any actor.” I close my eyes again. “Let’s get me a little… Chris Evans. Mmm, right…?” But almost as soon as it appears, Chris Evans’s face starts melting like butter until he eventually morphs into…
Dmitri Egorov.
Goddammit.
At this point, though, the vibrator is doing its job with a vengeance and I apparently can’t think of a single other human male. My body is pinging with pleasure, that familiar flood of heat and tightening, and my mental faculties have decided to take a quick vacation.
So Dmitri will have to suffice.
And no sooner do I accept my fate there than does the heat and tension ratchet up several notches. I buck my hips to the surface of the water as involuntary moans escape my lips.
“Dmitri…” I whimper. “I’m yours. I’m all fucking yours…”
I underestimated just how much my body needs a release. Five minutes in and I’m pretty close to erupting. Especially with all the nasty, dirty, sexy things Dmitri is doing to me in my head.
His fingers delve deep… His lips suckle and taste and tease… He’s a hard, unwavering presence crushing me and owning me and?—
BANG!
I jerk so hard that quite a bit of the tub water ends up on the tile. Did someone just break into my apartment?! I’m in full-on panic mode when my bathroom door is shoved open and Mr. Pain-In-The-Ass-Himself storms in.
And those silver eyes blare the truth, clear as day: He. Heard. Everything.
16
DMITRI
Her phone is basically a memorial.
The cloned phone in my possession is chock full of pictures, videos, and conversations with Rose. January 16th: that was the last point of contact between them. Over two months ago now.
