by Deja Voss
I feel closer to him than I ever have, and it’s not just because his cock is inside me.
He wraps my hair around his fist, tugging just a little bit. The warmth pools between my thighs as he begins moving my head back and forth, pushing himself further and further towards my throat, and tears well up in my eyes.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to take this pretty mouth?” he groans. “How long I’ve wanted to use every inch of your body?”
I reach for my nipples, desperate for some sort of release. I moan on his dick as I twist and turn them into hardened nubs.
“Does it turn you on, baby? Knowing that God put you on this earth to please me? That the reason why your ex husband couldn’t make you cum was because your pussy always belonged to me?”
He stares me in the eye as he holds my cock so dangerously deep in my mouth I feel like I’m losing air. I don’t even care. I want everything he has to offer. The pleasure. The pain. I want to give it all to him.
He pulls out and I choke and sputter, but before I can catch my breath he pulls me up off the floor, pushing his lips to mine. As his tongue swirls my mouth, his hands travel down my body, his electric touch covering my body in goosebumps.
He turns me around and presses me up against the desk, and the sound of the condom ripping open is like music to my ears.
“So wet for me,” he growls, tracing his fingers up and down my sex. I feel like I’m going to explode already, the pressure building inside me with a force I never met before. I don’t know if he climbed inside my mind or if he could see it on my face, but I’ve never been with a man who could make me climax before. Now I’m right on the edge and as he kisses the back of my neck, I know he’s purposely teasing and torturing me with his fingers. I thrust back towards him, trying to guide him to my clit, but he has his own agenda. “So eager. You have a lot to learn about patience, love.”
The tip of his cock presses up against me, and I let out a desperate cry.
“I’ll teach you,” he says, his voice rich with gravel. “You will learn whether you like it or not.”
His hands grip my breasts as he slowly presses his way inside my dripping pussy. I feel like I’m being ripped in half, the delicious pain of the pressure of my body stretching to accommodate him.
“You’re perfect,” he groans, taking his fingers and pressing them into my clit as he slowly thrusts in and out. “This cunt was made for me.”
He brings his fingers to my mouth, and I take them hungrily, tasting my desperation and sucking it all down.
“This mouth, too. Mine.”
His tongue flicks my ear as his calloused hand travels to my throat, his fingers dancing across my neck in a pitter patter before he squeezes it just lightly enough to cut off my breathing just a little bit. I thrust my ass back into him, wanting him to take me harder, hurt me more, destroy me and make me whole.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he says with a devious laugh that makes the hair on my arms stand up on end.
“I want it all,” I taunt. My voice comes out hoarse. It doesn’t even feel like my own. I am outside my body watching this man ravish me. I am outside my mind. If he wants to fuck me to death, I will die with a smile on my face. “I want to make you feel good.”
“Oh, you do, my love,” he whispers in my ear. “You make me feel so bad and you make me feel all better. You’re the disease and the cure, and I will spend my whole life poisoning myself on you just to make myself well.”
He grips my hips with hands rough enough to leave marks, his thrusts hard enough to pick my toes up off the floor every time he slams into me. When he strokes my clit with his thumb, my head goes back into his neck and my body goes limp.
“Cum for me,” he commands. “Give me what I want. I want to feel that sweet pussy explode.”
I close my eyes and lose control, sinking into the sweet sensation of falling off a cliff with him, everything on my body contracting and relaxing at once. I have to remind myself to breathe because I feel like I’m about to blackout.
He holds me firm on his cock as he finishes inside the condom, and presses a sweet kiss to my shoulder.
“Wow,” is all I can fathom as he turns me around and hugs me to his chest. Nothing about what just happened makes me feel cheap or dirty, bought and paid for, or just living out my obligations. It feels right. It feels good. It feels… meant to be. “Just, wow.”
His lips graze the top of my head. I want to live in this moment forever, and right now, it almost feels like that’s possible. He goes to the trash can to get rid of the condom and I lean up against the desk, not quite ready to put my clothes on. I want him to wrap his arms around me and hold me. I want him to promise me this is what forever would feel like.
The sound of squealing tires roar up the driveway, and he peeks out the window blinds and looks over at me with a disappointed frown on his face. “I gotta take care of something,” he says, swallowing hard.
Moment ruined.
I guess I got so wrapped up in the now, I forgot about who he is and what he does. This city never sleeps and criminals don’t care if it’s after six PM.
“Oh, misui, no,” he says, handing me my clothes when he notices the sadness on my face. “It’ll be quick, I promise. I’m not shoving you away. My work schedule is just…” He cocks his head and cracks his knuckles. “It’s not really a schedule at all. I’m kind of on call 24/7.”
“Like a doctor,” I say with a petty laugh.
He rolls his eyes at me and slaps my ass. “Go take a bubble bath and put on some comfy clothes. We’ll have dinner together later. I’m not done with you yet.”
Unfortunately neither am I.
Being here with him only reminds me that no matter how far away I move, how many men I marry, how hard I try to run… I’ll never be done with Serafin Mazur.
12
Mia:
“What the heck are these?” I’ve never seen a bouquet of roses so garish in my whole life. The vase alone crowds my desk, and it’s overflowing with roses of every color. It smells heavenly, but everyone in the office is staring at me like they’re in on some inside joke and I’m the butt of it. “Did a client send these for Jakub?”
“I think your boyyyyyyfriend sent them for you, Mia,” Dyta, the secretary says. Even after only being here two days, I can tell she’s the kind of woman who lives for juicy gossip. She’d probably have a field day if she knew half my story. I can’t help but like her, though. She always has the right thing to say, and even though we all wear the same ‘uniform’ here, black dresses with matching high heels, her personal style stands out with her streak of pink in her hair and big chunky silver jewelry dotted with gemstones of every color. “What did he do? Run over your dog or something?”
“He didn’t do anything,” I say. Technically, he didn’t come home last night, at least not before I was fast asleep. Chef Tymon caught me in the kitchen foraging for snacks at around nine, and nobody else in the house had heard from him at that point. You’d think I’d be a little more perturbed considering it was the first time we hooked up, but honestly, I didn’t expect anything else from him, and I have enough stuff going on in my brain right now, I don’t need to read into whatever happened between us. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”
Maybe at the end of the day, we just needed to get it out of our system, even though the delicious pain between my thighs is making it hard to forget.
“So what are you then?” she taunts. “His mistress.”
I shrug and give her a wink. “Sure.” She bursts into laughter, and the office door swings open. Fillip, the biggest rockstar in all of Poland, the lead singer of Onyks, comes walking in, his cowboy boots clanking off the marble floor. He’s got on a fur coat that hangs to the ground and a pair of rhinestone studded sunglasses. I met him the other night at the casino, when he looked like he was going to drag Janka up to a hotel room and devour her alive, and I got a bad feeling about him that day. I guess he’s used to being doted on,
and I guess he probably deserves it for how talented and successful he is, but I can’t help but shake the feeling he’s not exactly a nice guy.
“Well, we meet again,” he says, lowering his sunglasses down his nose. His eyes are so bloodshot, it looks like he spent the night puking so hard he burst all the capillaries in his face. “Where’s your friend?”
“That’s the million dollar question,” I mumble. “Do you have an appointment with Jakub?”
Dyta is sitting behind her desk pretending like she doesn’t hear anything, tapping away on her keyboard. Apparently she’s put up with enough of his shit over the years that she doesn’t even acknowledge him.
“I don’t. I was just stopping by to talk about some shit with him, but while I’m here, why don’t we go out and grab some lunch. I think I know exactly what I want for dessert.” He licks his lips and I try not to gag. I’m sure he’s used that line on a million women before and it’s probably worked 99% of the time.
Dyta clears her throat.
“You can come too, Dyta,” he says. “I’m sure I can handle you both.”
“Get bent, Fillip. And you better watch how you talk to Mia. You see these?” she asks, pointing at the big vase of roses. “Her boyfriend just sent them for her.”
“Oh big fucking deal. Any guy can send someone flowers.”
“Well, that boyfriend is Serafin Mazur,” she says with a smug smile. I just nod, biting my lip.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he says, backing away with his hands in the air. “I had no idea. No disrespect to you or the gentleman. Please tell him I send my warmest regards.”
He takes off running out the front door and I burst into laughter. “Apparently he didn’t need to talk to Jakub so badly after all.”
“He’s a sleaze bag. Most of the time he just comes around looking for trouble, I think. Nobody here is willing to put up with his shit.”
“Really?” I ask. I could name a ton of women who would give anything to be with a rockstar, even for a night. Janka comes to mind the most.
“You didn’t deny it,” she teases in a sing song voice. “Serafin is your boyfriend!”
“That was just a matter of convenience.” I say. The phone on my desk starts ringing. I’m surprised but not really when his voice is on the other end of the line.
“Mia, I’m sorry about last night. I’ll make it up to you,” he says.
“You already did,” I say. I debate whether or not to tell him about Fillip, but I get a weird feeling in my stomach. Filip was obviously really afraid of him. It takes me back to a time when we were younger and doors just seemed to open for me. That look on Filip’s face reminds me of the night Mr. Zeilinski gave me a raise at the bakery. I’ve seen that face a hundred times before, and I never really gave it much thought until now. “The flowers. They’re beautiful,” I stammer.
“They’re stupid,” he says. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you and I didn’t know how else to do it.”
“A phone call is fine. This is nice. You don’t have to send me things. Plus, we can hang out tonight.”
There’s a long pause on the phone. He blows out a sigh and I wonder if he’s smoking again.
“I’m going to be out of town for the rest of the day. I have some things that need tied up.”
I don’t know why that statement digs under my skin. What does he mean by tied up? Is he going to tie up and torture somebody? Is he going to use those handcuffs on some other woman and he thinks he’s being coy? I try to remind myself that every time we’re in the same room together it feels like nobody else exists, but I keep coming back to the only thing that ever really kept us apart, his life outside of me. And now, I have a life outside of him, a life he’ll never understand because he hasn’t spent any time in my shoes.
“I understand,” I say.
“I don’t expect you to. I wish I could just drop everything and spend every second with you, Mia. You’re all I can think about. I wish you were here with me right now.”
“Yeah, well… one of these days, I guess,” I say. I don’t want to sound needy or desperate. I don’t to let him know how much I’ve been looking forward to another night with him, or how bad it hurts to be away from him. “Be safe. I’ll see when I see you.”
I hang up the phone before I can say anything else. I don’t want my coworkers to think I’m just some weak gold digger who will let a man unravel her entire day. I’ve already lived that life, and this is the first honest chance I’ve had to escape it. I know even after a couple days Jakub will keep me around if I do a good job. Crying over a guy on the floor is definitely not a good look.
“What happened?” Dyta asks. “Are you ok?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I say, my voice wavering as I try to choke back the mixture of sadness and anger building in my belly. “I just found out I’m free tonight. Want to go grab some drinks after work?”
“You’re speaking my love language, sister,” she says with a laugh. “I know a place where we can get margaritas as big as a fishbowl.”
“Well, I’m ready to drown myself, so that works out well,” I giggle. If he can’t even make a few hours for me, I’m allowed to go out and spend my time as I choose.
He can’t expect me to hang out around that big old creepy house by myself ready and waiting for him to use me. I’m not a piece of furniture. If I’m going to get my life back on track, I’m going to have to start making friends, connections, getting out and seeing the world. If I’m going to get my life back on track, I can’t be completely reliant on him.
I want to, though.
More than anything in the world, I want an easy life with just him and I and the rest of the world doesn’t matter. I just don’t know if he really wants that, too.
13
Mia:
I sip at my margarita. It’s really sour and really strong, and I immediately get a headache. Latin music fills the air in the tiny little nightclub, and Dyta has already ditched me to dance with some sexy stranger with tight pants and expensive leather shoes.
So much for girls’ night out.
I idly pick at some tortilla chips, watching the world go on around me, all these people without a care in the world, dancing and drinking on a Tuesday night. I can’t help but wonder if this is what my life would’ve looked like if I never got married.
The stark reality hits me, if I didn’t marry Bartek, I’d probably have ended up with Serafin, and who knows what that would’ve looked like. I’m sad for all the time we lost together, and I wonder if I would’ve been there for him after his accident if he would’ve ended up a different man.
It’s not like I don’t like him the way he is, it’s just that I don’t like being left in the dark.
Maybe this is his way of punishing me for doing the same thing to him.
I take it in stride, crunching on chips, sipping on my drink, and shooting Dyta a thumbs up when she throws her arms up in the air and screams for me to come join her on the dance floor.
I’m really not the kind of girl who dances.
I’d much rather be somewhere quiet. I stand up from the table and walk over to Dyta, slipping some cash into her bra to cover our tab. She looks disappointed for about two seconds when I tell her I’m going to head out, but then that handsome stranger scoops her up in his arms and she’s back to her version of dancing that looks much more like fucking with clothes on.
As I make my way through the crowded bar, a man sitting in the corner catches my eye. He’s scrolling through his cellphone idly, and doesn’t seem to be paying attention to much of anything, but I bet that’s exactly what Serafin wanted.
Fabian has always had it out for me. He was always jealous that I took Serafin’s attention, and I bet he’s been following me all day on Serafin’s orders, hoping he’ll find some dirt on me. I almost wish I had the balls to get out on that dance floor and put on a show.
Instead, I muster up all the confidence I have and storm over to the table. “Finding what you
’re looking for?” I ask.
He looks up at his phone, and he seems startled by my presence.
“Hey Mia, what are you doing here?” he asks. “Did you actually manage to drag Serafin out to La Sirena? I’ve been trying to get him to come for years. I’m impressed!” He looks over my shoulder, like he expects to see Serafin standing behind me.
“He didn’t send you to spy on me?” I ask.
“I haven’t talked to him all day. I figured you guys were holed up screwing each other stupid. I stopped trying to call.”
My anger turns into worry for an instant. I thought these two worked together. If Serafin had to go out of town on business, surely he’d tell Fabian. I don’t know if it’s safe for me to say much more, but I realize standing here like a dear in headlights probably isn’t sending the best message.
“Are you alright?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
A knockout woman with eyelashes so long they nearly touch her forehead and hair so dark black it’s almost purple comes up to the table and slides in the booth next to him, a margarita in each hand. “Who’s your friend?” she asks.
“This is Mia,” he says.
“THE Mia,” she says, showing off her perfectly white teeth as she smiles. “You really do exist? I thought Serafin was just making things up so he wouldn’t have to come on double dates with us.”
“I told you she existed, babe,” Fabian says, wrapping his arm around her. “We went to high school together.”
“Well, Mia, you look like you haven’t aged a day since then. It’s really nice to meet you. I’m Magda.” She reaches out and takes my hand, shaking it. “This place is awesome, isn’t it? Do you come here often?”