Artem yells something to the driver in Russian who quickly responds back followed by another comment from Artem.
“What did he say?”
“He said we can make it. I told him we must.”
“We can just get the next one, right? If we don’t get it before it closes at 1:25 we can get it again when it closes again at 2:50. That’s in only about an hour and a half.”
“It’s not about that. You know I will keep you safe. I would never endanger you.”
“What is it then?”
“When I see something I want I never hesitate. Life is too short. If you do not learn this as a man by age thirty-eight I do not think you will ever learn it,” he says as his fingers slide through the sides of my hair and around my head, pulling my face back into his as we kiss passionately.
The driver yells something and Artem’s lips come off mine as he replies with one word. I miss the void of his lips on mine and want to taste him again, but my heart is not only beating fast because of his kiss, but because of the adventure of being with him provides.
“We’re going to make it?”
“We already did.”
“What? How did we get across that fast?”
“Two minutes isn’t particularly fast,” he says. “With a car it would have never been in doubt.”
“Two minutes?”
“You lost track of time as well? I thought it was just me.”
I give him a genuine smile again and lean into him, burying my head into his chest.
“I lost track of time the moment you grabbed me at that metro track,” I say.
“And now there is only one time for me,” he says.
“What time is that?” I say.
“The times we are together. Everything else is a complete waste of my life, and I will not tolerate this,” he says just before his lips crash right back down onto mine.
And at this point I have to agree. There are moments like these in life, and then there’s everything else.
And I’ve only ever experienced moments like these with him.
And if he’s this good at kissing, and this skilled at making me feel so excited for hours on end, then I know that it’s time for a different kind of experience.
The kind I’ve never had, but have been saving for that perfect someone.
That someone who I was never sure if he’d actually come.
Well he didn’t just come. He’s rescued my life twice, shown me some of the most beautiful artwork in the world and a load of other things.
Now I want to see the art that decorates his body.
While I lie on my back running my hands across his bare muscles as I watch him and feel him please me in a way I know only he can.
CHAPTER 12
Alice
After we make it across the bridge just a couple minutes later we’re crossing the Potseluev Bridge or the “Bridge of Kisses” that crosses the Moika River near the famous Mariinsky Theater.
The name for the bridge came about in the eighteenth century because a merchant named Potseluev lived nearby and ran a tavern called Potselui, which translates to “a kiss.”
It’s become a popular place for newlyweds to go there to take a photo with Saint Isaac's Cathedral in the background. The superstition is that you kiss and then attach a padlock to the bridge with your names. Supposedly the longer the kiss on the bridge, the longer the couple remains happy.
And Artem had the horse-drawn carriage stopped for a very long time.
After the bridge we make our way back to my hotel and Artem quickly exits the horse-drawn carriage and before I know what’s happening his hands are on my hips and he’s lifting me up and out like I weigh next to nothing.
The way he maneuvers me around like a ragdoll makes me think of all the ways he could move me just upstairs in my room…on my bed…against the wall, and anywhere else that we could think of.
As he sets my feet down he places me so close that our bodies brush and my breath catches.
He pays the man and then takes my hand walking me up to the hotels door.
And at this moment I’m ready for him to continue walking. Not to stop. To just take me to my room and then take me in another way…any and every way we can think of until the sun comes up.
“Thank you for taking me to the museum, and the island, and the bridges, and all your kisses, and the way you handled that man,” I say, the alcohol making me ramble a bit. I’m kind of surprised it only took two shots to get me tipsy.
He moves in closer and runs his fingers through my hair before gently bringing his fingers back and curling a loose lock of hair back behind my ear.
Despite all the kisses we’d already had today and tonight all I could think about is how much I wanted one more, and how quickly I wanted one to turn into three and then four and then…
But he didn’t move. He just stood there still as one of the sculptures we saw today as he stared down into my eyes.
I rose up on my tiptoes pressing the matter forward, desperate for what I wanted, and then his mouth came crashing down on mine hard.
His hands pulled me in closer and I could feel his desire pressing hard against my stomach. My nipples instantly pebbled and I felt my pussy getting wetter by the second.
“It’s taking the will of one thousand Spetsnaz soldiers, our Russian special forces, not to go up to your room right now. To grab you and carry you up there like the princess you are, but when the sun rises you would no longer be a princess. You would be my queen. You have no idea how much I want that. How much I need that. But I need to do this right. We’ve been drinking and that’s not the time to make decisions that change the course of one’s life…and in this case two.”
He pauses before starting up again. “And you already have changed the course of my life. You can believe that when I tell you, just as you can always trust anything that comes from my lips.”
“But I want this,” I say.
He makes a point to pull me in closer and I feel his need poking me like a steel pipe. “I want it too. I need it. I’m going to be in so much pain tonight, for more reasons than you can even know. But tomorrow is another day. A special day. And I will prepare some special things so that we have a day, and a night, to remember forever. And tomorrow we’ll be at our full mental and physical capacities so nothing will be dulled by alcohol. We’ll feel everything, and as you can tell right now…there is a lot to feel.”
“It feels like you want me,” I say.
A growl that sounds like it started in the pit of his stomach and then worked it’s way up before exiting his lips fills the air. It’s deep, guttural, and primal.
“You have no idea how badly I want you,” he says as he brings the tip of his index finger to my mouth. “But we cannot talk about this right now. It’s not right. But tomorrow, it will be perfect…just like you.”
I felt my head nodding, just wanting to agree with him, wanting to be on the same page again like we have been all day.
But inside I was dying. I wanted him inside me so bad, so much.
“Good night,” he says and he turns and disappears into the darkness of the night.
CHAPTER 13
Artem
The next morning
I tap my foot against the floor as I sit in the lobby waiting for her. I’d called her room earlier and we’d agreed on a time to meet, but still I was ready and waiting a half an hour early.
Even if she was just one minute early, the twenty-nine minutes I would wait for her would be more than worth that extra minute.
I wanted to spend not only every minute with her, but every second.
I hate the word desperate, but I was desperate to see her this morning.
I couldn’t think, stepping into my pants backwards for the first time in my life just a few minutes ago. Pouring hot water in a cup with no coffee.
It was like I couldn’t function without her.
And that’s scary, except that it’s beautiful too.
&nb
sp; To realize one person on this earth can make you feel things that no one else ever did, ever can, or ever will.
That there’s only one person who’s truly meant for you.
And I’ve found her. The circumstances of the way we met are strange, and there will be more challenges with her father, but there’s no going back.
I know what I want and I want her.
And I will have her.
Suddenly I catch her out of the corner of my eye from a distance as she’s at the other end of the lobby.
And just as she turns the corner I see Vladimir Kovalev, our most famous Russian ice hockey player step in front of her.
He has a look in his eyes that tells me he’s going to try and charm her. He probably thinks she’s just another girl who knows who he is and will gladly go up to his room for a session in the sack before the hotel has even finished serving breakfast.
But the only serving he’s going to get this morning is my fist if he doesn’t back up.
I’m up from my chair and making my way towards them quickly.
I feel like a lion, moving swiftly across the African plains ready to make a kill. I don’t even care if my prey can see me because I’m so angry, so hungry, that I’ll still chase it down and end it. Let it know it made the worst mistake of its life by coming into my territory and trying to take what’s mine.
We may be humans and play these charades in fancy hotels and things like that, but deep down we’re still territorial and possessive creatures and he’s on my turf right now because anywhere in this world where she sets foot instantly becomes my territory. My place to protect her. My place to provide her enjoyment and the time of her life.
And he’s not going to enjoy this one bit.
“I can show you around the city. I’m sure I know more about it and I have a staff and cars we can take. You don’t need to wait on anyone else to provide a tour…and one that will be lackluster no doubt.”
“Lackluster like your last season,” I say as I bring my hand down hard on his shoulder spinning him around.
I don’t even want him looking at my woman let alone talking to her.
“Go back to trying to score on the ice, Vladimir. You can’t even do that right now.”
“I was just offering the lady all the things you can’t,” he says, obviously perturbed and trying to play the rich guy game.
Little does he know.
“She’s not interested in a small dick, camel breath, and a receding hairline,” I say going with the insults I know will hit the man hardest.
And he’s lucky I don’t hit him for real. He’s my size and weight, and a professional athlete, but there’s a big difference between someone who has experience fighting on the ice and someone who’s gone toe to toe with some of the world’s deadliest men in prison.
Vladimir looks into my eyes and I lunge forward at him showing my teeth and growling.
He jumps back and then readjusts his suit before pivoting on his brown brogues and making his way in the other direction.
I notice the staff has been discreetly watching this and that possessive gene inside me just rips through my veins and I grab my woman and give her an aggressive kiss good morning.
“Wow! That’s one way to start the day,” she says.
“Kissing you is the only way I ever want to start my day, but I will fight each and every challenger for your hand until the day I die if I have to…but I won’t.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because soon you will have a symbol that shows the world you are mine.”
“The tattoo?”
“For starters, but I’m thinking something much more grandiose, opulent, extravagant and something that no one will miss. And let’s go before we miss the first thing I have planned for today.”
“What do you have planned?” she asks as I take her hand and walk her towards the lobby.
“The events don’t matter. They will be fun, but we would have fun in a cardboard box together. All that matters is we’re doing them together.”
She leans into my arm and goes from holding my hand to wrapping her arm around mine.
Good. The whole city will see that she’s mine. And soon the whole world will know.
CHAPTER 14
Alice
That evening
We walk out of the Mariinsky Theater as the entire crowd is still buzzing from the opera performance we just heard.
And I can’t believe the seats that Artem was able to get. They literally said “Emperor’s Box” on them.
Back home they have what? VIP seating, press box, suites, things like that.
Emperor’s Box? Talk about a fairy tale.
And he’s made me feel like an empress this entire day.
We started off at the Peterhof Grand Palace, which was built to outshine Versailles. He told me it’s wasn’t a true palace until I stepped foot inside.
Then we went to a Matryoshka Master Class, where we painted Russian nesting dolls. He told me I was his doll and he wanted to “paint” my body with his tongue.
Then we took a canal tour on a beautiful, small boat. He told me there are over eight hundred bridges in Saint Petersburg, and promised to kiss me on all of them.
Then we had lunch, where I had caviar for the first time. He promised to bring it to me every day for the rest of my life if I wanted.
And we still weren’t done.
Then we went to Nabokov Museum which honors Vladimir Nabokov, the author of Lolita. But what I didn’t know was that he was a very active collector of butterflies and his research was actually very well respected. Apparently there are at least five hundred and seventy known mentions of butterflies in his work and more than twenty species of butterflies have been named after his fictional characters. And then Artem named me “His Butterfly.” And he told me that while Lolita was about an older man and a younger woman that there would be no angst between us. He said as someone who’s experienced a lot he would share what he’d learned in life with me and always make sure I could soar high, and spread my beautiful wings…like a butterfly.
He really blows me away with how romantic he can be in this most romantic of cities.
And I was also blown away by the pipes on those opera singers. Wow, those ladies can really hit some high notes.
But now that it’s night, and after how last night ended, all I’m thinking about is how I want to hit some high notes myself…as I scream out his name in ecstasy.
“So what do you have planned next?” I ask.
He pauses, turning to me as he squares up our bodies.
He takes my hips in both hands and moves us out of the way of the exiting crowd and underneath the beautiful yellowish glow of a light on the entrance to the theater.
“You remember our visit to The Hermitage yesterday?”
“Of course. It’s something I’ll never forget.”
“There is something there they do not tell you. When the Nazi’s invaded Russia in 1941 their Blitzkrieg destroyed many of our works of art…our historic treasures. So when the time came, in 1945, when Russia was conquering Germany, the Red Army took a team of experts called the Trophy Brigades to take art for Soviet museums. It’s estimated that we took two point six million pieces. Our museums have a tradition of exhibiting stolen art. Of course the descendants of those who the art belonged to are angry and distressed. For instance we saw paintings from Picasso’s Cubist period yesterday. They were collected by Russians who were once rich enough to spend their winters in France and then would take their purchased artwork home. These items were acquired too.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with our plans for what we’re going to do now.”
“Everything, because this tradition of taking what we want is in my blood. It doesn’t matter the consequences or who I’m taking it from.”
My heart picks up rapidly as I finally start to grasp exactly what he’s saying.
“When you were born you belonged to your father and your m
other. You were theirs. But not anymore. You are mine now. I am going to take you forever and display you just as proudly,” he says.
He takes my hand and then takes a knee.
“Alice, my beautiful butterfly. I told you today our Grand Palace wasn’t truly a palace until you stepped inside. And that is true. In Russia we do not wear engagement rings, only wedding rings. This is better because it moves us closer to where I want us to be already…together, side by side, forever.”
Possessive Russian: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 79) Page 5