by A. Zavarelli
His hand cups the matching lace thong and his thumb pushes the material against me. I don’t make a sound, but my hips jerk and inside I’m begging him for more.
I like it when he touches me.
When he makes me forget. And makes me feel alive too. His hand on me is large. And I feel safe with him. He doesn’t let me get away with anything. But he doesn’t hurt me either.
“You are wet for me already,” he says, his voice husky.
I don’t reply, and he doesn’t say anything else either. His fingers move the thong aside and slip inside of me. Casually playing with me while he drives. His eyes on the road, his forearm flexing as his hand moves inside of me.
My head falls back against the seat and my legs splay wider. The wife he dressed to look so classy right now looks anything but.
“Take your tits out,” he says. “I want to see them.”
I pull the material of the dress down over my shoulders, trapping my arms and forcing my breasts out. They are hard and aching when he reaches up to squeeze one in his palm, leaving me cold down below.
“Play with yourself while I watch,” he tells me.
I try, but swiftly give up.
“It’s better when you do it.”
He smiles at me and returns his palm between my thighs, giving me exactly what I need.
“Your foot,” he reminds me. “To give yourself the pain if you want.”
I do. And it only takes a couple minutes before I’m feeling on edge. Unable to tear my eyes away from Alexei. The way his wedding ring gleams against the steering wheel on his left hand. He wears it proudly.
Sometimes it’s still hard to accept that this man is my husband.
He’s more than that.
He’s my savior. My unwilling hero. And the thing that is most dangerous of all.
My hope.
“Be a good girl and come for me, yes?”
I do.
I come hard for him. And he pulls his fingers from me and sucks them into his mouth before placing his hand back on the steering wheel.
The car is quiet, except for my loud breathing as I come down from the high. He doesn’t speak. Or say anything else. Ask for anything else.
But I want to give it to him regardless.
I unbuckle and balance my knees on my seat, leaning over into his space. I kiss his throat and jaw, and then briefly, his lips when he turns into me.
My hand is fumbling with his zipper. His belt. I get them undone, and lower my head towards his groin. When I pull his cock free and get him into my mouth, Alexei grips the back of my head with his right hand, pushing me down further.
He drives, and I suck him off. My head bobbing up and down in his lap with the guidance of his hand. The insistence. He groans and then comes in my mouth.
“Swallow it all, Solnyshko,” he tells me.
My throat works around his cock, doing exactly as he orders. And only then does he release his hold on me, his fingers stroking over my face.
“Good girl.”
I put him back together, zipping him up and buckling his belt. And then linger in his space to kiss him on his throat once more. It’s a stupid thing to do. And it’s too much.
“Buckle yourself in,” he orders.
I move back to my side of the car, putting myself back together and buckling the seat belt. When I stare out the window, my throat is clogged, and I don’t know why.
Alexei’s hand finds mine, his warmth enveloping and surprising me.
“You are the perfect wife,” he tells me. “Perfect for me, Solnyshko.”
I look at him and nod.
I don’t know if it’s an insult or a compliment.
30
Talia
The Christmas party is held at what can only be described as a compound. Every car is checked at the gate, and every guest vetted before they enter.
And in that moment, I realize that my life here with Alexei is not so different from how I lived at Arman’s. Only now, the same security measures that felt like a vice grip around my neck feel safe.
Alexei parks the car and tells me to wait, coming around to open my door for me. He is old fashioned in these ways. A man who values tradition. It is a rare quality. And for the briefest of moments, when he takes my arm in his, I feel a flash of pride from the idea of being at his side tonight.
We are greeted at the door by several men I do not recognize, nor understand. They speak in their native tongue, except for when Alexei makes introductions. Even then, they barely glance at me, except to nod and congratulate me on my nuptials. A sign of respect, I think. For Alexei.
It makes me curious. Exactly what his position in the organization is. I don’t even know what he does. But when I look up at him, looking down at me, I don’t care either.
He keeps me safe. He protects me.
He saved me.
Even now, in this room full of his own friends, he shields me with his body. Keeping me pulled close to his side and ready to destroy anyone who dares to enter my orbit.
We sit down to dinner within minutes of our arrival. A feast consisting of breads and pies, borscht and fresh fruit and nuts throughout the meal. Alexei keeps his arm across the back of my chair while we eat, sheltering me while he carries on conversation with the man across from us.
Viktor.
The same voice that called me a whore.
From his position at the table, I can see he is important. The most important man here tonight. He is served first, and nobody eats until he has taken the first bite. These men respect him. Alexei respects him. But I still can’t bring myself to truly respect him. So I keep my attention diverted to my plate and the food until the meal is over.
After a round of drinks is served, music starts to play from the other room, and the guests begin to migrate in that direction.
“You must take your new bride for a spin, Lyoshenka,” Viktor says.
Alexei looks uncomfortable with the suggestion. But still, he nods. And then he takes me by the hand, leading me into the other room.
“One dance?”
It sounds like a question, but already, he’s positioning my body close to his. Our right hands clasped together, his left on my lower back. Which we quickly discover isn’t going to work due to the height difference.
But Alexei is not one to let something like that stop him. So he kneels down and places my hands on his shoulders while he removes my heels. When he stands up again, the distance between us is even further, and I look up at him with questioning eyes.
“On my feet,” he instructs as he lifts me up and deposits my feet onto his shoes.
“Now wrap your arms around my waist.”
I do.
“Good girl,” he tells me.
And then we’re off. Dancing slowly, my cheek pressed against his warm chest. I don’t have to do anything but hold on, and we quickly garner the attention of some of the other couples around the floor. Some are laughing, jesting about his size.
But Katya is definitely not.
And when I see her standing next to another man, his eyes cold and lasered in on me, it makes me tense. He has been to our house before. To celebrate our marriage. But he did not speak to me. And right now, it looks as though he hates me.
Katya whispers something in his ear, and he brings his drink to his lips.
“Do not pay them any attention.” Alexei’s voice cuts through my thoughts, his fingers turning my gaze up to him.
Our eyes lock, and it’s easy enough to forget them as he asked. Because I’m captivated by the man holding me in his arms right now. Staring down at me with what feels like genuine emotion.
His eyes are warm, and it warms me too.
And then he does something unexpected. He leans down and kisses me. Not to put on a show. But because he wants to. It’s soft and tender, and I can feel him hardening against me as our bodies move in tandem.
I stretch up to meet his lips, which soon move to my throat. And for a moment, we both seem
to forget that we’re in the middle of a party. That anyone else exists outside of us.
Until Viktor’s voice cuts through the haze and he slaps Alexei on the back.
Alexei reluctantly pulls his mouth from me and positions me in front of his body, his arms wrapped around my waist while he speaks with Viktor in Russian.
More than a few times during the conversation, Viktor’s gaze moves to me, and it’s obvious that I’m the topic at hand. But the disgust he felt for me before isn’t there, in his eyes. It’s something else. It’s warmth, and what looks to me like sincere happiness. It confuses me.
“It is time for the men to talk business,” he says in English. “Why don’t you send your little dove off to mingle, Lyoshenka.”
I tense against him, and he turns me in his arms.
“You will spend time with the other women tonight,” he says with a small shrug. “Tradition. The men in this room, the women over there.”
I follow the direction of his nod and my fingers move over the star on my hand.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I have someone I’d like you to meet. I think you will be more… compatible with her.”
I don’t know what he means by that. But as he leads me in the direction of the women, all of their eyes on me, I feel like a lamb being led to slaughter.
They are looking at me as if I don’t belong. The same way Katya looks at me when she sees me with Alexei. As if I don’t deserve the man on my arm.
And they are probably right.
“Tanaka,” he calls out.
A girl around my age looks up at us from her chair where she is sitting alone. Not speaking with anyone around her. She is beautiful. With raven hair and amber eyes, and a reserved smile as her attention moves from Alexei to me.
I give her my own reserved smile before Alexei grasps my shoulders and smooths his palms down my arms in what can only be a comforting gesture.
“You will be just fine, Solnyshko,” he tells me. “You have your star, yes?”
I touch it and nod.
“I’ll be just a few short steps away if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
He waits until I am seated beside Tanaka and gives me one last glance, as though he too is hesitant to leave me. But he does.
And then it’s just Tanaka and I, in somewhat awkward silence for a few moments before she speaks.
“I don’t fit in here either,” she tells me.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
When I look at her, I can’t tell if she knows my background. But she seems to see me. And recognize something in me that she too is familiar with.
“I am simply collateral,” she tells me. “My father owes a large debt, and I am in Nikolai’s charge until he comes through with it.”
“Oh,” is my only reply.
I don’t want to feel sorry for her because sympathy is what gets you in trouble. But the more I examine her, the more I don’t think it is sympathy she needs anyway.
“When do you think that will be?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “Never. My father cannot pay.”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “So what will happen to you?”
She sighs and then glances across the room. A flicker of something moves through her eyes when her gaze lands on Nikolai. Who is currently speaking to Katya, her hand on his arm like she owns him. It takes me a moment to read the emotion in Tanaka’s eyes. She has feelings for him. For her captor.
“Whatever Nikolai decides,” she says, tearing her gaze away.
I feel the need to comfort her. But I don’t have the right words.
“I was collateral too,” I blurt.
She looks at me and smiles. “Yes, I know.”
“You do?”
“I overheard Nikolai mention you.”
“Oh.”
The conversation dies off for a moment, and when I look around, I see more than a few questioning gazes being directed our way.
“Don’t worry,” Tanaka says. “You will get used to it. They don’t like you because they will never be you.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell her.
“Your husband.” She nods to the other room. “He is the ah… councilor to Viktor. He outranks their husbands in every way. Which means that you do also.”
“Oh.”
My mouth is dry, and I seem to have lost all conversational skills. Tanaka is kind though, and she just continues to talk, seemingly glad to have company.
“They are very traditional,” she says. “You will be starting a family soon, yes?”
I wring my hands in my lap. “That is what Alexei says.”
Except, family isn’t what Alexei and I have. It is an arrangement. Which I can never forget. Even when I glance at him across the room and find him looking back at me, a slight tilt to his lips.
“He is handsome,” Tanaka remarks. “You are lucky. Nikolai speaks very highly of him.”
“He does?”
I find that odd since I noticed the tension between the two on the last occasion. Alexei never even introduced us.
“He does.” Tanaka nods. “I do find it strange though. How similar they look in some regards. Don’t you?”
I can’t read her expression. But I don’t think she finds it strange at all. I think she’s trying to tell me something.
But then the man in question is at her side, speaking to her in Russian. By all outward appearances, he seems indifferent to her. But his focus on her lingers a little too long for that to be true. And it breathes hope into me. That Tanaka will not be lost to this world that seems to have trapped her too.
“Talia.” Nikolai bows in my direction. “I haven’t had a chance to properly introduce myself.”
I’m not sure what to do. If I’m supposed to rise to meet him. Or shake his hand. Or any of the protocols, really. But Nikolai puts my worries at ease when he kneels so that he is on the same level as Tanaka and I.
He has a friendly smile on his face. But his voice is low and serious when he speaks.
“I need to speak with you,” he says.
I look at Tanaka, her gaze reassuring and steady. As though she trusts Nikolai implicitly. And I should do the same. It eases my discomfort a little as he presses on.
“Alexei will not listen to me,” he says. “He won’t speak with me. But I know he will listen to you.”
I shift in my seat and simply nod.
“Sergei is not going to let this go. Neither is Katya, for that matter. You should both be careful.”
“Nikolai…” Tanaka’s voice cuts him off, and then a shadow falls over us.
Alexei.
His gaze is fixed on Nikolai, who stands up to face him. Angry words pass between them, both of their hands gesturing in a way that signals a long history of bad blood between them.
Only when Nikolai’s shoulders fall in defeat, does Alexei turn to me. Gripping me by the arm and yanking me from the chair. Scolding me like a child for all to see.
“You are my wife,” he hisses into my ear. “You can no longer conduct yourself the way you did at Arman’s.”
His words are like acid to my insides.
“You mean like a whore?” I pull back to look at him.
His eyes are cold, filled with accusation and anger. No trace of the man who kissed me on the dance floor only thirty minutes ago.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” he answers.
My throat is clogged, and there are tears threatening to spill over. I don’t want him to see me cry. I don’t want him to see that he has that power over me. The power to hurt me.
“Go to the wash room and compose yourself,” he demands. “And when you come back, perhaps you can make it through the rest of the evening with better judgment.”
Tanaka stands up, her voice soft and quiet when she speaks. “I will accompany her.”
“You will not,” Alexei barks. “She must learn how to conduct herself at these events.”
&nbs
p; And then he releases me from his grip, leaving the tears to spill down my face as I make my walk of shame down the hall and to the bathroom.
I lock myself in and cry for twenty minutes. I have not cried so much in as long as I can remember. Because I know now that all my bravado has been for nothing. Alexei does have the power to hurt me. Just as I do him.
But it will not change a thing.
I am still only his wife. And he is only my husband. And he will never let those feelings prosper. Because he is stronger than I am. And the weakness I swore I would never have is staring me right in the face again.
I am falling for a man who is using me.
Who will only ever use me.
When all of my tears have run dry, and the acceptance of my reality has settled upon me, I move to the mirror and glance at my reflection. But I can’t look at her. I can’t look at that girl right now.
The door opens behind me, and it confuses me. I thought I locked it.
“Sorry,” I murmur, without opening my eyes. “I’ll be out of here in just a moment.”
Strong hands come around my waist and pull me back into a hard body. I sigh and relax in those arms. And then blurt something honest and vulnerable.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you. Embarrassed you.”
“Hurt me?” dark laughter echoes through the cavernous bathroom, and dread crawls through my veins. “It has been some time, but I don’t recall you ever hurting me, Talia.”
My heart throttles against my chest. And I’m frozen. I don’t want to look. But I have to. Because that voice is the one from my nightmares. The one who betrayed me worse than any other before him. The one who changed my life forever and destroyed the last hope of human decency that I harbored.
“Dmitri.”
The word is like sandpaper on my tongue.
He kisses my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “Yes. Did you miss me?”
I open my eyes, and the room spins. But I can only focus on him. His reflection in the mirror. His body behind me, trapping me. With nowhere to go.
“Arman misses you,” he tells me, his fingers moving over my body like he still has that right.
And I’m too numb to move. To think. To do anything but let him. I wasn’t prepared for this. I’ve never been prepared for this.