by Alexis Daria
“This is how you want it?” he asked, needing to know, needing her to understand her.
“Yes.” Her voice was breathless, thready. “Yes, yes, Macho. Just like this.”
“Touch yourself.” He licked the curve of her ear, inhaling her sweetness. “Touch yourself, Tasha.”
She let go of the pool with one hand and reached between them. He felt her fingertips brush his cock and groaned, pausing when she slipped her hand lower to cup his balls. He let her fondle them for a minute, then resumed his pace. Her hand drifted away, and a moment later her fingers fluttered against her clit and his dick where they joined.
He kissed along her neck and jaw, tasting chlorine and Natasha. Her eyes closed and she bit her lip, little moans falling from her lips as her hand moved faster.
“What do you think about?” he demanded.
Her eyes cracked open a fraction, and her hand didn’t stop. “What?”
“What do you think about when I’m fucking you?”
She closed her eyes and moaned. Her body gave a little jerk against him. She was close.
He put his mouth to her ear and sucked on the lobe. Then he breathed out, in a low, deep rumble, “Natasha.”
“Nothing!” The word was half sob, half scream. Her body shivered again, and her legs tightened around him, her pelvis pumping to meet his thrusts. “Nothing. That’s why . . .”
“Why what?” He slowed his pace, pulling out and only giving her half thrusts. “Why what, Kroshka?”
She tried to pull him closer with her strong legs, but he resisted. Her voice was half sob, half gasp. “That’s why I love fucking you so much. You make my brain turn off.”
It wasn’t how he wanted to hear that word from her, but hell, he’d take it. He slammed into her, and she cried out, tightening around him. He gritted his teeth and bent his knees, changing the angle.
“Make yourself come.” He dipped his head to close his lips around one pert nipple, rolling it with his tongue.
She gasped something in Spanish he didn’t catch, and arched her back.
He lifted his head. “What was that?”
“Duro. Harder.”
He didn’t know if she meant his mouth or his cock, so he doubled his efforts on both counts, sucking harder on her tit and thrusting even deeper. She gripped his shoulder with one hand and rewarded him with a series of high-pitched moans that made his balls draw up tight.
When he switched to her other breast and laved the nipple with his tongue, she shattered. Her whole body jerked against him. Spasms rippled through her, squeezing his dick. He gave himself over to her pleasure, pumping into her in short, hard thrusts as his own orgasm roared through him and threatened to bring him to his knees.
They leaned against the wall of the pool, catching their breaths together as they sank into the water up to their necks. Dimitri pressed his face into her throat, not caring that they were sticky with sweat, sunscreen, and pool water. He just wanted to be close to her, to feel her heartbeat against his cheek.
Her shoulders lifted, and she let out a deep sigh.
“Fine,” she said in a small voice. “I’ll tell you.”
Since she was opening up to him, it was only fair he do the same. He ran his hands up and down her arms, enjoying the mix of hot skin and cool water. “Nothing you say could change my feelings for you.”
“We’ll see about that,” she muttered under her breath.
29
After they climbed out of the pool and cleaned up, they slid naked into the hot tub and turned on the jets. Dimitri sat beside her but kept his distance.
Natasha was quiet for a while. He waited, giving her space to collect her thoughts. If he pulled her into his arms now, would she let him? He didn’t try it. Instead, he rested a hand on her shoulder and caressed gently. It seemed like a good compromise. He wanted to touch her, and to let her know he was there, but he didn’t want to crowd her.
Finally, she lifted her chin and met his gaze. “No one else knows about any of this.”
“But you’re telling me.”
She nodded.
He shifted closer, drawn by anticipation. “Why?”
She turned away, looking out over the rest of the yard. No grass—too many droughts for that—but a multitude of plants that did well in the dry Southern California weather. Mostly succulents and other desert plants, like agave and cactus, with some avocado and orange trees. When he’d bought this place, he’d wanted a backyard, thinking of the big parties his uncle had thrown for every family event once he moved to a bigger house in New Jersey. So far, he’d yet to have one, though Nik had invited people over a lot when he lived here.
Natasha cleared her throat. “There’s stuff . . . I’m not ashamed, but I’m not proud, either. Ever since I decided I wanted to be a dancer, I’ve been struggling to prove I could do it. Not dancing—I know I can do that—but to actually make a living off it.”
The struggle of all creatives—to do the work, and pay the bills. He was familiar with it. “Living the dream.”
She shook her head. “It’s not about a dream, though. It’s about proving that dance is a valid, viable, realistic profession, and that I’m good enough to make it a career.”
It sounded like she was having an argument with someone else, likely her mother, but he stayed quiet.
Natasha’s eyes glimmered with sorrow and pain. “This thing is evidence of my failure. Something I never wanted anyone to know about. But I’m starting to realize . . . maybe I don’t have to hold it all in.”
“You don’t.” He slid an arm around her and cuddled next to her. “You can let me carry some of it for you. With you,” he corrected. “I can carry it with you. Together.”
She flicked a glance at him, a grateful smile on her lips. Then she looked down at the water, bubbling around them. “I guess I should start at the beginning.”
Please, he wanted to say. Please, tell me everything about you. I love you and I want to know anything you’re willing to share. Instead, he nodded.
“Remember how I told you I got into Lennox and didn’t go?”
“Yeah.”
“Gina went. I worked as a waitress and a dance teacher to make money, and did a lot of dancing with a troupe we’d joined in high school. Our plan was to move out here after Gina graduated and saved some money. But then my great-grandmother passed away.”
She sighed when he gave her a squeeze. “She was the best person in my life. Without her, it was just my mother and I in that apartment. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I moved to LA early, before Gina was ready to go.”
There was a lot she wasn’t saying, about her home life and her relationship with her mother, but he didn’t dare interrupt, now that she was finally opening up to him.
“When I got here, I blew through the money I’d saved. I’m not good at organizational stuff, like searching for the best prices on apartments or living situations. Gina’s better at that. I went on a ton of auditions, but nothing panned out. So, I took a job I knew was bad for me, because at least there, I was making money as a dancer and I was being appreciated.”
He had a feeling he knew where this was going. It was a common story. But his gut churned and his heart broke for her, imagining how desperate and sad she must have been then, alone, separated from her best friend and biggest support, missing her great-grandmother.
“I got a job at a topless bar. The one Renee works at. She’s the one who taught me to pole dance.”
There it was. As soon as he’d seen her sitting with Renee, he suspected, and the postcard for Babe Planet was another obvious clue, but he hadn’t wanted to jump to conclusions.
It meant the world to him that she’d revealed it on her own.
When he didn’t respond, she shot him a glance, brows slanted in worry.
“What?”
She blinked. “You don’t have anything to say to that?”
He shifted her into his lap. “What, you thought I would judge you? This is
a tough industry. Not everyone can hack it. But we’re New Yorkers. We can make it anywhere. Even if it means doing things other people might balk at. We’re strong enough to protect our souls and turn the experience into success.”
She exhaled, and all the tension drained out of her body. Winding her arms around him, she relaxed against his chest. “You don’t know what a huge relief it is to hear you say that.”
“You never told Gina?”
“Ay dios, no.” She huffed out a laugh into his neck. “She would never understand.”
“Are you sure about that? She’s a good friend.”
“She’s so focused on integrity and busting stereotypes, she wouldn’t get how I could ever stoop so low as to take my clothes off for money.”
He tightened his arms around her. “I hope she’d see that you were sticking to your own integrity by continuing to work as a dancer even when it got hard.”
She tilted her head back to search his face, her dark eyes glassy and full of uncertainty. “That’s . . . that’s exactly why I did it. I figured . . . at least I was still dancing.”
“So, why do you think you were a failure?”
She sighed and tucked her face back into his shoulder. “I couldn’t tell anyone about it. I had to say I was a bartender, and then I had to get a bartending job, too, just so it wouldn’t be a lie. I was working seven nights a week, but coño, I was rolling in dinero.”
“Hard to give that up.”
“Yeah. But I told myself it was only temporary, until Gina got here. Then, I would quit, no matter how good the money was. And . . . no matter how much I loved the attention.”
Her use of the word “temporary” stood out to him. It was what she’d said about living here with him. Was she here for the same reason? She loved the attention?
While he mulled that over, she ran her fingers over his chest where it met the edge of the water. The hair was growing back from the last time he’d shaved it. “Is it scratchy?” he asked.
“No.” She scraped him lightly with her nails, sending shivers of sensation across his skin. “So, you’re not . . . upset? Or, like, jealous?”
At that, he laughed. “Have you forgotten about our arrangement for the last three years?”
When she stiffened, he pulled her closer.
“So, you’re not.” The wariness was back in her eyes, in the set of her shoulders. He recognized it easily. It was how she’d always been around him, until recently.
He leaned in close and nipped her chin. “Do you want me to be?”
“No.”
Her tone was defensive. She was lying. And he was thrilled. Over-the-moon thrilled that he’d finally gotten to know her well enough to know when she was lying or defensive. He’d finally gotten to see the real Natasha, and now he knew when she was holding back. Grinning, he pressed a kiss to her ear.
“You’re lying,” he whispered.
“I’m not.” She tried to move off his lap, but he held on to her waist.
“Are you jealous? Of me with the other women?”
He stared into her eyes, waiting for an answer. Watching the emotions play over her face was a real treat, especially when she finally slapped his chest with both hands and burst out, “Sí, carajo, I’m jealous!”
He couldn’t have wiped the grin off his face if his life depended on it. “Good.”
She leaned back, eyes wide and worried. “Wait, is that why you always went off and fucked other women? To make me jealous?”
“No.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I did that because I didn’t think you cared.”
“I . . .” She closed her mouth. “Really?”
“Of course.”
She frowned. “I wanted you to think I didn’t care.”
“Aha.” He gave her a smacking kiss, full on the mouth. “That means you do care.”
She crossed her arms, pushing up her sweet, naked breasts in the process, and turned her face away. “You’ll never know.”
But she was fighting back a smile.
He leaned in to kiss her deeply when his phone rang.
Natasha lifted her head. “That sounds like an old rotary phone.”
“It’s the restaurant. We’re having a new vent system installed, and they’re all terrified of doing something wrong.”
“You mean they’re terrified of what you’ll do if they do something wrong.”
He inclined his head. “Correct.”
His hands flexed on her hips, and she smiled. “Go to work, Macho.”
“You’ll be okay here alone?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course. I’m not a baby. Just get me my crutches and I’ll manage.”
He shook his head and lifted her in his arms, carrying her out of the hot tub.
“Don’t slip,” she warned.
“Trust me.”
Her expression softened, and her fingers played in his hair, teasing the nape of his neck. “I do.”
He wanted to stay, to explore this further, but work called. They dried off and showered quickly, and once she was settled in the house, he picked up his car keys from the table by the door that led to the garage. Anticipation for the evening ahead lightened his step.
“You sure you’ll be okay without me?” After the progress they’d made, the last thing he wanted to do was leave.
She gave him a bright smile from the kitchen counter. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to look for apartments.”
His neck muscles tensed. Again with that damned apartment search. Even after everything, she was still looking for a way out. Hurt sharpened his tone. “Don’t forget, we have a burlesque show to attend tonight.”
She ducked her head. “You still want to go to that?”
“Of course. It looks like a good show.” Mostly, he wanted to go with her, to see the place where she’d worked, a place from her past. Maybe it would give him more clues about her. She’d finally revealed something, and it meant everything to him that she’d shared something she’d never told anyone else, but it also left him wanting more.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks like she was embarrassed. “You want to go to a strip club. Tonight.”
“What’s wrong with tonight?” Chert. Had he pushed too hard? When she didn’t answer, he went back to the counter and leaned on it across from her. “Natasha.” He waited until she raised her eyes to meet his. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. I don’t want to make you go if it will bring up bad memories, or make you uncomfortable.”
She shook her head. “I just don’t know why you want to go.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not for the naked women. Especially after your performance outside. I have all I need right here.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, hoping it would make her laugh.
She looked down at her laptop again, but her lips pressed together like she was hiding a smile.
“Besides,” he added. “I owe you dinner.” At her puzzled look, he explained. “I told you, if I was a success at Little Lilac, you have to go to dinner with me at the restaurant. Those kids said I was ‘awesome,’ so I think it’s obvious who won that bet.” He placed a hand on her laptop and pushed it shut. “Stop looking for apartments. Watch some TV, take a nap in our bed, whatever. You deserve to relax. I’ll text when I’m on my way back. Okay?”
She nodded, but her eyes were troubled, and he couldn’t figure out why. “Okay.”
This day had been supremely enlightening, but there was still more to learn. He could wait until tonight. With his mind full of Natasha, Dimitri left for Krasavitsa.
30
Our bed.
Dimitri’s words stayed with Natasha the rest of the day, even as she tried to take his advice. She watched TV—while looking at apartments. She tried to nap—in their bed—but couldn’t get the day’s events out of her mind.
From the way he’d charmed the children at Little Lilac to his response at finding out she’d worked as a topless dancer, Dimitri was surprising her left and right.
/> And then, to find out he’d been with other women because he thought she hadn’t cared? Eye-opening. Was it possible he’d held back all this time for the same reasons she had? Maybe he hadn’t trusted in her affections.
Or maybe he was just making excuses. But now that she’d spent so much time around him, it didn’t fit with his behavior. To get her mind off everything, she closed the rental websites and pulled up her video files to work on the piece she was choreographing.
As she watched herself move on screen and jotted her thoughts in a notebook, she had a hard time tapping into the emotions that had led her to choreograph this piece. The haunting melody and lyrics, describing a modern love that had been betrayed, no longer compelled her to move.
You burned me, the singer crooned in her smoky voice. You burned me down.
When she’d chosen this song, she’d identified with the lyrics. She felt empty and hollowed out like the husk of a house after a fire. Natasha didn’t feel burned anymore. She felt . . . seen.
Dimitri saw her. He understood. She’d told him things she’d never told anyone, not even Gina—about her time at Babe Planet, or how she’d lied about getting accepted at Lennox—and he hadn’t seen her any differently.
Hell, the man said he loved her. Nothing she knew of Dimitri indicated that he was someone who threw that word around. It had certainly never come up any of the other times they’d been together, although those times were usually all about the screwing, and he’d said the L word while yelling at her.
Besides, he’d seemed just as surprised by the admission as she was.
Still, trust didn’t come easy. Telling Dimitri her secrets left her emotions muddled and raw, like an exposed wound. Those months had been her most desperate, and here she was, back in a similar situation: broke and doing something she knew wasn’t good for her. The longer she stayed here, the more she was tempted to believe that they could . . .
She shut down that line of thinking before she could dream too big or too bold. Survival came first. Dreaming was for people in far more stable situations than she was in.