by Fiona Murphy
Hannah is at the breakfast table. She has been crying.
“What’s the matter?”
She shakes her head as she pushes an envelope toward me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to give this to you. I almost burned it but...I love you too much.”
Photographs, the envelope contains three photographs. They are of Christina and a man. I see them only I do not see them, cannot comprehend what I’m looking at. Her ass is on display, the man is holding her tight. Christina’s face is a blur in the second one. Shaking my head, I wonder, was she caught in mid-orgasm? I close my eyes but the images are burned into my retinas.
Nausea roils in my stomach, fire burns inside my ears. How could this be? How could she do this? How could Christina make love to me with her entire being, then allow another man to touch her? To fuck another man, then sleep in my arms... The world stutters to a stop as I open my eyes.
She couldn’t. Christina, the Christina who looks at me as if I were her whole world. The Christina who knows my faults, sees every one of them and still wants me anyway, could never do this. Would never do this.
I look at Hannah. Her face and eyes are swollen from crying; she has managed to tear off the fake nails she usually wears and is gnawing at one nail aggressively.
“Where did you get these?”
Her knee is bouncing up and down. “Alfie is Roger’s mate. The bloke Christina shagged. Alfie said Roger asked for pictures, he does with all the slags he’s with. Likes to keep them for fun later on. When Alfie saw Christina and you at the wedding, he recognized her and thought you should know.”
Slowly, I nod. “What is it I owe this Alfie? Beyond my eternal thanks, of course?”
Eyes wide, “What?”
“He doesn’t want anything for these? He sent them to me through you as a gift?”
I recognize the look on her face. At thirteen, she had the same one. An ache stirs in my chest, bringing up long-forgotten memories. Teaching her how to swim, having that talk with her about boys, and the difference between boys and men. What had I gotten wrong?
“Fifty, he wants fifty thousand pounds. As you know, he’ll destroy the originals. He can get to them.”
“Just fifty thousand? That’s generous of him.”
She nods, as she side-eyes her phone. “He’s a good guy.”
“A good guy who takes pictures of women his mate is fucking for his mate to keep later. Sounds like a fucking gem.”
She blinks fast. “I—”
“How much do you owe? And to whom?”
Her eyes won’t meet mine as she shakes her head. “I don’t know what—”
My laugh is bitter. “You know what, Hannah. You know. I know. This isn’t Christina. You’ve doctored these photos.”
She freezes.
And so do I. I swallow hard against the bile rising in my throat. “These had better be doctored photos. Look me in the eye, Hannah, and tell me what the fuck you did and why. And just maybe I won’t put my hands around your neck and squeeze.” Fury threatens to overtake me.
“Ivan.” A small, soft hand comes down on my shoulder, her touch at once soothing the beast inside me. “I’m okay. It was scary.”
Which means she was terrified.
“But I’m okay. I would just really like to know, Hannah, why?”
I can’t think straight; I pull Christina into my arms. Her hand strokes my arm, feeling the tension inside me.
“I owe Mishi a lot of money. She was mad, she wanted to get back at you both. She told me she would waive what I owe her if I helped her get back at you.”
“How much money?” Christina asks.
“Sixty thousand pounds.”
Christina gasps, it doesn’t surprise me. I am done with being surprised.
“I was in the market, I started out making a lot of money. In only three weeks I was at twenty grand, but then it went against me. I kept doubling down and it just spiraled out of control. I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt either one of you. You were supposed to get drunk.” Hannah lashes out at Christina, and if Christina weren’t in my arms I fear I would do bodily harm to my sister. “Why didn’t you just drink the damn drink I gave you? We’d have done it while you were asleep. You wouldn’t even have known.”
Standing with Christina in my arms, I can’t look at Hannah. “In a few hours, we’re leaving for the week. I want you gone before we get back. For Gemma, she won’t know until after the wedding is over. Once it is, it’s over, it’s all over. No allowance, the house will be sold and I don’t want to see you again.”
I keep walking even though Hannah calls my name. Christina wraps her arms around me and lays her head on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
It kills me that she is apologizing, for anyone, to anyone. “You are the last one who should be saying sorry.”
“It’s okay to be sad.”
***
Christina
The next week flies by, I’m practically giddy from all the time I get to spend with Ivan. We drive through England, stopping in places I’ve heard of, a night in Birmingham, a night in Bath, then Brighton before going to London for a few days.
Ivan is patient and spoils the hell out of me to the point I’m feeling guilty. He never says no, he never gets annoyed or loses his temper with me. There isn’t a single complaint about me dragging him all over the city from the Tower of London, to Buckingham Palace, the Tate, then hours in Camden Square.
It wasn’t until we were in London when I understood exactly what he meant with the whole accent thing he’d tried to explain. Seeing it in action was eye-opening. A simple glance at Ivan and anyone could figure out he had money, from his hundred-dollar haircut to his handmade shoes. The moment he opened his mouth, those who were already deferential stood a little straighter, their eyes widened a little. When I mentioned it to Gemma, they were trying to figure out if he had a title.
What happened with Hannah lingers, and I feel the pain in Ivan. I hate it. I want to talk about it but he refuses to discuss it. I do my best to honor his request. Even after I overhear him speaking with Mishka’s parents, he wanted Mishka cut off financially. Either the parents did it themselves or Ivan would ensure they had no money to give her.
Her parents agreed and Mishka was forced out of their home with nothing more than the clothes on her back. Aari had attempted to intervene until Ivan told him what happened. Aari agreed wholeheartedly with Ivan and promised he wouldn’t tell Gemma the truth until after they were away for their honeymoon. Gemma had called me asking what was going on, I played dumb and she sighed and said she would figure it out later.
I like London but I’m relieved when we leave Saturday morning to go back to Manchester for Gemma’s second and last wedding tonight. It reminded me of New York with all the name dropping, and labels flashing. They also hate fat people, almost everyone who wore a designer label looked down on me, and it was clear they were wondering what I was doing with Ivan. It wasn’t as bad among the people who weren’t trying so hard, but they weren’t as comfortable with Ivan.
“What is the matter, poppet?” Ivan takes my hand in his. We’re only an hour away from Manchester now. I shrug, not wanting to sound whiney. A gentle squeeze. “I cannot fix it if I do not know what is broken.”
How completely Ivan. “Nothing is broken. I’m just sad this is coming to an end. Tomorrow we go back to Chicago. Back to work, back to Abuelo and that mess and...” I look out the window, blinking fast to hold in the tears. No tears, those weren’t a part of the deal. This was the deal, three weeks. “Thank you for this, all of it, even the not so great parts. This has been the best three weeks I’ve ever had.”
I pull my hand from his and he lets me go. And just like that, silence reigns between us.
***
Christina
When we get home, for the first time Ivan doesn’t follow me upstairs. He doesn’t say where he is going, I don’t ask. I shouldn’t have said anything, just kept it up until tom
orrow. God, I hope I didn’t ruin our last night together.
There are two more hours still until we leave for the wedding. For this wedding, they will have the ceremony in one ballroom, then the guests will move into another ballroom for the reception. At the thought of all those people, I’m in need of a nice long soak.
In the bath I can’t stop thinking about how I messed up and wondering how I can fix it. It comes to me as I’m trying to figure out what to wear. The sexy-as-sin underwear the kind older woman with a twinkle in her eyes pressed to me. The black silk stockings and garter belt to match. So far, I hadn’t needed it. Tonight, it feels like I do.
I’m doing my hair in the massive dressing room closet, taming it into soft wavy curls, when Ivan comes into the bedroom. I hear the shower go on and grab my red silk robe to cover the black lace bra and panties I’m wearing. Satisfied with my hair, I focus on my makeup.
To please him I’m only using mascara, filling in my eyebrows and lining my lips with a dark red color. Checking the time, I’m surprised to find we need to leave within twenty minutes.
Ivan walks into the room with a towel around his waist. I can’t take my eyes off him, the way his skin glistens, the way his muscle and sinew move. Heat hits me; his eyes running over me send fire through my veins. He drops the towel, his cock is mouthwateringly hard, he walks toward me.
A hand, not at all gentle, grabs my hair then uses it to send me to my knees. I go willingly, wet and aching for him. From the beginning Ivan is in charge, taking what he needs; it’s the first time I’ve ever felt used. I wonder if I should feel insulted, instead of grateful and so fucking turned on I barely need to touch myself before I’m shaking in orgasm. Ivan comes seconds after I do, his grip tightening before he lets me go. I almost fall, but manage to catch myself against the center island.
By the time I look up Ivan is already pulling on his pants. On shaky legs I get back into the chair. In the mirror I watch him dress. He’s wearing a tuxedo, and he could be on a billboard he’s so gorgeous. Straightening the bow tie, he looks down at me finally. “You only have fifteen minutes. I’ll be downstairs.”
I nod but he’s already gone. Sighing, I know what dress I’m going to wear. I had thought of it then decided on another; now I feel I owe him the dress. Rolling on the black silk stockings, I understand the appeal—it feels sexy putting them on alone. I fasten them to the lace belt, satisfied, hoping Ivan will be too.
It’s a short illusion lace black dress. Zipping it up, I turn and damn, he is going to be so mad. I can’t wait. An illusion dress gives the impression of skin on display with a soft tan fabric under the dress. A halter neck leaves my back completely bare—that isn’t an illusion. Lace runs over my breasts in a swirl of leaves, sheer black begins just under my breasts then runs down to below my waist, before more lace runs over my bikini area down to where it ends mid-thigh.
If I were to bend over, it would be obscene. Satisfied, I check the clock. We have two minutes before we need to leave. I grab my tiny black bag and slip on leather black flats. I take my time going downstairs.
Ivan is pacing the large hall. When he sees me he stops in his tracks. I get wet at the way I see his cock harden at the sight of me. By the time I get to him he’s made of stone.
“Go change.” It’s an order.
I shake my head. “I can’t, we’ll be late. We wouldn’t want to ruin Gemma’s night, would we?”
“You can go upstairs now and change or pay the price when we get home.”
I don’t even bother to answer, simply walk away. We’re being driven tonight, so Ivan can enjoy a few glasses of champagne.
He slams into the car, vibrating with rage. “Just remember, I warned you.”
I’m looking forward to it.
***
Christina
The ceremony is beautiful. I want to lean against him, for him to put his arm around me, but he’s still too mad. I got what I wanted, for now.
In the ballroom we’re at the head table in between Gemma and Hannah. For Gemma’s sake both Ivan and I smile and speak to Hannah but the moment Gemma steps away, neither of us are able to hide our true feelings. Hannah tries to talk to Ivan but he freezes her out, so she gives up and goes to sit with some friends. I hate being here—there are too many people looking our way. It doesn’t matter most of them are looking at Aari and Gemma, several of them are eyeing me with speculation. It’s a little better when the dancing starts and most people are on the dance floor.
I take the offer of champagne from the waiter with a smile.
Ivan frowns.
“It’s only my third,” I mutter as I drink it.
“You are also not eating anything. Either eat more or no more champagne.”
“Excuse me, you’re not the boss of me, for fuck’s sake. If I want a glass of champagne then I will have a glass of champagne.”
His left arm goes along the back of my chair as he turns to me, leaning his head down over me. To anyone watching it would be an intimate, private moment, but for me it’s scary. Ivan is pissed.
Taking the glass from my hand, he sets it down. He grazes his lips along the spot where my neck meets my throat—he’s going to leave a mark. I welcome it. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to anger me. Are you trying to anger me, Christina?”
His right hand comes down on my silk-covered thigh. He stiffens as his hand moves up to find the edge of the stocking, then trails over my bare skin. I shudder as his breath catches, he bites down hard on my neck, and a gush of liquid heat makes my panties so damn wet.
“You’d better be wearing panties.” The words are barely understandable. A finger runs along the wet slit of my panties. “Good girl.”
I tremble as he draws the panties to the side.
“Were you trying to anger me, Christina? Or is this what you wanted, my love? All of my attention, my hands all over you.”
I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
“Open your legs, be a good girl for me.”
I shake my head. Holy shit, there are people everywhere. No one is sitting at this table, but only a hundred feet away there are people standing and talking.
“Oh, Christina, now that’s not being a good girl. Isn’t this what you wanted? I warned you, my love, and now it’s time to pay something on the account of what you owe me for not changing.”
A shiver goes through me. “This isn’t it?” Oh god, I said it and still can barely understand the words.
The bastard laughs. “This isn’t it by a long shot. Open your legs, like the good girl I know you are. Let me into heaven.” He sucks hard on the spot as his middle finger presses harder along my wet lips. “The longer you keep me out, the more of a chance someone might wonder what we are doing. Come by—” A chuckle comes out of him as I open my legs wide. “I do believe a good girl is owed an award,” he whispers in my ear as he pushes two fingers into me.
Oh god, oh god, this is so bad, so dirty, so wrong. Those fingers are torturing my clit. Ivan’s mouth covers mine as he applies pressure and sends me into a body-shaking orgasm. I cling to him.
“We leave in ten minutes.”
***
Ivan
The drive home is interminable. I have no idea how I haven’t come in my pants. This witch, I cannot believe what she does to me. I’m tearing the dress to shreds the moment we’re home—the fucking thing is painfully erotic.
What the hell was she doing even buying it, let alone wearing it out in public to wind me up? She wanted me wound up, she got me, and now she will pay the price. I watch her shiver in anticipation and have to adjust my stiff cock.
She knows I’ve been trying, damn it. Trying to do what she said she wanted. Preparing for the end, I spent hours in my office and didn’t get a damn thing done. This was nothing like what it was supposed to be, just sex, just a release. She wants me to let her go tomorrow. She talked about going home, back to the life she had before we met.
Only I cannot fuckin
g comprehend going back to it. Back to twelve-hour days in the office and even longer ones in my home office. Back to hours plugged into my emails, the business news, the market, a screen in front of me. Back to brittle, thin models, with their endless chatter about celebrities and diets and fads and nothing more than an hour or two of release before going home to bed, alone.
Alone wasn’t the problem, I liked alone. It was the thought of not having Christina beside me, the feel of her soft body, the scent of her skin, no. She can’t expect me to go back to that. I won’t.
She’s out of the car, I throw her over my shoulder, too pissed off right now to be gentle.
“Ivan, I’m sorry.”
“Not yet, but you will be.”
She doesn’t try to argue again. I toss her on the bed, not bothering to close the door. “On your knees, ass up in the air.”
Her breath catches as she moves fast. I pull the dress up to her waist, fucking hell. My cock jumps at the sight of the lace garter belt around her waist. Without a single plan in mind I smack one round cheek, hard, then the other, then back to the first. I lose count until I see how red she is.
I work hard to control myself; it doesn’t help I see her thighs slick from her pussy dripping. It’s time. Opening the bedside table, I find it. Unwrapping it has her turning to see what I’m doing. Her eyes go wide at the bottle of lube in my hand. I take my time and coat my cock until it glistens. She nods, as a hand goes over her lace-covered breast. Thank fuck.
I’m not a complete bastard though. I will not take my pleasure without ensuring hers first. With a hard push I’m in her pussy. Her gasp is one of surprise, then she’s panting as I fuck her hard, fast, relentless to a climax in only minutes, but I don’t allow myself to come. No, not tonight. It’s bad enough I’m inside her pussy without a condom.
While she’s still moaning from her orgasm, I press my cock to her tight ass. Slowly, carefully, I press into her then out again, fucking mere inches in and out of her. There is no tension in her beautiful body. By the time I’m six inches deep she’s begging for more. So I give it to her.