She sniffed the aromatic tea and took a sip. It tasted bitter but had a pleasant herbal aftertaste. She sank back into the pillows and watched summer lightning flash in the sky.
“How about some music?” Andrei said.
She eyed the piano. “Sure, but only if you play for me.”
He took a seat on the piano bench and lifted the cover. The yellowed ivory showed how aged the instrument was, but its tone was as pure as crystal. He ran his fingers lightly over the keys. He played effortlessly, beautifully; the music seemed to harmonize with the distant wash of the waves on the shore. The summer ocean air and his playing cast a spell over the peaceful room, imbuing the night with a sense of magic. Maria recognized songs from Prokofiev and Chopin. The sounds lulled her senses. She fought the urge to sleep because she wanted to hear every note. Again she was struck by how little she knew of the man she’d seen almost daily for the last three years.
“This next one’s especially for you,” he said.
It was from Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto Number 2. She recognized it the minute she heard the first few bars. “How did you know that was my favorite?”
“You mentioned it once. I have a good memory.”
It was a song her own father loved and had played often, and the melody went straight to her heart. She remembered how her mother would plunk herself on the old fat armchair with her eyes closed to concentrate on the music and Maria would curl up in her lap, listening avidly to her father play.
“What’s the matter?” Andrei swung around on the bench.
She was hardly aware of the song ending; her eyes were clouded with tears. “It brings back memories of my parents, my real parents. I lost them long ago. I told you that once—didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. When I play it helps me to remember as well.”
“What about your parents? Are they still alive?”
“Yes. They live in a nursing home a few blocks from here. They’re pretty comfortable. And still madly in love, which is a good thing because they went through so much to be together.”
“How so?”
“My mother came from a Jewish family in Moscow, and my father’s parents were anti-Semitic, a fact my father’s been ashamed of all his life. There was blood on the floor when my parents announced their wish to marry. They ended up eloping and escaped to America. Lucky for me I was born here and not over there. That picture,” he gestured toward the Chagall print, “reminds me of my parents.”
“A reproduction—right?”
“No. It’s an original. My grandmother gave it to my mother for her sixteenth birthday. The only family memento she took with her when she ran away.”
“Oh, that’s so romantic. And what about you? You were married, I think you once told me. But you never gave me any details.”
“Lucia and I met at college. At the time, we were full of high hopes. I wanted to teach economics, she took science courses and planned to go into medicine. Then she became pregnant.” His face darkened with the memories. “Our grand plans crashed on the rocks. I had to drop out of college to make money. That’s when I went to work for my uncle. She lost the baby while I was in Mexico checking on some oil suppliers. Over that year, we grew awkward together. The harder we tried to glue our relationship together, the more it fell apart. So we divorced. Eventually, she did become a doctor.”
“I’m embarrassed it’s taken me so long to find out about you.”
Andrei sat down on the edge of the sofa beside her. “I could have told you anytime. I just chose not to.” He touched her head, lingering a little longer than was necessary. “How’s the headache now?”
“Much better. What’s in that tea? It’s a wonder drug.” Maria raised her eyes to his and felt a sudden impulse to hold him. She put her arms around him and nestled her head on his shoulder. He smelled faintly of citron aftershave and sweat. He traced the outline of her cheek, and then kissed her gently. His lips were supple and warm. In spite of herself, she responded, kissing him back. She felt his hands on her face, his fingers twined in her hair. She opened her mouth to him, felt the shock of his tongue tasting her. She tasted him too, caressed his jaw with her hands, felt the rough stubble between her fingers.
Maria knew she should stop him. But she found herself yielding to his kiss with an urgency of her own. When she finally pulled away, his eyes drew her back in. Like a dream she didn’t want to wake up from.
CHAPTER 21
Maria could feel Andrei’s heart beating against her chest. He kept one arm around her and slid his other hand underneath her T-shirt. He moved it tenderly, as if her skin were a delicate piece of silk that he couldn’t help but caress, causing satisfying shivers to race through her. Her lips were open, still treasuring the newness of his tongue on hers. She had no will, no desire to resist. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the luxury of her sensations.
His hands traveled up her body, touching her waist, stomach, breasts, as if he were committing her form to his tactile memory, saving it for a time she’d no longer be with him. He touched her lightly, stroked her nipples to hard peaks. A soft moan escaped her lips. She tugged the T-shirt up to her shoulders, inviting him explore her. She gathered the strength to look at him, to confront whatever emotion she found there, but his eyes were downcast.
Andrei brushed the tips of his fingers very lightly over the red welts on her breasts. “Thorpe did this to you?”
She nodded. “If you hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have left that room alive. But we got him. It’s over.”
“You’re safe. He’ll never harm you again. I promise.” He smoothed her hair. “I’ve never thought of you the way other men do. They see your beauty, but they don’t see you. How smart you are, how strong.” His voice was barely a whisper. He kissed her lips again, and then her jaw, and then her neck, sending waves of pleasure down her spine. She arched her back as he nuzzled her neck and murmured beautiful things to her. She ached to have him inside her. He pulled the T-shirt over her head and she fell back against the pillows. He caressed her exposed throat, and then tongued her nipples so tenderly she thought she would melt. Andrei’s hands and mouth were a revelation, so different from those of her clients, whose attention to her body seemed like an afterthought.
Maria reached up and pulled his shirt over his head, arched her back to press her breasts against his powerful chest, ran her fingers down the smooth sweaty skin of his back. She trailed her lips over his Adam’s apple, kissed the soft skin of his neck, loving the salty taste of his sweat. He groaned at the feeling the moist tip of her tongue produced, and placed her hand against his cock, stretched full and hard in his jeans.
A little voice inside her told her it was not too late to stop. That she could push him back, say she didn’t know what had come over her, even admonish him for taking advantage of her. But her body craved him. It wanted to be wicked. A demon had taken hold of her and it was not to be denied. For once, she didn’t have to pretend. Her desire was fierce; she wanted to give herself to him without holding anything back. She didn’t want to be a professional tonight, didn’t want to dip into her bag of tricks. Tonight she was just a regular girl making love to the man she trusted most in the world.
She resisted the urge to be the aggressor, to spread her legs for him or unzip his jeans. She didn’t want to do anything to break the spell. Instead she looked into his eyes and got lost in them.
“God,” he managed to say. “Slow it down. I might not be able to hold out.”
She smiled. “We’re just getting started.”
He laughed and his gaze slid from her face to her breasts, her narrow waist and the smooth cleft between her thighs. He pressed his lips to her belly, stroking the swell of her hips with his fingers. When he got to her mound, he nudged her thighs open and breathed in her scent. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she was nervous, embarrassed, and afraid he might reject her.
He didn’t. He stroked her tenderly with his fin
gers, liking the slippery flow, evidence of the pitch of her arousal. He gently circled her most sensitive spot, brushed over it with the softest of touches. She was used to much harder, more energetic manhandling by her clients, fingers digging roughly into her vagina, playful slaps on her bottom. This was different. This was heaven.
She pushed down gently on his shoulders. His tongue found her nub and lightly flicked over it. He tasted her, teased her, danced in and out of her most secret place. Her vagina tightened so hard, she almost cried out, then the delicious quiver began; she was almost unaware of pulling him to her, of rocking her hips. Her nails raked his back and she whispered fiercely in his ear, “Fuck me, Andrei. Please.”
He searched her eyes, as if to reassure himself of what she was feeling. “I want you to be sure.”
“I am.” Her kiss was slow and soft, and she cradled his face in her hands. “I am.”
Truth is not static, and for that moment at least, she told him the truth. Those two words seemed to lift the heaviness from the man whose face she’d seen almost every day for the last three years, whose taciturn expression she’d grown so used to.
“I’m sure,” she said again. “I need you.”
“I never dreamed I’d have a chance with you,” he mumbled against her belly.
Andrei raised himself up, unzipped his jeans and tugged them off. His cock was rock hard, bigger than she’d imagined. She grasped it in her hands, and he jerked as though he was holding back his climax. “Whoa, whoa. Take it easy.” He laughed. He reached into the coffee table drawer, got a condom and rolled it on.
With one hand tangled in her hair, he guided himself inside with the other, stretching her open. Her eyes closed in bliss, a sigh escaped her lips.
“Look at me, Maria. Open your eyes.” The gaze in his own eyes spoke of vulnerability but also confidence in himself as a man.
He filled her completely, and together they watched as he moved in and out of her, his abs tensed and gleaming with sweat. The sight of him, strong and naked above her, was too much. Too beautiful. She moved her hips in time with his, felt each delicious pull and plunge of their sex. It brought an overwhelming sense of joy and abandon. A wantonness of a different kind.
With every stroke he brushed her clit with a sure, light touch, bringing her rapidly to the brink. Every time she closed her eyes, he implored her to look at him. She was powerless to resist, and that powerlessness thrilled her to her core. She gave everything she had to him. Surrendered. She cried out as the flood of orgasm consumed her, rolled through her body. And still he fucked her, moving in wider and wider circles, over and over again, grinding into her. She was molten lava inside. Everything he did to her ignited a flame. She came and came again—and didn’t even feel the tremor than ran through his body when he finally climaxed.
They lay for a while in the luxurious aftermath, their bodies still entwined, still sparking. He got up and turned his back to her almost as if, having been carried away with his need, he was embarrassed to let her see him naked. He reached for a tissue on the coffee table and wrapped up the condom, tossed it in a wastebasket, swooped up his briefs and jeans and hastily tugged them on. A sheen of perspiration gleamed on his skin.
She pulled the T-shirt back on. It was as if, by donning their clothes, they were separating themselves from the intimacy that had gone before. Maria felt dazed, and became aware again of the ache in her head. Andrei sat down on the edge of the sofa and ran his fingers through her hair. “Feel better now?”
Her green eyes widened. “Oh, that’s what that was—more of your medicine?”
He grinned, tucked the quilt around her and planted a light kiss on the top of her head. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you up every hour like Dr. Levkin said to.”
Suddenly, she felt exhausted. She snuggled down deep and welcomed the oblivion sleep brought.
An hour later, Andrei stirred her from sleep by gently stroking her arm and saying her name. She sat up with a start, not knowing at first where she was. Then she saw his kind, concerned face, sank back into the pillows and drifted off.
But her rest didn’t last for long. Her old nightmare returned. She felt the lumpy, filthy mattress beneath her and a cold draft. She searched for moonlight in the high window, yet the room was pitch-black. She was frightened and stilled her own breath. She heard the softest of footfalls, and then the scraping of wood as the crib railing was slowly lowered. The Blackbird had returned, the hulking figure from the orphanage who came to her in the dead of night. He peered down at her with glittering black eyes. He had a face now. It was Thorpe’s.
Maria gasped and wrenched herself awake. Andrei had left the balcony doors open. The spring breeze had turned into a chill night wind and the quilt was tangled around her legs. Her head was clear but she still shook from the aftermath of her nightmare. She sat up, reached down and gathered the folds of the cover around her. Somewhere out on the beach came the faint sound of a woman’s scream. A cry of passion or violence? She couldn’t tell. She shivered. The apartment was totally silent except for the steady ticking of a clock. It seemed to come from the kitchen. Maria strained to catch any sound of Andrei turning in his bed or murmuring in his sleep, yet heard nothing. The silence began to feel eerie.
The bathroom was tucked between the kitchen and Andrei’s bedroom. Maria hugged the quilt around her like a cape and tiptoed toward it. She heard Tramp whine in his sleep as she passed by. She shut the bathroom door quietly and flicked on the light. Andrei’s shaving things lay haphazardly on the sink counter, a wet towel lay on the floor. She peed but didn’t flush, afraid the sound might wake him. Fully intending to return to her couch, she stopped when she saw his bedroom door was open and peeked in to reassure herself he was still there.
The blinds let enough light in through the window that she could see him lying on his side, the duvet down to his waist, his arm flung over a pillow. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. She wanted to lie close to him. She would be quiet and take care not to wake him. Letting the quilt drop, she took off the T-shirt and slid in between the sheets. He rolled onto his back, mumbled something, then turned on his side again. Maria inched nearer, tucked her head behind his neck, nestled in a curl around him. She never slept with her clients and had forgotten the simple comfort of lying close to a man.
Andrei suddenly shifted and sat halfway up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”
“I was cold. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He gave a low laugh. “You honestly think you could just crawl up beside me and I wouldn’t notice?” He glanced at his phone on the bedside table. “It’s okay. The alarm would have gone off in another ten minutes anyway for me to check on you.” He played with her hair, swept a few strands off her brow. “How are you feeling?”
She snuggled closer to him. “Fine.”
“Well, that’s good, because I’m wide awake now and I want something.”
“What?” She gave him an innocent look from under her long lashes.
“Nothing too much. Just every atom of you.”
“I have a headache.” Maria giggled.
“I have the antidote.”
“Really? Where?”
“Where do you think?”
They laughed together, then Maria shifted down the mattress. She slipped her hand over his penis and found him already stiffening. She stroked him to full hardness, then licked his balls, moving lower to fondle the softness between his testicles and his buttocks. From experience, she knew touching a man there would electrify him, and she wanted to give Andrei every pleasure. He gasped and swore—nicely—under his breath.
Smiling to herself under the sheet, she took him in her mouth, using her tongue to explore the satiny skin of his shaft. He gently helped her fellate him, urging his rigid penis in and out of her mouth. The heat rose from him like an oil flame. When his rhythm grew too fevered, she stopped him.
“Not yet,” she said, her voic
e muffled by the covers.
He pulled her up, gathered her in his arms and moved to the center of the bed. He made her kneel with her head down resting on her forearms. He kissed the delicate skin at the nape of her neck, and ran his tongue down the ridges of her spine. She shuddered with delight. His warm hands spanned her bottom, followed by the wet, delicious slide of his tongue down her crease. “You have a beautiful ass,” he murmured before licking one finger and slipping it inside. He slid another in her vagina—a double penetration—as though he wanted nothing about her to be unknown to him. She tightened her muscles, almost swooned.
“Open your legs wider,” he coaxed. “Show me how much you need me.”
She obeyed, and was rewarded with the pleasure of her sex being filled slowly and completely. With one arm locked around her waist, Andrei pulled her body in to meet his thrusts. He reached beneath her and stroked her clitoris. Irresistible pressure began to build in her groin; she couldn’t contain the tiny moans that rose up from deep within her. Then, suddenly, he abandoned her clit and tugged on her nipples, pinched them hard enough to make her buck voluptuously. She tried to hold back, put off the moment so they could come together, but she lost the battle. Her muscles flexed and trembled and she cried out shamelessly. Her whole body shook with the power of her orgasm. His release came in a rush on top of hers and they lay together, locked in the wet heat of a lovers’ embrace.
When the morning light roused her, she could hear Andrei in the shower and smell the aroma of coffee in the air. Andrei had left her a cup steaming hot on the bedside table. She sipped at it, thick with real cream, sugar and a faint taste of mocha. She usually drank her coffee black but found Andrei’s version heavenly. A demure print dress and some slip-ons lay on the chair beside the bed. She stretched, put them on, got a comb from her purse and dragged it through her tangled hair. She felt surprisingly refreshed and strong but in the clear light of day dreaded facing Andrei. Her stomach actually sank at the thought of it. She was ashamed of letting go so completely with him last night. And she rarely felt embarrassed.
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