Sex, Lies & Nikolai

by R. J. Lewis

  Well, shit.

  I was speechless. Why the hell would a man who is barely pushing thirty get a vasectomy done? Judging by the dark look on his face, I wasn’t about to ask him.

  “Any other questions?” he asked, tightly.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Sliding off his suit jacket, he tossed it behind me on the bed. As he loosened his tie, he asked, “You want a drink?”

  My eyes fell over his broad chest and narrow hips. “I prefer to be sober for this.”

  “That makes two of us, Alina.” He said my name so differently, this ache present in his voice. Sliding off his tie, he stepped closer to me and dropped his head to my level. “So how long do I have you?” he asked, his voice hardly audible.

  I swallowed at the intensity in his gaze. “A couple hours.”

  I barely breathed as he continued to study me. I don’t know if I was shaking more with nerves or anticipation. The hungry look on his face twisted me. I was on tenterhooks, this aching suspense consuming me every single second he let pass without speaking. Then he whispered, “Strip.”

  Just like that, he was getting straight to business.

  And that’s all this is between us – business – but it didn’t feel that way in that moment. Because, seriously, how do you treat sex like it’s an occupation? How do you shut off?

  The answer came swiftly when he abruptly kissed me, his tongue already pushing past the seam of my lips. All thought vanished as his taste invaded me, and I welcomed it, kissing him back with furious want. My heart raced, but not with nerves this time but adrenaline. It seemed all at once his touch brought my body to life, the ache I’d suppressed between my legs suddenly evident now as it throbbed.

  That’s how you do it.

  That’s how you shut off.

  By not shutting off, but by feeling every single bit of it.

  Without warning, he tore his mouth from mine and, breathing harshly against me, he repeated, “Strip.”

  My senses had waned. I felt drunk; even my fingers were tingling as I struggled to throw my crop top off. He was barely giving me room, his body firmly pressed against me, against my all too sensitive breasts. By some miracle, the top came off and he grabbed it from my hand and tossed it somewhere on the floor. I stared up at him, my breaths coming short and fast, waiting for that kiss to come again. Those lips are a drug, and I needed another hit. I needed to avoid that judgemental cunt that lived inside me, telling me what a whore I am.

  “Your shorts,” he pressed, looking at me, his eyes bluer than they’ve ever been before. “Take them off. Slowly.”

  My body shivered at his demand. I slowly unbuttoned my shorts and let them fall to my ankles. I’d barely stepped out of them when he hooked his hand in my hair and forced me back to his mouth.

  Yes, yes, yes, I was back here again. Back to being sucked and licked and bitten. I moaned uncontrollably as he probed my opened mouth with his tongue, drinking me in with this feverish urgency. His hands slid up my back. I felt aware of every inch of me he was touching, and little burns he left behind in their wake, warming me up like he did the night he took me wildly on the kitchen floor.

  I felt a snap and my bra was torn off and his mouth left mine. I barely opened my eyes when his wet kisses travelled down my neck, each hand grabbing at my breasts and pushing them up. My legs nearly buckled when his lips wrapped around my nipple. The jolt travelled straight to my core, and I moaned. The sound caused him to swear, that ragged curse sounding so utterly sexy coming from him.

  My hands flew to the back of his head, keeping him there, at my nipples, forcing him to make me feel things I’d never felt before. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I’m not meant to place him where I want him. I just didn’t seem to care.

  “Nikolai,” I groaned, “please touch me.”

  He was already touching me, but I wanted more. I needed that ache between my legs taken care of. And I’ll never forget how fast he was to dote on me. All the things he did flash through me.

  His hands sliding down my panties.

  Him dropping to his knees, his face buried between my legs.

  How hard I pulled at his hair as I sucked in these laboured breaths, shocked at the sensations, never knowing how good it could feel to be sucked where my nerves were, and the feeling of loss when he stopped and stood back up.

  I’ll never forget the look of desire on his face, or the way he picked me up like I weighed nothing, kissing me long and hard again as he carried me to his bed. He laid me down, spread me wide, and licked again at my sensitive flesh, until I was crying out, so certain I was going to come apart any second.

  Every time I froze, something inside me resisting the feeling that started to build, he’d mutter words to me. So many words, and there was only one line I understood.

  “It’s not wrong to like it, Alina. Let go.”

  Those words were my tipping point. My body stilled as his mouth sucked on me one last time and I exploded around him. I didn’t even get to come down when he’d journeyed up my body and kissed me again. God, I could kiss him all night. My legs were still spread wide, his clothed hips now settled between them, his hard shaft a reminder of how big he is.

  It suddenly wasn’t him doing all the moves. I was desperate. Aching for it. Gagging for the one thing I knew could fill me up whole.

  Without reservation, my hands flew everywhere, unbuttoning his shirt, unbuckling his belt, sliding off all the clothes that were nothing short of barriers between us. My fingers roamed everywhere, awed by his hardened flesh, intertwined at one point with his own calloused fingers.

  He was sensory overload and I still can’t tell you what every inch of him looks like, because that moment only comes in waves; a puzzle with strewn pieces I can only put together the more encounters I have with him.

  His kisses were more languid, his touch firmer as his length hardened. I spread myself wider for him and thrust my hips up, telling him with my body that I wanted him now.

  His hand slid down my body, his fingers rubbing around my clit and prodding at my opening. He thrusted shallowly inside me with his finger, moving in circles and back out again, smearing my release over the folds of my pussy.

  “You’re so tight, Alina,” he rasped, replacing his hand with his erection. “So fucking tight.”

  He took his time, nudging me with the head of him, watching the look of pleasure on my face as he teased.

  “Hooked,” he muttered. “Fuck me, I am.”

  I didn’t know what he meant by that, and I didn’t give it any thought because he finally pushed inside me. I gasped in awe, blown away by how soaked I was, how easy I let him in again the second time. My hands slid down his back, my fingers digging into his flesh as he kissed me, tongue over tongue, teeth grazing lips.

  The first thrust was slow, like he was savouring the way my walls wrapped around him, stretching to accommodate him. I could see the hazy look in his eyes, the euphoria present and just as heavy in mine. With one hand gripping tight my hair, and the other lightly wrapped around my throat, he started to move hard and fast, an unrelenting force that knocked the breath out of me.

  In and out.

  Burying me to the hilt one second.

  Emptying me the next.

  I sought the feeling of fullness, liking the sharp pain with the pleasure, until they were so intertwined I couldn’t tell which of the two I liked better.

  He spoke to me as he fucked me, and I moaned at the words even though I didn’t know what they meant. Some of them sounded like questions, and they were answered with moan after agonizing moan.

  “My name,” he suddenly said, an ache in his voice. “Say it.”

  “Nikolai,” I moaned.

  He groaned. “Fuck my name with your lips while I fuck you with my cock, rybka. Over and over again. Say it.”

  I said it, over and over again, until he hissed, dropping his head between my neck and shoulders, fucking me to oblivion with no end in sight.


  I came hard a second time.

  And then the third.

  And I kept on saying his name, regardless of how dazed I was.

  Nikolai. Nikolai. Niko…

  I said it until he smashed his lips against mine, swallowing his name as he stilled sharply inside me, coming hard with a heavy groan. The sound was so erotic, I felt even wetter for him. I think I could have come again if he’d ground into me one more time.

  We were panting slick bodies after that, each coming down from whatever the fuck happened between us. My mouth was dry from breathing so hard. He slid off of me and I watched him through drugged eyes as he stood up, his naked body in plain sight.

  Fuck me, the man has a body to die for, and with the sweat glistening his skin, every tattoo, scar and muscle seemed all that more pronounced. I watched him pick up his pants and remove something familiar, something he often twirled between his fingers.

  His cigarette.

  He moved back to the bed and grabbed a lighter on the dresser. Collapsing next to me, his shoulder pressed against mine, he placed the smoke between his lips and lit it. I watched him intently, at his chest heaving, at his swollen lips sucking on that stick and blowing smoke between them. He looked mellow and content, his tongue flicking out across his plump bottom lip every so often.

  He is utterly sexy.

  I can’t tell which part of him I like the most.

  It wasn’t awkwardness that pushed me out of my dazed state. In fact, I didn’t feel awkward at all. I felt…comfortable. Too comfortable. And it freaked the shit out of me.

  I quickly slid off the mattress, all too naked and all too visible.

  “Toilet?” he asked.

  I shook my head as I searched for my panties. “Home.”

  “Home?”

  “I have to go.”

  I couldn’t find my panties. Fuck it. I moved on and grabbed at my bra. Feeling like I was being chased by that unfamiliar monster by the name of Comfort, I quickly put it on along with the rest of my now wrinkled outfit.

  “Let me take you,” Nikolai said from behind me.

  “No,” I retorted. “I’ll take myself home.”

  “You don’t know where you are.”

  I scoffed. “We’re still in the Estate. I know exactly where I am.”

  “Alina, stop,” he said, his voice sharper than before.

  I went still, looking down at my feet as he moved out of bed and walked to me. I didn’t want to look at him. No way. It was too confronting, but…but I couldn’t help it. Still naked, his dick swinging with the wind, that smoke hanging at the corner of his mouth, he told me as he walked past me, “Wait right here for a minute.”

  “I can take myself home.”

  He ignored that and disappeared out of the room. If he was trying to take me home, he wouldn’t have left his clothes behind and walked out in the nude. So I waited for a few minutes, my eyes flitting to the unkempt bed, my nose wrinkling at the thick scent of our session. I think by this point I’d just gone numb, because nothing really clicked inside my head. I was a standing void, closing what we just did off so it wouldn’t show on my face.

  It was the envelope I noticed straight away when Nikolai returned. He stopped in front of me and held it out to me, waiting for me to take it. I don’t know how long I stared at it, the wall crumbling within as realization slammed into me.

  Money. I reminded myself. You did this for money.

  I felt a bit sick when I took it.

  “Let me take you home. You’re too beautiful to walk around the streets here alone.”

  “No.”

  “Alina…”

  I couldn’t look at him. I’d rather stare at his swinging dick, but even that was glistening with…me. I needed out.

  “I have to go,” I breathed, but my voice was tiny.

  The last I saw of him was his tensed jaw and hard face as I hurried past him, stumbling a little in the process.

  He didn’t chase after me, thank god. The man has an uncanny ability of knowing when not to push me.

  I shut the front door behind me and paced to the elevator, clicking the button repeatedly when I got there. I kept glancing down the hallway, half expecting Nikolai would appear. The second the doors slid open, I stepped in, grimacing at the mirrored walls.

  I looked absolutely trashy, and it didn’t help there was a woman there witnessing the state of me, all done up in her summer dress and flashy blue pumps. I stood as far away from her as possible, and we rode down the elevator in painful silence. I caught her eyes looking me over in our reflection, pursing her lips like a fish.

  The judgement.

  So much judgment.

  I blazed out of there the second the elevators opened, and as I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I spun around, trying to figure out where the fuck I was. There was still a lot of light left, and the people were friendlier than my area. So I asked for directions, and then I took two buses to get home.

  I had one thing on my mind the entire journey back.

  I needed to clean the dirty off.

  Shutting the water off now after I’ve scrubbed myself black and blue, I wrap the towel around my body and barely make it two feet before collapsing on the toilet. I sob into my hands, the weight of life growing heavier as I ask myself, over and over again, why I don’t feel clean enough.

  Nikolai

  I idle the car across the street from her apartment and wait.

  I wait a very long time before a bus comes to a stop halfway down the street and Alina comes flying out, hurrying to her building. Her head’s down, her arms are crossed, and her blonde hair falls all around her. My grip around the steering wheel tightens when faces turn to watch her. Men scoping her out, wondering if she’s easy access.

  I should have taken her home myself, but she didn’t look like she wanted me anywhere near her. By the end, she appeared repulsed by me.

  With a bruised ego, I still put myself through this punishment. Of watching her, wanting her, and feeling so utterly fixated by her.

  The damn girl with the x-factor.

  She slows down in front of a homeless man on the ground, his back against the building beside hers. He says something to her, and my hand’s already gripping the door handle, ready to jump out in case he does something. Alina talks back to him, and then she bends over and slips change into a Styrofoam cup by his foot. He smiles at her and she leaves, digging out her key from her pocket.

  When she disappears inside her apartment, I feel at ease. She’s home. She’s safe. That’s all that matters.

  I skim the building for a long moment, a grim tightening in my chest as I question just how safe a building this run down can possibly be.

  Then I find myself climbing out of the car and hurrying into the building. I take the elevator up and find my way to her door, stopping quietly in front of it. I move close, until my forehead is touching her door, and then I shut my eyes, angle my head to it and listen.

  It’s quiet at first. I don’t hear anything but light movements. Paranoia has me gripping the doorknob, about to try and twist it open when a faint giggle sounds out. The sound of her little sister breaking through the air, followed by the sound of Alina’s voice.

  I let go of the door and back away.

  She’s home.

  She’s safe.

  Chapter Nineteen.

  I don’t hate Nikolai because of what I did. How can I when I don’t spend a single second of the next day stressing about money? I feel like I’m breathing a little easier as I walk with Scarlett to the nearby park.

  I’m tender everywhere. Hell, peeing even stings. But I feel relaxed despite all that. My limbs are loose, like I’m not entirely as weighed down as I felt last night on the toilet. It was just a moment of weakness. Of thinking that there was something more I was fighting against with Nikolai. But if there was, I wouldn’t have woken up with such clarity and feeling of relief when I pulled that envelope from out of my pillow. I still don’t know where to hide that mo
ney, and for now it comes with me wherever I go, sitting discreetly within my bra.

  Scarlett tears her grip from my hand the second the park comes into view and races to it. Her chest slams purposely into a swing, kicking back and forth on it to gain enough momentum to swing.

  “Shouldn’t you be sitting your fat little bum on that instead?” I laugh, ruffling her hair as I move to the slide to inspect it. Even though the sky is overcast, the slides could still be burning hot. The weather has turned from scorching to this nasty humidity that feels like you’re the steam coming out of a kettle.

  “Then swing me, Alina!” Scarlett screams, digging her feet into the woodchips on the ground so she can come to a full stop.

  When I’m satisfied the slides are cool enough to go down, I then inspect the ground, kicking over all the woodchips. A lot of junkies come through here, and the one thing that terrifies me are needles. I’ve heard the horror stories – hell I saw a few in my childhood years, these pointed ends sticking out of the sandpit or hiding under a pile of woodchips under the slide. Looking for them is second nature to me now.

  After I’m thoroughly satisfied there’s nothing around, I return to her and plop her bottom down on the swing. She wraps her tiny fingers around the chain and closes her eyes, liking the feeling more when she’s not looking as she moves.

  “Swing me higher,” she tells me when she’s not satisfied with my service.

  “What if you fall on your face?” I ask, pushing her gently.

  “Higher,” she pushes, stubbornly.

  I push a little higher.

  “Alina, I’m not a baby. Higher!”

  When I reluctantly comply, she screams, giggling when she reaches the top and comes flying back down. The girl is an adrenaline junkie. I should be concerned about it, but I’m laughing too hard to care.

  I swing her for a while, until she’s had enough and is resting her head against the chain. I take a seat on the swing next to her and bump her with my hip so she swings sideways along with me. Her brown eyes shine when they look back at me.

  “Are we okay now?” she asks, taking me by surprise.