Sex, Lies & Nikolai

by R. J. Lewis

I open my mouth, itching to talk about it because I’ve never spoken out loud about her habitual abandonment, but I stop before I do. I’m shocked, really. I have never felt an urge to talk about her. Ever. And this isn’t even an appropriate time and place to do it. I swallow down the words before they come to the surface and let enough time pass so the topic is let go. I’m a little disappointed in myself for staying silent about it.

  “So what about your remark about my hands?” he asks, fishing for conversation. “Is it how good I worked them the last time I fucked you?”

  I go silent, stunned into speechlessness. That was…very direct.

  He catches my expression and laughs. “Are we shy, Alina?”

  I slowly shake my head, but my cheeks feel like they’re going to melt off. “Noo,” I drawl out slowly.

  “You’re cute, rybka, but you’re a very bad liar.”

  I don’t acknowledge that.

  Desperate to cool my cheeks, I turn one of the vents to my face and let the AC work its magic. I’d like to think it’s the weather that’s making me sweat, and not the intense man next to me. Yes, I nod. It must be. The heat is so putrid I want to die. It’s the middle of July and the heatwave of the decade has descended on us. I wonder how Nikolai can look so put together in that suit. Surely he’s dying too, but the mutant hasn’t even broken a sweat.

  The ride’s longer than before. We keep catching red lights, which leaves us idling in silence. I catch him looking at me every few moments. Sometimes I catch his stare and my body goes stiff when I find I can’t look away. He looks so rugged today, like a man who doesn’t belong in that beautiful suit. His fingers twitch again, and I wonder what makes them do it.

  He wants me, but his eyes stay on my face instead of my body. It’s one of those times I wish they weren’t. I want him looking me over. I don’t want to admit to myself I shaved everywhere because I suspected this would happen.

  “What are you thinking now?” he asks softly, filling the silence.

  I’m thinking of all the things he’ll do to me when we get to his place. I think of him pinning me against his front door, tongue in my mouth, hands everywhere. My legs shake and I have to squeeze them together to keep the ache from throbbing.

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  “Nothing at all?” he presses.

  I grasp for something, anything. “Work was long.”

  “I imagine it would be.”

  “And some of the customers are weird.”

  He chuckles. “I know weird. I have a pawn shop, remember?”

  “You get a lot of crazies?”

  He nods. “Every day someone is trying to sell some kind of ancient artefact they’ve made in their garage.”

  My smile returns. “Made of tinsel and wood?”

  “That would be a step beyond their level of expertise.”

  I laugh. “That’s not so bad. Better interaction than what I have to deal with.”

  “My offer still stands,” he says lightly, referring to this morning.

  “I’m not sure I’d fit well in a pawn shop,” I muse. “I’d be a headache.”

  “The best kind.”

  “I’d demand a pay raise every three months.”

  “I would deliver.”

  “And extra vacation time.”

  He glances at me. “Alina, you don’t even have to be around and I’d still pay you to get out of that store.”

  “Wow, you’re trying to buy my time now.”

  “Think about it.”

  “What unfortunate soul will replace me at the store?” I wonder. “I’m the only one that’s lasted this long under Ivan’s hierarchy. Besides, I’m not sure how Benji would survive without me around.”

  Nikolai’s grip around the steering wheel tightens just then. He nods slowly in response, a fleeting look of conflict on his face before it vanishes back to nothing. He doesn’t say a word for the rest of the ride there.

  *

  By the time we get to his apartment building, my heart is racing. I run my sweaty hands over my shorts when he parks the car in the underground lot and turns it off. Then he steps out and I follow after him. Even the elevator ride is quiet and tense. He appears withdrawn, except his eyes when they flash to mine. They’re more alive than the rest of him.

  I feel needier every step closer to the apartment. We enter and I turn my body to him, expecting his mouth to descend on mine. But he doesn’t kiss me. He doesn’t even look at me. He continues walking, and he doesn’t lead me to the bedroom like I expect him to. He heads to the kitchen instead and pulls out two wine glasses from the cupboard. He pours wine into each of them and slides one across the island counter to me.

  Confused, and slightly disappointed, I sit down on the island stool and sip on it lightly. I’ve never been a drinker. Wine is as far as I can stomach, but this one in particular tastes ridiculously good.

  “You look beautiful today,” he suddenly tells me, still not meeting my eye as he throws his suit jacket off and flings it on the kitchen counter. “I forgot to tell you that.”

  I grip the glass tighter. “Thank you.”

  “Does that Benji boy compliment you?” He turns to me now, hands in his pockets, neglecting his own glass as he peers at me with curiosity.

  I blink. “Um…what?”

  “I saw the way he looked at you this morning.”

  “He doesn’t care about me like that. He just worries about my situation.”

  “And gives you shitty advice like going to Franco?”

  My eyes narrow. “Is this an interrogation?”

  “I’m paying you to be here, aren’t I?”

  I don’t respond. I just look at him, dumbfounded. He leans across the counter from me, blue eyes on blue eyes. There’s a chill in his. “Don’t waste my time, Alina,” he tells me. “If you like the guy, let me know now.”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  “I want to know.”

  “Know what exactly?”

  “That when I fuck you, it’s me you’re with.”

  My eyes bulge. I wait for him to deliver the punch line, but it never comes.

  “What, you…you think I’m envisioning Benji? My hopeless co-worker?” The laugh that erupts out of me sounds high and crazed. “Benji?”

  “I thought…” he pauses, his brows coming together now as he looks at my reddened face.

  “You thought I’d be with you and imagine him in your place? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?” Would any girl pass up a naked body that looked like Nikolai’s? Fuck no, they would live in the present and savour every second of his body pressed against them.

  Nikolai’s face cracks, the absurdity slowly hitting him now. His lips twitch and he looks away. It makes me laugh even harder.

  “Alright,” he mutters, turning from me now. “It’s not that funny.”

  But I can’t stop. I have never so much as imagined myself hugging Benji, much less screwing him. There are some thoughts you just don’t cross.

  Nikolai circles the island and spins the stool so that I’m facing him. My cheeks hurt from laughing, and he’s giving me a dry look.

  “Are we done?” he asks.

  “Depends,” I answer. “Are you going to ask me if I’m fucking Ivan in my head too?”

  This time he laughs with me. “That would surprise me.”

  Smiling like a goof, I take another sip of my wine, burying my blush into the glass. He moves closer, his arms settling on the counter on either side of me. He leans down, waiting for me to put the glass down on the counter. When I do, I angle my head up to him and he brushes his lips against mine. They’re so soft, like the petals on the rose in my bedroom. It’s a small first kiss, but I feel it for a long moment after. He kisses me again, and this time it’s longer, and I’m falling into it with closed eyes.

  It’s easy to get lost in his kiss. It’s easy to get lost in him.

  I squeeze my thighs together when he slips his tongue inside my mouth. My skin heats qu
ickly. I’m already wet and he hasn’t even touched me anywhere else. I think what I love the most about kissing him is he’s always just as undone as me. The kiss is so light, but his breaths are faster, his body rigid like he’s trying to hold himself back. It’s different from the Nikolai I’ve come to know, who is in control of himself in every other aspect of his life.

  My fingers tingle. I fist his shirt and drive his kiss deeper in me. He doesn’t relent. We kiss hard, hungry movements, tongues clashing. Then he tears his mouth away and steps back, his hand flying to his tie. He tilts his head to the side. “Bedroom,” he orders, breathlessly.

  I don’t waste time. I leap off the stool and hurry to his room. He’s right on my tail, and I feel this nervous/excited adrenaline fire through me as I turn back to him, watching his tie hit the floor. He works on his shirt, unbuttoning it while he jerks at my top. “Take that off, nothing else.”

  I rip my shirt over my head and throw it down on his dresser. He undoes all the buttons but he doesn’t take his shirt off.

  “Get on the bed now. On your hands and knees.”

  I go still, thinking of his directions. He wants me in an impersonal position. He’s going to fuck me from behind. I get a little panicked at the thought, wondering how the hell I could possibly feel pleasure when he’s not adding pressure to my clit from that angle.

  “Relax,” he says gently, noticing my expression. “Hands and knees, you won’t regret it.”

  I don’t really buy that, but I move anyway. On instinct, my eyes flicker everywhere as I climb his bed, like I’m inventorying my surroundings, making sure there’s something there I can use against him in case this ends violently wrong. But there’s nothing. I’m vulnerable and in a position I’ve never found any pleasure in.

  My body shakes, the only thing keeping me grounded is the tiny articles of clothing I still have on me, like they’re saving me from indignity somehow.

  I feel him coming from behind me, and I shut my eyes, waiting for his touch. His hands grip at my hips and he positions me back so that my ass is level with the edge of the bed. I breathe slowly, quietly, with scared anticipation as he flips my skirt over my hips and drags my panties down my legs.

  I wait for his invasion. For him to take me hard and brutal and leave nothing behind but come I’ll have to squeeze out of me.

  Nikolai’s hand runs down my spine, softly, dotingly. I’m so nervous, I’m barely coherent as his touch roams over my bare ass and along my slit. Faintly, I’m aware I’m wet from his kiss from earlier, and I moan lightly, tiny little bursts of pleasure shooting through me at the way he brushes over my nerves.

  Already I know this is different. I’m on my knees, my face is buried in the sheets, my ass is in the air and completely bare to him, and he has just driven out a string of light moans from me. But I know it’s coming. I know any second he’ll pull his zipper down and thrust into me. It’s why I’m so unbelievably shocked when I feel something wet run along my pussy.

  Oh, my God.

  His tongue.

  My mouth falls open, and a hesitant breath floods out of me.

  He continues to bury his mouth from behind, sucking at my pussy, running his tongue up and down while his hands spread my cheeks apart and his thumb grazes along my other hole. My eyes open briefly, watching him, shocked to find him on his knees there, his face hidden, his large hands practically covering my entire ass.

  He sucks until I’m so close to coming, I’m begging him to hurry. I feel the joyous ascent to something wonderful, and my body tenses, about to let go, about to feel something amazing, when a violent sting assaults my ass and I yelp, gasping at the slap he’s delivered without warning.

  Pain shoots up my spine, heating my face, making my eyes tear up. A split second later, his fingers slide into my pussy, and the mixture of pleasure with the fading sting is almost too much to take. His fingers move so deep, I feel his knuckles rubbing against my walls in the most delicious way. And when he pulls them out and grazes the tip of his finger against my aching clit, I lose it. I come so hard and quick, my hands fist into the sheets. I moan his name, “Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai,” like a prayer; like it gives me more pleasure to come apart tasting his name on my lips.

  I’m dazed. I can barely move as I blink slowly, noticing him walking out of the room and returning seconds later with my wine glass. He settles it on the night stand, flips my languid body over, and drags me up the bed, resting me on my back. Then he takes the glass and wraps my fingers around it. “Drink, rybka,” he says, smirking at me. “And relax.”

  I’m ridiculously relaxed. I sip while looking at him. He’s got only his pants on now, and I feast on his chest and abdomen, already feeling a stir within me. Surely I’m not getting turned on again?

  “What do your tattoos mean?” I ask, my tone light and curious.

  “Nothing good,” he simply answers.

  Evasive as always.

  Before I could question that, he moves back over me and kisses me deeply, and it’s the urgency I feel behind it that reminds me this isn’t over.

  He’s going to fuck me, and lord, I wouldn’t mind it.

  He attacks my lips and jaw and then sucks a line down my throat. He undoes my bra slowly, like he’s unwrapping a present. He pushes my breasts together and sucks on them each, blowing and licking at my nipples. My free hand digs into his hair, gripping it tight as I keep him there. Every suck sends tingles to my core, and I can’t help but grind my hips up, meeting his hard cock through his pants.

  He continues down my abdomen, biting lightly at my hip. He spreads my legs apart, and I peer at him through hazy eyes, still gripping the wine glass with one hand while my other is tied around the thick strands of his hair. Bunching my skirt up to my hips, he drops his face between my legs and tastes me again. He settles himself there, like he’s not going anywhere, and god, I don’t want him to. My hips move up and down like waves, grinding into his unrelenting mouth.

  I drop the glass at one point, but I don’t care.

  “Nikolai,” I moan, fisting the pillow as I begin to come undone. My entire body quakes, but his hands dig into my thighs, keeping me in place as he attacks my throbbing pussy with his mouth. He goes from sucking that button to kissing it like he would my lips. It’s maddening. The ache is so fucking nuclear, I’m teetering over the edge of bliss and I have no control when I’m going to fly off.

  But when I do – when he lets me – I feel like a piece of my soul is coming undone too.

  It’s the best orgasm I’ve ever felt, and I know with Nikolai, there are better ones coming.

  *

  He takes a call after I’ve come down from the high, and I lay there, limp and tired. I close my eyes and don’t open them again for a little while. I’m half-conscious, half-asleep. I’m just so comfortable, it’s hard not to take advantage of the softest mattress I’ve ever been on.

  I feel his presence sometime later, and when I open my eyes, he’s standing there, my empty glass in hand, peering at me with an unreadable look.

  Inhaling sharply, I squirm and try to sit up. “Don’t,” he says. “There’s no rush.”

  I nod and relax again, looking curiously at him with heavy eyes. “How long have I been sleeping?” I wonder.

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “Mm.” I peer at the glass again and frown. “I knocked the wine over.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs. “It’s just a mattress.”

  I like that he doesn’t mind. It makes me more comfortable around him when I shouldn’t be. Not at my state of undress. I look down my body, blushing hard. “I’m not looking too modest right now, am I?”

  “I think you look like paradise.”

  “I’ve got just my skirt on, and they’re bunched around my hips, Nikolai.”

  “Yes, paradise,” he repeats, smiling devilishly at me as he leaves the room with the glass in hand. I hear him clinking around in the kitchen.

&
nbsp; When he comes back, he settles into the bed behind me, his bare chest pressed against my back. He runs his fingers up my thigh, and I squirm a little. “Ticklish, rybka,” he states, amused. “But not when you’re turned on.”

  I smile. “It’s a good indicator then.”

  His breaths hit the back of my ear, his lips press against the back of my neck, kissing me softly. I squirm again, and I can feel his lips spread into a smile. He mutters something.

  “What did you say?” I question.

  “You’re cute,” he replies. He’s lying. I don’t know how I know, but I just do.

  His fingers trail up my inner thigh, and this time I squirm a little less as he prods between my legs, running a slick finger across the folds of my sex. I make a little sound at the back of my throat, feeling hotter.

  He rubs me back and forth, the movements slow and teasing. At the same time, he lays wet kisses my shoulder and trails them back up again to my ear.

  “No more squirming,” he notes, and I’m too aroused to smile.

  I concentrate on his finger running up and down my slit, circling at my clit and coming back down again. The more he does it, the more turned on I get, until I turn my head to him, seeking his mouth. Our kiss is wet and sloppy, and I’m panting in him, moaning as he dips his finger just barely inside me. It’s so painfully pleasurable, I buck my hips when he does it again, making him go deeper.

  “Naughty,” he murmurs inside my mouth.

  I couldn’t care less.

  He doesn’t appease me by going quicker. He keeps his pace slow, and it makes the build-up all the more powerful. My eyes open just barely, and I catch him watching me intently, his own eyes heavy and dazed.

  He brings me to pleasure, rocking his own hips into my back, where I feel his hard cock against me. I keep waiting for him to take me. I’d rather it than his fingers, but I can’t bring myself to say it.

  After I’ve come, he kisses me once and lets me calm down for the third time.

  *

  Nikolai never ended up fucking me. He pleasured me for a fourth time and then he left me there on his bed, satiated and content. He returned later with an envelope, and I remember taking it feeling so confused.