by R. J. Lewis
“What are you looking for?” I wonder.
“The quality of the movement,” he explains. “Rolex make their own movements in-house and they are very high standard.”
“So the fake look cheap in the back.”
“The replica ones look the same on the outside, but you’re right, when you crack open the case in the back, they aren’t quality like the real kind.”
“So is it real?” I press after some time.
His face tightens, and he answers my question by tossing the watch on the coffee like it’s a piece of trash. It tumbles along the surface, no doubt catching scratches along the way. I nearly cringe just hearing it scrape along the surface.
“Okay,” I murmur, holding back a laugh. “I guess not.”
Vlad shakes his head. “I spoke with that dog for over twenty minutes. He promised me the sky they were real.”
“Does he really think you won’t figure it out?”
Vlad curses, using familiar words out of Nikolai’s vocabulary only in very different circumstances. “I’ll roughen him up for wasting my time.”
Just when I think they’re operating a legit business, he has to go and say something like that.
There is way too much testosterone in this place.
“What if it was real?” I question, amused.
“It wasn’t.”
“But if it was?”
“Then that’s the condition it came in.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking, or being serious, but he’s straight-faced when he looks at me. I tug on my gemstone, glancing between the watch on the ground and then him.
“Is that real?” he then asks.
“What?”
He eyes my necklace. “That.”
I shake my head. “No way. It’s a fake.”
Vlad just looks at it, his brow furrowed in thought.
I hear Nikolai stand up, and I expect him to walk back out of the office like he’s done so many times before. But his movements slow to a stop in my peripheral. I slowly rip my gaze away from Vlad and look at him. He’s standing beside the couch now, his hands in his pockets, looking between Vlad and me.
“What is it?” he questions.
As if remembering, Vlad’s face darkens. He throws the other watch across the room – it makes a cracking sound when it hits the floor – and goes into a series of rants, his words running so fast that, even if I knew the language, I doubt I’d still understand him.
Nikolai barely blinks, shrugging at the end in the most careless way. “So what do we do? Beat everyone that comes through the door? Nine times out of ten they’re liars.”
“You’re not the one dealing with it,” Vlad complains. “It’s me. I’m in that godforsaken room every single day, taking in these little junkies. Today a man tried to sell me his tooth. Was covered in mangy saliva, straight out of his mouth!”
I light up. “Oh! Yeah, he tried to sell it to me too!”
“For eighty dollars?”
“Forty.”
Vlad curses. “I’m three times her size and he wanted more.”
I hold my breath to keep from laughing.
“Then the other day,” he continues, looking back at Nikolai, “one of them sukas threatened me with a needle.”
“Did he hurt you?” Nikolai questions.
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is they’re filthy.”
“You want clean junkies?”
I laugh and Nikolai’s eyes soften at me.
Vlad isn’t impressed. He stands up. “I see the tables have turned,” he remarks dryly. “You’re not very fun when you’re docile, Niko.”
Nikolai smirks as Vlad leaves the room in a huff.
Yeah, way too much testosterone.
By the time I look back at Nikolai, he’s already staring at me and moving, cutting the distance between us in four smooth strides.
He crouches down and his arms come out on either side of me, caging me in. He’s more roughed up today. His shirt’s unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up, no tie or waist coat present. His jaw is more stubbled than it’s ever been before, and his hair is even unkempt.
Every time I see him he’s less put together than before.
It’s kind of hot.
“Rough day?” I wonder, smiling.
“I got my hands a little dirty,” he responds, moving in to kiss me.
“Do I want to know?”
“Not while you’re tasting my mouth.”
He deepens his kiss, stealing my breath. My hand drifts up his chest and around his neck, drawing out the feeling until I can’t breathe. He withdraws, and we’re already both fighting for air.
“Never a dull moment here.”
He swipes his tongue on my lower lip. “Not when you’re in the room, Alina.”
My heart pauses; even my mind goes silent at his remark said in such a sincere way.
We look at each other for several moments. His eyes are so blue, I think I swoon as deeply as I stare into them. He raises his hand and runs his finger over my cheek, his eyes burning through my features with such a look of wonder. It’s almost too much.
This whole time I’ve been waiting for him to get off the phone and give me his attention, and now all of a sudden I want him distracted again.
“Are you ready to go?” he finally asks, like we’re about to go on a date.
Words are lost on me, so I nod.
He offers his hand to me, and I take it. Swiftly, he pulls me up to him so my body is flushed against the length of his. I feel so short next to him. My head fits right under his chin, and when I look up, I come ridiculously close to kissing him.
As he looks me in the eyes, he mutters something to me just then.
“What did you say?”
He detaches from me, smiling weakly as he looks away. “I said let’s go.”
*
Nikolai’s vocabulary during sex keeps expanding. He pants things in my ear, words he’s never used, and I want desperately to understand them.
He thrusts inside me, burying his cock so deep I feel it hitting my walls. I gasp, my fingers digging into his back as he goes. He’s an unstoppable force, like a wrecking ball that won’t stop swinging until it’s crashed through every wall inside me.
We’re sweating, glistening, skin upon skin, and I’m holding onto him for dear life as he fucks me hard, thrust after agonizing thrust. He pulls on my hair, kissing me, demanding me with that look I know so well from him to say what he wants to hear.
“Nikolai,” I moan.
His face always cracks at the sound of his name on my tongue, and I don’t know why I put myself through it, because his movements turn sharper, faster and more punishing.
I come hard with him buried inside me, and he follows, his forehead pressed against mine. We catch our breaths pressed against one another. My finger runs down his spine, feeling over his muscles as they flex beneath me. His lips seek me out again, and he kisses me tenderly. He doesn’t stop, either. He kisses me on a level that’s far too intimate, and I quickly lose the breath I’ve just regained.
He pulls back and opens his eyes, looking into mine for some time. I feel trapped, because I have no choice but to look back. He’s still inside me, he’s still kissing me, and he watches me so closely, like he can’t bear the thought of looking away.
My heart picks up again, faster than moments ago when he’d thrust into me, bringing me to pleasure. I think he feels my heartbeats, because his eyes dim and he presses his chest more firmly against mine.
“Alina,” he whispers, looking at my lips, eyes, lips, lips.
“You’re crushing me,” I whisper back, trying to diffuse the moment.
He doesn’t smile, but he moves off me and fishes for his smoke on the night table. I’m busy staring at my trembling fingers and trying to get this hammering heart to slow down.
The lighter comes to life, and I instantly smell the smoke. He only ever lights
it after sex.
It’s probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen: Nikolai in the nude, glistening with sweat, dick covered in my wetness, swollen lips wrapped around a cigarette, smoke clouding around him like he’s in a fog.
And I’m in a fog just staring at him.
“You and that cigarette,” I mutter lightly, rolling my eyes.
He’s still looking softly at me, but a smirk curls at his lips, that cigarette settled between his teeth.
“Do you smoke any other time?” I ask.
“Sometimes,” he answers. “Not often.”
“Just after sex.”
“Any time I feel like I need to come down from a high.”
I watch him for a few moments, hypnotized by his beauty. Then, I turn to my side and impulsively take the smoke off him. He raises a brow and I answer his questioning look by taking one drag of it. He chuckles lightly. “Always full of surprises, kitten.”
“I’ve smoked before,” I reply, defensively.
“I can tell.”
“I’ve done a lot of other things too. You shouldn’t be surprised.”
He turns on his side so he’s facing me, amused. “Have I insulted you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You implied I’m innocent.”
The laugh that comes out of him is dry. “I know the last thing you are is innocent, but I also know you’re the sweetest thing too.”
I smile. “Why?”
He takes the smoke from my hand. “Because every time I take you, you’re always surprised to get there. You’ve never been pleasured before me.”
My smile wavers instantly. “Am I so obvious?”
“No, you’re only obvious to those you open up to, and we can probably count those people on one hand, can’t we, Alina?”
The breath that comes out of me next is slow. “You think you know everything about me, don’t you?”
Nikolai shakes his head, pinning me still with his stare. “I have a feeling I could spend the rest of my life never getting to the bottom of you, rybka.”
The feeling’s mutual, but I don’t say that.
Instead, I get off and already start to get ready to leave. I feel like I’m running. Everything’s too intimate. His stare…I let out a breath. His stare is pummelling my insides right now.
“Stay,” he tells me. “Have dinner with me.”
“I have to be back. I have…things to do at home and…”
“Why do you lie?”
I tense. “I’m not lying.”
“We can eat somewhere nice,” he continues, his voice bordering hopeful. “Go to a nice Russian place. I can spoil you with better wine and good food. You can meet some people I know. Good people.”
“I can’t.”
“Alina –”
“I don’t want to have dinner with you, Nikolai!” I cut in evenly. “I just want to get paid and leave.”
Silence.
Shit.
Everything changes right then and there. The softness dissipates into nothingness, and I can’t tell if that’s worse.
If I’ve offended him, it doesn’t show. Then again, if Nikolai was feeling a thousand different emotions, I still couldn’t tell you one of them. He just looks at me, long and hard, with this unwavering intensity. Then he gets up and fetches me another envelope.
“Strictly business,” he remarks bitterly when he returns to hand me it, an icy glint in his eye. “Surprisingly, you are the most professional client I’ve ever had to work with.”
I feel a rip of anger cut through me. “You forget, Nikolai, that you’re my client,” I retort, pocketing the envelope. “And you’re easily replaceable.”
Yet again, nothing gets to him. If I think he’ll snap at me, I don’t know him well enough. But I do. I know him so well, it frightens me.
He stands there, in his intimidating grace, and watches me gather my things and leave.
*
I stand in the shower, shaking my head over and over again. I shouldn’t have said what I did. All this effort keeping this man a safe distance from me, and it’s turning me into a rude bitch.
I cringe at the word replaceable. What was I trying to prove by saying that? That I don’t need him? Of course I need him. He’s done wonders to my life already and I feel like I’ve barely scraped the surface of our arrangement.
He’s the most selfless lover I’ve ever had, and the thought of not touching him again – because of how horribly stupid I am – makes me panic.
I wrap myself in my towel and step out. I roam the unit, aimlessly tidying it up. I find myself in the kitchen repeatedly, eyeing my phone, knowing I should call Nikolai and apologize. But…
Ugh.
I’m a coward.
I take it anyway, and I scroll to his name on my contact list. He plugged it into my phone weeks ago when he needed to make arrangements to see me last minute.
My finger hovers over the call button, and I take a few breaths before hitting it. It rings on the other end, over and over again with no response. After over a dozen rings, I hang up.
Either he’s ignoring me, or he’s busy.
I want to think it’s the latter, but…I would ignore a person too if they called me replaceable.
I throw something light on and crawl into bed next to Scarlett. I sigh miserably, disliking the way I push people away when they get too close to me. I don’t like that part of myself, because by the time I realize what I’m doing the damage is already done.
I stare at the darkness for a long time, listening closely for any movement in the unit. My paranoia is always high, and it’s irrational at times, but being a lone woman with a tiny girl to look after, the mind tends to turn against itself.
Luckily my phone vibrates under my pillow, distracting me from my fear. I pull it out quickly and answer.
“Hello,” I whisper.
“Alina,” Nikolai responds coolly. “You called.”
“Yeah, uh…I figured you were too busy to take the call.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes.”
Silence settles over the line and I’m itching to get the words out, but I’ve never apologized to a man I’ve been intimately seeing before. It’s harder than I expect.
“I just…” I pause, letting out a trouble breath. “About today, and what I said…I just wanted to say…”
“I know,” he replies, sparing me. “Anything else?”
“Well…no.”
“Good night, Alina.”
My body sags in disappointment, this want to keep him on the phone present, but… “Good night, Nikolai.”
I feel no better getting off the phone.
I feel no better without actually saying the words I’m sorry.
I think the only way I’ll feel better is when I’m back at his place and kissing him.
Chapter Twenty-Five.
He fucks me hard, the rhythm more punishing than usual. I’m practically holding on for dear life. He doesn’t kiss me, doesn’t even look at me. He buries his face between my neck and shoulder instead and thunders inside of me, until I have no choice but to surrender. We both come together, agonizing groans torn from our lungs in unison.
It always feels so fucking good.
I start to sag into the mattress, my fingers already seeking his back, when he suddenly gets off without waiting to catch his breath.
It's like whiplash.
Nothing at all like what I’ve gotten used to. No tender eyes. No look of awe. He doesn’t even smoke a cigarette next to me. He gets up instead and strides out of the room, leaving me breathing raggedly on the bed alone.
The change fucks with my head.
Is he angry at me?
He returns, his face clear of emotion, and rests the envelope on the edge of the bed. Then he turns and begins dressing. I watch him, waiting for him to give me a sign that all is right, but he doesn’t. There are a million thoughts roaring through me, and none of them are pleasant.<
br />
I sit up, flushed and aware of my nudity. I cover my body with the sheet and search for my clothes, eyeing him every few seconds, knowing something is deeply wrong and it’s all my fault.
It’s the first time he’s never spoken a word to me from the second he picked me up to the second we’re done. I feel like I’ve lost something big between us, and it worries me more than I imagined it would.
I tug the sheet tighter around me as I slide off the bed. He’s just zipping up his pants when I weakly utter, “Nikolai.”
He doesn’t look at me. “What?”
“I…I’m sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
“Yesterday –”
“Yesterday you made things very clear.”
I want to go to him, rest my hand on his back and tell him to forget about what I said yesterday, but it’s the confliction inside of me over this whole thing between us that stops me.
“I shouldn’t have said it,” I mutter.
He turns to me now. His chest is still moving quickly from our session, his hair is unruly and over parts of his forehead. “I may be your client, but I have the power to end things just as much as you.”
My heart seizes. “Don’t.”
“Why?”
I swallow, not responding.
“Why?” he presses.
I still can’t answer.
“You can’t even tell me why?”
He waits for more nothing from me and his nostrils flare.
“Who will you replace me with if I go, Alina?” he questions roughly. “I’m obviously so dispensable, I wonder why you deal with me anyway.”
“Nikolai –”
“Where are these fucking men that are better than me? Tell me. Point them out! Because clearly I haven’t done a decent job of it.”
“Nikolai, stop –”
“Have you been with anyone else?” he rants on, fuming now. “Are you getting paid by some other man? Is he better than me? More valuable? Is that why you’re so quick to leave?”
“No!” I cry out. “You’re the only man I’ve been with in five years!”