by Vivian Wood
It’s incredible to watch, so hot I’m a little afraid I’ll come without even getting to fuck her, but I can’t stop, like I’m hypnotized by how sexy she is as she moves more and more insistently. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be here, to be the one watching her fuck my fingers, and flexing her hips hard against my hand half-buried in her tight, warm pussy.
She moves like she needs this, like she’s barely in control of herself any more.
I bend over to kiss her and she opens her eyes in surprise, going motionless.
“Jesus, don’t stop,” I whisper. “I could watch you fuck my hand all day.”
She swallows, then moves her hips again slowly until my fingers are in her to the third knuckle and I flex them, just barely. Hazel bites her lip and arches like she needs more, giving me a look that’s so raw and needy it takes my breath away.
“Stop torturing me, Kostya,” she whispers.
I finally grab the condom from the pillow, tear the wrapper off with my teeth and unroll it one-handed onto my desperately-hard cock. Hazel watches me, hips working against my hand until the condom is on, and then she reaches down and takes the hand that’s in her by the wrist.
She keeps my fingers in her as she rolls over onto her hands and knees. I move my fingers inside her one more time, harder than before, and she rocks back into me for a long moment before I pull my fingers out and slide them over to take her by the hip.
I push Hazel forward until she’s on her knees, both hands around the post of the four-poster bed, hips back, and I’m right behind her. She reaches back and grabs the back of my head so I lean forward and kiss the corner of her mouth, the only part I can reach, and Hazel half-laughs and then bites my lip.
“Fuck me, Kostya,” she says.
I growl at her and the tip of my cock is at her entrance. She’s so wet and slick that I just slide along her lips, like it’s my first time or something.
I bite her earlobe and she reaches down, grabs my cock, and pushes the tip inside her.
I exhale and grab the bedpost myself, because I want to bury myself inside her right then. But I’m still afraid of hurting her, so I stroke her hip and pull back a fraction of an inch so I can slide in further, little by little.
But then Hazel pushes herself back and before I know it, I’m balls-deep inside her and I hear myself grunt into her hair, a primal, animal noise I didn’t even know I could make.
“Oh, fuck,” Hazel gasps. I open my eyes to see that her knuckles are white on the bedpost. Her pussy flexes around me so hard I can barely think straight.
“You okay?” I whisper into her hair, desperately trying to keep it together, just hoping I’m speaking English and praying I’m not hurting her.
“I’m fine,” she whispers, and clenches around me so hard I have to take a deep breath. “Fuck, I’m fine. Jesus, Kostya.”
She moves her hips forward an inch and then pushes back again.
“Oh, my god, I’m fine,” she breathes. She moves again, rocking her hips forward and then pushing back and each time she does she lets out a breathless little moan.
I lean my forehead against the back of her head and just watch my cock disappear into her, my thumb in the dimple on her back as I let her fuck me, trying as hard I as I can to stay in control.
It’s hard. It’s almost impossible, and it’s almost all I can do to close my eyes and press my face into her hair.
Suddenly she slides back and then stops, wrapping her arm backward around me. It’s a little awkward but I lean into her.
“This?” I growl, pushing against her.
Hazel just moans and moves her hips so I just barely move inside her.
“Fuck yes that,” she says, and then her hand is on the side of my face and she’s twisting toward me.
“Kiss me while you’re inside me,” she whispers.
I lean forward and she leans backward, and the angle’s not quite right but we kiss anyway as we move against each other. I can tell I’m nearly at the end of my rope, nearly out of whatever self-control I had left, and when I pull away from her I kiss her shoulder and pinch one nipple.
“I don’t have much longer,” I murmur into her ear, rocking against her. “I can only be inside you for so long before I explode, zloyushka.”
She moves her hips again, harder, and we both groan at the same time. Hazel leans her head forward until it’s resting on the bed post. We move together, and we start out slow and deliberate but it builds and builds until I’m driving hard into her with every stroke, pulling her hips back against me as if I can somehow get deeper.
“Oh that’s good,” she whispers, and I do it again and again until suddenly she pushes back and grabs my shoulder. I’m sunk completely inside her as her hips flex, her pussy muscles fluttering and squeezing.
“Kostya, I’m gonna come so fucking hard,” she gasps.
I move my hand to her clit and rub.
“Good. I love feeling you come,” I whisper.
She explodes, moaning, her pussy clamping down as she rocks back and forth and in seconds I’m coming too, growling in her ear as I come harder and longer than I ever have in my entire life as she keeps moving.
At last we both slow, and then finally stop. I’ve got an arm locked around her waist now and I don’t remember doing that, but I hold her close and her chest expands and falls against my arm.
All of a sudden, in that afterglow, I feel wildly, almost insanely protective of her, like she’s mine and I’d fight a tiger bare-handed if it came into the room right now. I don’t know what to do so I kiss her on the top of her head and hold her tight. After a moment she lets go of the bedpost and slides her hand over mine, lacing our fingers together.
I squeeze, she squeezes back, and maybe for the first time in my life everything feels quiet and still and right.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hazel
Kostya kisses me on the top of my head, and then clumsily on my ear. I squeeze his hand, let him go, and we finally untangle ourselves from each other. He grabs tissues from the bedside table, wraps the condom in them and tosses the whole gross bundle back onto the table, but I couldn’t care less.
I sit up against the headboard, the pillows behind my back, and he lets me pull him in until he’s leaning against me, his head on my chest, my right arm slung over him. I run my hand through his hair and he makes a barely-audible grunt, somewhere low in his chest.
“You purring?” I murmur.
“I’m contented,” he says. “Like a house cat in a sunbeam. Meow.”
I laugh and he smiles, then plants a kiss on the inside of my elbow.
The bedroom is mostly dark, but the curtains are translucent enough to let some moonlight through. We sit there, like that, for a long time. I stroke Kostya’s hair, my other arm across his chest, and he strokes my arm with his fingertips, back and forth.
I’ve never seen him like this before, perfectly relaxed and totally unguarded, sprawled across the bed like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I get the feeling that not many people have seen Kostya like this. Maybe none.
“I’m getting better at that,” he says, his voice low and slow and sleepy.
“At what?” I say, still twisting my fingers in his hair.
“At making you laugh,” he says. “That time I even meant to do it.”
I laugh again, leaning against the headboard.
“Thanks,” I say.
“This is why we’re not a secret,” he says. “My mother told me tonight that I light up like a lantern when I’m around you.”
“I thought it was because I act like a shy teenager when we’re together,” I murmur.
He looks at me, eyebrows raised.
“Shy?” he asks.
“I mean in public,” I say.
“Good,” he says. “Don’t be shy around me.”
“We’re naked right now because you just fucked my brains out,” I say. “If that’s shy, I’d almost hate to see not shy.”
; I’m sliding downward slowly, the pillows shifting under me, so now I’m at a forty-five degree angle and Kostya’s head is on my stomach. He turns his head and kisses it, and I think both of us are slowly falling asleep, tangled together in a mass of limbs and bed sheets and pillows.
“Do you have to leave?” I finally ask.
“No,” he says.
“You sure?” I ask.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Kostya asks.
“I just don’t want you disowned, exiled, and penniless,” I tease.
I meant to make him laugh, but instead his face goes serious and he looks at me.
“I’m just going to tell him,” he says, his gray eyes steady. “He can’t do anything. He won’t disown me. He can’t force me to marry anyone. All he can do is be angry, and I don’t care any more.”
I hold my breath and bite my lip.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
Kostya just nods.
I’m not sure how to phrase this next thing, so I take a deep breath and just let some words fly out of my mouth.
“We’ve only known each other for what, a week and a half?” I ask. “I don’t want you to ruin your relationship with your father over something that might not...”
I swallow, and Kostya’s just staring at me.
“I mean, it’s just, you know, what if I go home at the end of the month and, like, you come to your senses or something and realize that you fucked up your relationship with your dad because of some American girl?” I say, all in one breath.
“Zloyushka, what the hell are you talking about?” he asks. “I’m at my senses. However you say that.”
“What if it turns out I’m a serial killer?” I say.
For some reason it’s the first thing that pops into my head.
“Then we’ll deport you back to the U.S. to stand trial, and I’ll still have made it clear to my father that he doesn’t control who I’m with,” Kostya says.
It sounds so sensible when he says it out loud.
“I’m not a serial killer,” I say.
“I didn’t think so,” he says.
Then he lifts himself off my stomach and puts his head next to mine. He takes my hand in his and locks our fingers together.
“I know relationships don’t work out sometimes,” he says. “But I climbed up two stories of stone wall with a plant in my mouth because I thought it might make you smile. And it did. And it was worth it, because I feel like I’m the moon when you smile at me, and I would be an idiot if I didn’t at least try.”
He kisses my hand, and I don’t answer, because there’s suddenly a lump in my throat.
“Tell me now if I’m wrong about this and I shouldn’t try,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
“No,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “I mean, no, you’re not wrong. You should try. We should try.”
Stop talking, I think.
“Good,” he says, simply. “I’ll talk to him when he’s back from Kiev.”
He pushes my hair out of my face with his other hand, and then kisses my forehead.
“Do all Americans make everything seem so complicated?” he asks.
“That was nothing,” I say.
After a few more minutes we both get out of the bed. I find him an extra toothbrush and he brushes his teeth as I get the rest of my makeup off, totally naked the whole time. As he leaves the bathroom, he puts one hand on my ass and squeezes just a little, kissing me on the cheek.
“I like seeing you naked,” he says. “I’ll be in your bed.”
He leaves the bathroom and I blink at myself in the mirror, then smile. When I get in bed he’s half asleep, and he rolls over and puts one arm over my stomach.
“Spokushki,” he says.
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” I say, and I’m asleep almost instantly.
It feels like thirty minutes later that there’s a knock on my door, but the sun is already streaming through the windows. I’m lying on my stomach and Kostya has one arm and one leg half-slung over me, his face buried in the fluffy white pillow.
I hear the knock again, and this time he wakes up, too.
“Who is it?” he asks me.
“I don’t know yet,” I whisper, getting out of bed. “Stay out of sight,” I say, and put on the black bathrobe that came with the room.
“You want me to hide in the closet or something?” he asks, his voice extra raspy and gravelly.
“Just don’t walk out naked,” I whisper, and close the door slightly behind me.
You can’t see the bedroom door from the front door, and it’s probably just someone who wants to know if I have any laundry, so I’m not that worried about it.
It’s not.
It’s my mother, and she’s in a bit of a state.
“Hazel, can I borrow your deodorant?” she asks. sweeping past me and into my rooms.
“Sure, just stay there, I can—”
She sweeps past me, into my living room, toward the bathroom.
“I know we both get the nervous sweats, so yours will probably work pretty well,” she says.
“Yes, it’s fine, let me go find it though the bathroom’s kind of a mess so—”
She’s not listening. She’s looking past me in the direction of the bedroom.
All my insides wrap themselves around my windpipe, and I follow her gaze, praying that I don’t see Kostya standing there, totally naked with morning wood.
I don’t. The bedroom door opened itself, like doors in old houses do, and lying in full view on an ottoman in the bedroom is his formal military jacket. Even from here, it’s perfectly obvious what it is.
“Deodorant’s in the bathroom!” I say, and grab her arm, trying to haul her away, like I can magically make her unsee the jacket.
“Hazel,” she says, and gives me her cut-the-bullshit look.
It’s a strong one.
“Please tell me that jacket belongs to one of the many pudgy, middle-aged generals who were in attendance last night, and not the crown prince of Sveloria,” she whispers.
I swallow.
“It belongs to a general?” I whisper back, heat flooding my face.
She gives me the look again.
“Just leave and pretend you never saw it,” I whisper. “It’s fine.”
My mother glares at the jacket.
“At least tell me it was just the once,” she says.
I open my mouth, then shut it. My face has gone nuclear.
“You’re the diplomat,” I whisper. “I’m on vacation!”
“It’s still bad form!” she whispers. “Now this has to be disclosed to the state department, there’s paperwork, you have to give a statement to the embassy. It’s a whole mess now.”
“There’s paperwork about who I, uh...”
“Unless you just snuggled all night, yes, there’s paperwork,” she whispers. “And, actually, yes, even then, so never mind.”
She glances at the door again, and I hear a slight rustle inside the room. I’m sure Kostya can hear all this.
“At least tell me you were careful,” she says, her voice dropping to an actual whisper. “You’ve still got that IUD, right?”
“Yes, and we were careful and I’m not an idiot, mom,” I say.
She looks like she might disagree, but there’s another rustle in the bedroom and we both look over.
Kostya steps into the doorway, bedsheets wrapped around him several times, very securely.
“Good morning, Ambassador Towers,” he says, nodding his head slightly, one hand holding the sheets firmly in place.
“Good morning, Konstantin Grigorovich,” she says, her tone very, very formal.
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb.
“Could you please call each other Eileen and Kostya and not make this any weirder than it already is, for fuck’s sake?” I say.
My mother takes a deep breath.
“Hello, Kostya,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.�
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“Hello, Eileen,” he says. “I didn’t know Hazel would have a visitor this morning,” he says, his tone exactly as formal as hers.
“I didn’t know either,” I point out, my eyes still squeezed shut.
“You’re accompanying my father to the economic summit in Kiev, correct?” he goes on.
“I am,” she says.
Kostya and I look at each other.
“Please don’t tell him,” I say. “Please, Mom.”
“I would prefer to talk to my father about this myself, when he returns,” Kostya says. “He should hear it from me.”
My mother sighs and crosses her arms in front of herself.
“Of course,” she says, her voice softening a little.
“My deepest thanks,” Kostya says, sounding very formal for someone who’s wearing my bed sheets.
We all look at each other in silence for a moment.
“I should be leaving,” my mother says.
“A pleasure to see you,” Kostya says, and I nearly roll my eyes.
“You as well,” my mom says, then looks at me. “Deodorant?”
I grab it from the bathroom, then escort her back to my front door. Kostya goes back into the bedroom and closes the door, firmly this time.
Inside the front door, my mom crosses her arms in front of her.
“He’s telling his father and I had to find out this way?” she asks.
“You weren’t supposed to,” I say.
She glances at the closed bedroom door again and thinks for a moment.
“I had some suspicions,” she admits. “We were hoping you were just flirting.”
I make an oops face.
“Everyone says he’s much more reasonable than his father, at least,” she says. Her voice softens a little. “And he’s got a cuter butt.”
I go scarlet again.
“Mom,” I hiss, but she just laughs.
Then she puts one hand on my shoulder.
“You like him for more than his cute butt?” she asks, softly.
I just nod.