by Tara Wylde
Like the piroghis we had with dinner last night, Finn is originally from Ukraine. And, just like Storm, I’ve never asked him about his past. He returns the favor, but I’m sure he knows a lot more about me than he lets on. He may not talk a lot, but, like all truly good bartenders, he’s an excellent listener. Over the years, we’ve developed a mutually beneficial relationship.
He starts drawing me a Miller Lite as soon as he sees me in the doorway, so that it’s ready when I sit down at the bar. The place is empty at this hour of the afternoon on a Tuesday, but trade will pick up after five o’clock, when the locals get off work. Murphy’s isn’t on any tourist’s list of places to visit – no artisanal craft lagers, no avocado toast, just domestic beer on tap and pickled eggs in a jar – which suits Finn just fine.
“Nicky,” he says, setting the sweating glass in front of me. “Been awhile.”
I nod. “How’s things, Finn?”
“Living the dream, like always,” he deadpans, sweeping a hand at the dank, empty bar.
I chuckle. Finn’s one of the few people who can make me laugh.
We chat about baseball – Finn is a diehard Mets fan, poor sap – and other meaningless bullshit for a while as I sip my beer. It’s a ritual with us. Then, after we’ve chewed the fat for a while, Finn will discreetly bring up… other subjects.
“Did I see you walkin’ down the street with a girl earlier?” he asks casually. Dipping a toe in the water, ready to pull it back if it’s too cold.
“You did,” I say, performing my part of the play. “She’s new in town.”
“Izzat right? Pretty gal.”
I raise my glass to him and take a long pull. “She sure is.”
“She from around here? I never seen her before.”
“No.”
He nods. “I was just wonderin’ is all. Heard somebody was looking for a young blonde, thought maybe it was her.”
This is what I came in for. “Huh,” I say. “Where’s this blonde from?”
“Jersey, I heard.”
“My girl’s from Arkansas,” I say mildly.
“Nice place, Arkansas,” he says, pulling the towel from his shoulder and mopping the puddle my glass has left on the bar. “Bill Clinton’s from there. Good Democrat.”
I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes; sometimes Finn works a little too hard at playing the Irish-American stereotype.
“So who was looking for this blonde?” I ask. “Just in case I see her.”
He screws up his face, as if having trouble remembering.
“Some guy with an accent,” he says. “Eastern European, I think.”
Shit.
“Didn’t catch a name, did you?”
He glances around the room before leaning closer.
“Can’t quite remember, exactly,” he says quietly. “Started with a V.”
Volkov. Christ.
Well, at least now I know.
“Huh,” I say before draining the last of my beer. “You know, if you hear anybody talking about this again, maybe send them out my way.”
Finn cocks an eyebrow. “You sure about that? I mean, you’re not exactly known for having company.”
“No, but we Russians need to help each other out. You know, like you Irish always do.”
He grins, obviously confused, and shrugs.
“Whatever you say, Nicky.”
I slide a hundred across the bar and he tucks it into his apron.
“Good talking to you, Finn.”
“You too, buddy,” he says. As an afterthought, he adds: “Take care of yourself, huh?”
I flash him a cold grin as I head for the door. “Don’t worry about me.”
The sun is blinding as I emerge from the dank of the pub onto the street. When my pupils finally widen, I see Storm, her butt propped on the Vette’s hood. She’s holding a bag from Ellie’s.
She grins under my aviators as she catches sight of me.
“I got stuff for supper tonight!” she says.
I return her smile. “Perfect. And I’m sure you got an earful from Ellie, too.”
“Just a little bit,” she says as she opens the driver’s side door and tosses the bag in the back. “She really cares about you, Nick.”
I nod and sit down in the passenger seat. “I like her, too,” I say. “I’m just not great at showing it. You know me – I’m not exactly a social butterfly.”
“Well, you better learn how to be one pretty quick,” she says, firing up the engine.
I frown at her. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I just invited Ellie and some others to the house for a dinner party on Friday.”
She drops the car into first and peels off down Main Street, the thunderous rumble of the big block drowning out my shouts of protest.
Chapter Twelve
12. STORM
Luckily for me, the drive back to the house seems to have taken Nick’s mind off my dinner party ambush. Maybe he’s warming to the idea, or maybe he was too busy fearing for his life on those hairpin turns to think about it.
Did I mention I love driving this Corvette?
The sun is still high and hot in the clear blue sky. By the time we pull into the garage, my back is glued to the leather seat with slick sweat. Nick’s own black T-shirt is seriously damp as well as he climbs out of the car.
“Are you still mad?” I say coquettishly, plucking the bag from Ellie’s out of the back.
A moment later, Samson and Delilah come bounding across the grounds from wherever they’d been napping in the back gardens. They come to a halt at our feet and sit, tails wagging, until each of us picks a dog and indulges them with a scratch.
Nick sighs and shakes his head. “I was never mad,” he says. “Just – a little warning would have been nice.”
“You know full well you would have said no if I’d given you a choice.”
He frowns at me for a moment before giving in and chuckling.
“You’re right,” he says. “I would have.”
“We can still call it off. I just thought that Ellie was so nice, and you’re such a good cook, and she was talking about all the people in town who like you…”
Nick takes me by the arms and looks me in the eyes. His warm touch makes my skin tingle.
“I’m fine with it,” he says. “In fact, I’m glad you did it.”
“Really?” I grin.
“Yeah. Ellie’s right, I should stop being such a stick in the mud.”
I reach up and grasp his elbows. We stand there in silence for a few moments, gazing at each other.
“You’re not a stick in the mud,” I say.
“Well, thank you. My bartender Finn would probably agree with you.”
“I think you’ve just been lonely.”
It’s presumptuous of me to say that, I know. But finding out about his wife has opened a new window into Nick’s heart for me. Even though we’ve only known each other a few days, I’m sure I’m right. I don’t know how I know; it’s just something I feel, deep down in my core.
He stares at me with those steely eyes for so long that it becomes uncomfortable, and doubt starts to gnaw at me. Have I just pole-vaulted over the line we’ve drawn?
“I’m not lonely anymore,” he says finally. “Thanks to you.”
My heart melts yet again, and I’m overcome with a sudden urge.
“It’s too hot,” I say, pulling my sweat-clingy top away from my back. “I’ve been eyeing that amazing pool out back since I got here. Want to join me?”
“Sure,” he says. “We Russians don’t do so well in this heat. Although, to be honest, I never swim in the pool. I prefer the ocean.”
“I’m not too keen on swimming in the Atlantic any time soon,” I say with a shiver.
He nods his understanding. I love that he never makes me explain anything.
We walk through the garage door into the kitchen and I drop the bag of groceries on the counter. The Olympic-sized pool, surrounded by high hedges
and statuary, is on the other side of the kitchen, accessible through a set of French doors.
This is all new to me, but I can’t fight the feelings that are threatening to bust out of me. I touch my index fingertip to my lips in an effort to look flirtatious. I hope it works.
“I just realized,” I breathe. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“Oh,” Nick says, surprised. “Yeah, I guess not. We can go back into town…”
“Or not,” I say, turning and heading toward the French doors.
As I do, I pull my top over my head and unhook my bra. My breasts sigh with delight as they’re freed from their sweaty bondage. I turn back to face Nick, my eyebrows raised.
“Coming?”
The hungry look he gives me makes my nipples so stiff, it feels like they’re going to pop. An instant later, his own shirt is in a puddle on the kitchen floor.
I giggle and take his hand as we walk the twenty-or-so yards to the pool deck. Once there, I shimmy out of my shorts and panties, and suddenly I’m standing naked in front of a man for the first time in my life. The sun kisses my skin with its warmth, and instead of being embarrassed, I realize I feel entirely comfortable.
Nick’s eyes roam over my body and then back to my eyes, making me so horny I almost feel faint. The heat between my legs is delicious, begging to be touched.
“No fair,” I say, grabbing his belt. “You can see me but I can’t see you.”
My lack of shame is almost shocking. Desire is trumping everything right now, and I’ve never felt so in control of my life, and yet so out of control at the same time. I want to come, and I want to make Nick come, and nothing is going to get in my way.
The thin cloth of his boxers can barely contain the bulging steel underneath as I yank his jeans down and he steps out of them.
“Almost there,” I grin.
Without warning, he grabs my arms and pulls me to him. I meet his open mouth with my own, matching his intensity and hunger. I want this as much as he does, maybe more – I can feel it in his probing tongue, in his powerful grip.
He lets go of me for just a moment to slide off his shorts, his lips never leaving mine. I’m the one who finally breaks contact. As much as I want to keep kissing him, I want to see him fully naked even more.
The sight of him makes me weak – muscle and sinew straining against the paper-thin skin of his arms, those somehow sinister tattoos across his chiseled torso, legs like tree trunks. And in the center of it all, that huge, throbbing staff, so much bigger than I’d imagined when I was grinding against it the other night.
He moans as I reach down and grab him by his manhood, tugging him toward the pool and its cooling waters with me. It makes me feel powerful and in control, like I’m leading a mountain lion on a leash.
We reach the edge of the pool, Nick standing behind me as I face the water. Sunlight dapples the surface as he slides his cock deeper into my hand and reaches around to massage my breasts. I squeeze him reflexively as the shiver runs through me at the touch of his rough fingers.
“Baby,” I sigh, not even realizing what I’m saying. “Don’t stop.”
My insides flutter as his hands leave my breasts and glide down my belly. I want so much for him to touch me down there that I feel a mist of dampness in my cleft before he even reaches my mound. My hand works independently of my brain, massaging his cock in time with the movements of his hips.
“Solnishko,” he breathes into my ear just as his fingers find my opening. The combination almost makes me stumble into the pool.
“What does that mean?” I hear myself pant.
“My sunshine.” His lips touch my earlobes as he says it.
Okay, that’s it, game over. I press my hand on top of his against my mound as I feel the vibration starting to rise from my core. Nick grabs me tightly with his free arm, holding me as easily as he would a rag doll as my body goes limp with uncontrollable pleasure.
I can’t hold it in anymore. My throat opens and I scream as the electric current reaches into every square inch of me, making me quiver and tremble with ecstasy. I silently thank God that we’re miles from the nearest neighbors.
Nick holds me as the waves subside and I catch my breath, my grip never leaving his hard cock. I’m holding onto it like it’s a life preserver or something, and he’s throbbing in my hand as if to say that’s quite all right with him.
He puts his lips to my ear again. “You’re so beautiful. Like an angel.”
My belly flutters as his hands roam across me again, and I can feel the beginnings of another pleasure wave at the outer edges already.
“But we need to make this last,” he whispers.
Next thing I know, my feet are off the pool deck as he sweeps me into his arms.
“Nick!” I squeal, knowing what will happen next. A moment later and we’re both submerged in the cool, clear pool water.
The contrast of the temperatures against my skin brings out a sheen of goosebumps, and my nipples stiffen even more, almost painfully. In front of me, I see Nick emerge, waist deep in the water, droplets beading on his taut skin and catching the sun, like diamonds.
I look down and see the tip of his erection peeking out above the surface.
“My turn,” I growl, grabbing his arms and pushing him back into the shallower end, exposing more of him with each step until the water is just above his knees.
The look of surprise on his face sends another jolt through me: he wasn’t expecting his little sunshine to be so aggressive. But he should have known better – he’s the one who named me Storm, after all.
I lower myself so that my naked ass is sitting on the tiled bottom of the pool and my legs are splayed out on either side of Nick’s. I’m at the perfect height to finally say an intimate hello to the body part that’s been the object of my obsession since we stripped down in the kitchen.
A guttural groan escapes Nick’s throat as my lips and tongue touch the tip of his shaft. It’s so soft, and yet so hard. The skin is hot and I can practically feel the blood roaring beneath the surface. It throbs in my hand as I stroke the base while continuing to lick the tip.
I can’t go very far yet, but I take as much in as I can. The sound of his moans turns me on even more, if that’s possible, and my free hand reaches below the water to find the love button between my open legs. This is pure pleasure, pure passion, and I want to feel every last drop of it, for myself and for Nick.
After long, delicious minutes, Nick reaches down and takes me by the shoulders.
“I have an idea,” he says as I get to my feet, still keeping one hand firmly on his cock.
“What’s that?” I say with grin.
“Up here.”
He leads me to the stairs that take us out of the water to the luxurious loungers that face this end of the pool. He lies back on one and pulls me down with him, so that I’m lying on top of him.
As I feel the tip of his erection slide against the opening of my slit, I have a moment of apprehension.
“I – I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” I whisper. “Is that – okay?”
To my surprise, he flashes a wolf’s grin.
“That’s fine,” he says. “We’re still going to finish this.”
His steely arms push me off of him as he repositions his body underneath mine, leaving me straddling his face and staring at his bobbing shaft. A thrill runs through me at the intimacy of it, each of us looking at the most secret part of the other, eager to give and receive pleasure at the same time.
The instant his tongue touches me down there, I know I won’t be able to hold back. He glides back and forth gently, kissing me softly, as I work his shaft with my hand. But it’s only a matter of seconds until I lose it.
My tongue snakes around him passionately as I feel the wave building strength, knowing what he’ll ultimately do to me, knowing I’ll absolutely collapse when it happens. I want him to feel the same way at the same time; I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.
/>
“God, Nick, don’t stop,” I gasp.
Nick responds by kissing harder, deeper, building the tension until he finally reaches the spot that makes me lose control. As I feel myself being swept along like a leaf in a raging river, I give him one final squeeze. He explodes just as I do, both of us trembling and moaning in pleasure in time with the symphony of our heartbeats, making music that only the two of us can hear and feel.
We lie on the lounger together, silently stroking each other. It’s a tenderness I’ve never felt before, and it’s almost overwhelming. I don’t want to break the silence, but I can’t help it – I’ve never done this before, and I have to know.
“That was amazing,” I say tentatively. “Was it… you know, for you?”
Nick touches my chin and turns my face to his. Those intense steel eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen them before.
“It was incredible,” he whispers. “You are incredible.”
It’s all I can do to keep myself from sobbing as he says the words. So many shitty years, so many shitty people in my life, so many shitty things that have happened. To be here, now, in his arms like this… it must be a dream.
As if sensing that I’m about to lose it, Nick wraps his arms around me and the next thing I know, he’s standing with me, naked, in his arms, like some nudist groom about to carry his bride over the threshold.
Except the threshold is the edge of the pool.
“Don’t you dare – ” I warn, but I know it’s too late. A moment later and I’m in, surrounded by cool water that washes away any thought of tears.
He cannonballs in beside me and we wrestle underwater for a few seconds before breaking the surface, laughing like a couple of kids.
Chapter Thirteen
13. NICK
Samson and Delilah sense my visitors coming before they arrive. One moment the dogs are beside me in the gymnasium, the next they’re up and on their way to the front foyer, ears pricked up, in full working mode.
A few seconds later, I hear the deep double chime of the front doorbell. It’s a sound I’ve heard maybe a dozen times in the past fifteen years. As I said, I don’t get many visitors here, and that’s how I like it. I drop the dumbbells I’ve been hoisting and throw on a T-shirt, my senses on alert, just like the dogs.