by Naomi West
"There's going to be a …change to our arrangement."
"What kind of change?"
Now I'm even more scared. Maybe they've decided to simply …dispose of me right away?
"You're not going to be a drug runner."
The words are the most heavenly sounds I could imagine hearing. But I say nothing, not expressing my joy. After all, the next words could be that they're going to make me a prostitute instead.
"Then, what? You've found something even more degrading and dangerous for me to do?"
"Not …not exactly," he says. "I spoke with my father, and I'm going to claim you."
"Claim me?" I ask. "What exactly does that mean? You're going to take me as your property?"
"Not quite so extreme," he says. "We bring on many girls like you, most staying in our more, ah, legitimate business areas, but others, like you, being made part of our illegal affairs. This usually occurs once they've, one way or another, found out about the true nature of our business."
I say nothing, letting him talk.
"Most, we put to work as drug mules, getting what use of them we can. It's dangerous work and many women don't last more than a few months."
My stomach tightens at this; it is just what I had feared.
"I'm not sure why, but I simply couldn't let this fate happen to you. So, I spoke with my father."
I looked up at him, my eyes widening.
"And I told him I wanted to claim you for my own. This is something of a privilege that the higher-ups in our organization are afforded. When we get the new girls in, we can take one as our own and use them for whatever purposes we want."
"You mean …like as your own personal whores, then?"
"If one were so inclined, yes."
Now anger is brewing in me.
"But that's not what I have in mind for you. You're too smart, too capable, and too …beautiful to simply be used like so many others have been."
At these words, the anger forming within me is snuffed out like wet fingers pinching a candle flame.
"But this came at a cost. You see, my father wanted to claim you as his own. He was disappointed when I told him that I wanted you, but was willing to negotiate. He told me that if I deal with some of our …competition, then you can be mine.
But this will be a dangerous time for me—for us both,” he continued. “Once our competition learns what's happening, you and I will both be targets. I'll do my best to keep you safe, but it will be a difficult few months. Perhaps even longer."
"Then …then what?" I ask, my voice small.
"Then you can leave. I'll put some money in your pocket and send you on your way. I'll still sponsor your visa, and you can stay in the country for as long as you want. It's the least I can do."
"So …you put yourself in danger …just for me?"
A wry smile forms on his face. "Yeah, I know. Insane, right? Stupid, even. My father had been waiting for just the moment like this to force my hand, to make me start preparing to take over the family. Now he's got me. You, however, will be free."
I don't know what to say. A tight, hot feeling forms in me, something that is like overwhelming gratitude. My gaze moves up along Michal's body, settling on his face. His gorgeous features are fixed in a pensive expression, as if his mind is already formulating the strategy necessary to get us both safely to the other side of this situation.
He could be lying, a voice says in me. This could be another trick.
But I push these concerns aside. Something about the way Michal is speaking, something about the way he's revealing himself to be, and something about how he's bearing the heavy burden that now clearly is weighing upon him says clearly to me that he's telling the truth—that he really did put himself at risk just to keep me safe.
I move closer to him, my eyes now on his hand. A feeling begins to well within me. Not fear, not anger, but gratitude. Slowly, I lift my hand and place it on his, the warmth of his skin pleasant on my own.
He takes in a slow breath at my touch, his gaze far away.
"Thank you," I say.
He turns to me, and as soon as his green eyes are fixed on mine, I freeze, feeling small under his stare. I find myself moving closer to him, then closer still, my body sliding along the bed until I'm right next to him. I want to be near him, to comfort him.
Michal lifts his hand and places it on my cheek, the sensation of his hand heavenly on my skin. His green eyes still on mine, I feel like, at that moment, I am his to do with whatever he wants. His face begins to move closer and closer to mine.
Then, he kisses me.
My body goes loose as soon as his lips are upon mine. Something like heat radiates from his lips and warmth floods through me. He places his other hand on my hip and brings me close to him. I turn my own body and position myself on his lap, continuing to kiss him, savoring the feeling of his lips, his hands, and his strong frame against mine.
I sink deep into his kiss, his hands on my hips. Soon, his fingers slip under my shirt and along my sides, coming to a rest just under my breasts. I exhale, the breath slipping past my lips, the sweetness of his kiss intoxicating me.
What am I doing, I think. I barely know this man.
But I quickly push such thoughts out of my mind and lose myself in Michal's kiss, my hands running through his thick, dark hair as I sit on top of him. Then, before I realize what's happening, he pulls my top up and over my head, my hair falling in loose tresses onto my shoulders once the shirt is gone. I feel exposed for a brief moment, seized by a sudden urge to cover my breasts and exposed stomach. But the wry, sensual smile that crosses Michal's lips is more than enough to keep me going.
"You're so goddamn beautiful," he says, looking over my body.
Red rushes to my face as soon as the words leave his lips.
"Thank you," I say, my voice soft.
Soon, his hands are on the strap of my bra, and with a quick, easy motion, he snaps it off and tosses it across the room. My nipples harden as the cool air of the room falls upon them, and before I can react to my breasts now being bare, his mouth is upon them, lashing my nipples with kisses and licks. The feeling is indescribable; my body becomes weak and pliant from the pleasure rushing through me. Removing his hands from my breasts, he takes me by the hips, lifting me with ease from his lap and placing me on the bed with a gentle toss.
Now he's standing over me, looking down at my body with a lustful hunger. He grabs my pants by the ankles and yanks them off, leaving me wearing nothing but a blue, lace thong. I love the feeling of him looking me over, taking in each square inch of my bare skin, desire building in him. I can see his hard cock through the fabric of his dress pants, the outline tantalizing. I want to see more.
"Not fair," I say, looking down at my nearly nude body.
He gets the hint, and then his hands are on the black buttons of his charcoal dress shirt, undoing them one by one. He shucks it off and tosses it into the corner with the rest of the clothing, and now he's standing heer in nothing but a skin-tight, black undershirt, his thick, ropy muscles covered in tattoos of strange symbols that look vaguely religious in nature. When I realize that they're gangster tattoos, I gasp. Of course he would have them, but seeing his body covered in them is something else. I've always associated such tattoos with danger. But danger mixed with …something else.
Michal then pulls the undershirt off, revealing the rest of his perfect, sculpted torso. His pecs seem made of steel and his abs are totally cut; there's not an ounce of fat on his body. I feel my tongue slide over my lips as I look upon him. But I still want more.
"That's not all," I say, looking down at his trousers.
He smirks again, as if pleased to see that I'm just as eager as he is. Soon his pants are off and he's in nothing but a pair of skin-tight, gray boxer-briefs, his cock outlined clearly; I can already tell that it's going to be as long and thick as I'm hoping.
But before I can see it, he pounces on me like an animal, lavishing me with kisses and caresses, sighs and m
oans escaping my lips as he does his work. One hand on my breast, the other slides down my hips and under the waistband of my panties. He slips them off and down my legs, his breath hot on my neck as he continues to kiss me.
"I want it," I say, something like desperation in my voice. "Now, please."
He lifts himself off of me and smirks again.
"Only because you said ‘please.'"
I want to smack him and kiss him all at once. Michal pulls down his underwear, his cock springing out. My eyes go wide as I look upon it; it's bigger than I was expecting—bigger than any cock I've seen in person. I wonder if it can even fit in me. But before I have too much time to wonder, he takes his prick by the shaft, unrolls a condom down it, and slides into me.
I gasp as he enters me, the wetness of my arousal allowing him to slide into me with ease. He moves slowly, and I can feel every inch of him moving deeper and deeper until he's finally fully buried inside of me. I swallow and dig my nails into the thick skin of his back, allowing myself to become accustomed to his size within me.
"You okay?" he asks, noticing the tight expression on my face.
"Yeah," I say. "You're just …so big."
"Too big?" he asks.
"No," I say in a hot breath, now loving the feeling of him in me. “Perfect."
With that, he begins to move in me, and the pleasure is almost too much. I wince my eyes shut and feel him lift himself up on his arms, plunging in and out of me with slow, full slides, the feeling of his length moving in and out of me over and over absolutely divine. His pace increases, and I'm keenly aware of each inch of him.
I'm wrapping my legs around his hips as he fucks me, and I can already feel an orgasm coming on. His pace is faster, faster, his arms taut and tense as he supports his weight, the sight of his muscles bulging a feast for my eyes.
"Don't stop," I say as he pounds me; I'm barely able to form the words. "Don't …stop …"
My moans are now something like shrieks, and my orgasm is building like a white-hot light deep inside of me. He's fucking me with animalistic speed, packing me full with his thick, hard cock. By the sounds of his grunts, I can tell that an orgasm isn't too far off for him either.
My eyes seal shut, and I dig my nails so hard into Michal's back that I worry I'm going to break the skin. But I can't help it; the pleasure running through my body is beyond intense. I take in a sharp breath through my nose, inhaling the rich, manly musk of his body. Every bit of Michal is a treat for the senses.
Then the orgasm that has been building for minutes finally happens, the pleasure like a tidal wave that pulls me away from shore, stranding me in an ocean of pure delight. My body shakes, my limbs tighten, and my gasps turn to screams as the orgasms pulses throughout me. It's the single most pleasurable sensation I've ever felt.
And soon it begins to ebb. With a heavy grunt, Michal cums, his body stiffening and tensing as he spends himself in me. He slows down his pace as he finishes, entering and exiting me a few times more, and then he's done. The final ripples of my own orgasm are still spreading through my body, my legs limp, my arms folded over my stomach, and my skin sheened with sweat.
Michal slides out of me and rolls over onto his side. We lay like this for a long while, our chests rising and falling, enjoying the warmth of our bodies next to one another.
Chapter Eleven
Michal
I'm sitting in a white-linen restaurant in downtown Philadelphia, Alina sitting to my right, my kid sister, Danica, across from us. It's noon and the sun is streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the city streets. The restaurant is an open space where everything—the waiters, the décor, the walls, and the art—are dominated by the singular color of pure, cloud white. It's the type of style that I figure is meant to convey sophistication. At least, what a person like my sister would consider sophistication.
"Something more interesting than your lunch companions?" asks Danica in her prim voice, a piece of asparagus dangling from a fork held inches from her face.
"Just thinking about how much of a pain in the ass it must be to clean this place," I say, my eyes moving from white surface to white surface.
"Always thinking about the important questions," says Alina, playfully elbowing me in the side.
Danica looks over at the two of us with the same expression of skepticism that I spot flashing on her face.
Danica, my kid sister, decided to make one of her famous unannounced visits to the city. Living in New York, she chose at a young age, with no small insistence from my father, to avoid taking part in our little family enterprise. Instead, she was shipped off to one of the Northeastern Ivies and put on a fast-track to a comfortable, white-collar life in the city. What she does, I can't quite say—facilitating mergers between companies or something like that.
She's a pretty girl, with the same features as me and our father. Her dark-brown hair is worn in a stylish bun atop her head, the brooding green eyes that she and I both share flick from Alina to me, and her mouth forms the same shit-eating, know-it-all smirk that our father is always giving me shit for. According to him, however, it's cute when Danica does it.
However glad I am to see her when she comes into town, I know by this point that her reasons for coming are rarely casual social calls. She likes to check up on me and our father, sniffing around and snooping in our affairs, as if providing the watchful woman's eye that my father and I lack with our mother gone.
"So," says Danica, setting her fork down and folding her hands across her lap. “You two have been dating for …?"
Alina and I share a glance; we're still not used to thinking of ourselves as a "couple." It's not even the correct word for our little arrangement, but "claiming" doesn't really have the same romantic ring.
"Not long," says Alina. “A little over a week.”
"Though the flirting had been going on long before that," I say, affecting a corny smile, like the one a middle-aged, suburban husband would make when talking about how he and his wife met in college.
Alina got what I was going for and leaned over to me, squeezing my leg under the table and planting a chaste kiss on my cheek.
"It's been a wonderful week, as silly as that sounds," says Alina, looking gorgeous in a pair of off-white slacks and matching blouse that seems to put her in slight discord with the décor surrounding her.
"Well, then," says Danica. "Here's to …another good week, I suppose."
She cuts through the chicken on her plate with an effortless slice with her steak knife, her eyes looking away in thought.
"So, how's New York?" I ask, eager to keep the conversation off of Alina and I, in hopes that we wouldn't trip over one another's lies.
"Fine," says Danica, speaking as though the subject is exhausting even to consider. "I just moved to a new place in the Village. A one-bedroom for five-thousand dollars a month; can you believe that? And it's not even that big; maybe six-hundred square feet."
I flick my eyes over to Alina and see that she's working hard to suppress her shock at the idea of paying so much for a single apartment, her less-than-affluent upbringing showing just a bit.
"Well, that's New York," I say, stabbing a piece of my rare steak with my fork and preparing to bring it up to my mouth.
"And you with that palace you live in. I swear," says Danica. "I come to visit you and I still can't believe you have that place all to yourself; I keep expecting tenants to be walking around."
"I like my peace and quiet. What can I say?"
I'm happy the conversation is light so far, but I know it won't last. It's only a matter of time before she'll try to get the details of the current situation of our …family owned and operated business.
"So …" she says, placing her glass of white wine back down on the table. “How're things with Dad?"
And there it is.
"Things are fine," I say, my voice crisp. "He's staying busy, as usual."
"Good …good," says Danica. "You know, I like t
o keep my ears open for any, um, opportunities that come up, and I've heard more than a few. There's a lot of money to be made in New York if he's thinking of …expanding operations."
I look at her with a blank expression.
"I think one city is more than enough for us right now."
Alina is watching the conversation carefully.
"Just saying. And I'd be more than happy to, well, facilitate some sit-downs if you and Dad were interested in something like that."
I set my fork down and look square in Danica's eyes.
"Wasn't the whole point of sending you away to school, then to New York, to get you away from what's going on here in Philadelphia? What's the point of you living there if you're just going to try to worm your way in?"