They were huge, just like he was. I know there’s a saying about the size of a man’s feet and the size of other things, but I wouldn’t know.
While most of the girls I knew were dead set on losing their virginity before graduation, I was anything but.
I didn’t even go to prom because I always thought prom was a special thing, something that was reserved only for couples that really loved each other, even if it was “just” high school.
I’d rather be alone than with someone I wasn’t truly in love with, or didn’t see myself very easily and naturally falling in love with.
A mental movie plays through my mind as I stand there on the tracks alone. I imagine showing up at the prom that I skipped with that Russian man from the bar.
The teachers staring at his heavily inked hands, his full beard, and his form-fitting suit.
The teacher that had a habit of assigning homework after the bell rang asking him if she can help him, as if he’s in the wrong place.
He gives her a piercing look and in a gruff, matter of fact tone his gravelly voice booms out that he is in the right place, there by my side.
She steps back and apologizes to both of us and wishes us a good evening.
I’m not very tall and I’m not used to having power in my life. Add in the fact that I’m shy and soft spoken and I’m pretty sure people take one look at me and feel like they can walk right over me.
I’ve tried to dispel their thoughts, but I consider myself a nice person and don’t like being rude.
I can imagine how being with this man would change literally everything.
No more people thinking they can take advantage of me because I’m small.
No more feelings of being powerless. It’s not that I feel like a victim…I try my best to avoid that mindset.
But there is something extremely powerful and liberating about knowing no one will even think twice about fucking with me ever again.
My hand shoots up to my mouth at the word. I didn’t even say it, but I imagined it in such detail in my mind I did.
I’m not a prude, but still.
Why can’t I stop thinking about that guy?
Why are my panties getting wetter and wetter the longer I stand here?
I unzip my coat and look down at my chest. Why are my nipples pebbling so much that they’re poking all the way through my bra and my shirt?
And the most important why…why did I run from him?
Maybe I should have been running towards him, although that was completely out of the question at the time.
And do I have so many questions now.
What’s his name?
What does he do?
Does he…have a woman in his life?
But I’ll never know, and that’s really a shame.
I’ve never experienced anything like that, and I’ve never “met” anyone like him before.
And now, I guess I never will.
CHAPTER 3
Anya
I slowly push the door to the classroom open, trying to avoid a squeak or anyone looking back over their shoulder at me.
It took way more time than it should have on the metro, plus an extra half an hour finding the classroom, but I finally made it.
I look inside. The classroom is an auditorium. The lights are out except for the overhead projector and a few small ceiling lights which provide minimal illumination.
What I can see is that the room is packed except for the last three rows.
I quietly shut the door and slide into the first seat, trying not to make a scene.
I remove my coat and scarf and pull my small notebook from my coat pocket and get ready to start taking notes.
The textbooks don’t arrive to the bookstore until tomorrow. Apparently they were updated for this year, which I’m guessing means a few sentences were changed so the teacher and the publishing company could continue stuffing their pockets for another year with an “updated” version, but their motives to create an unnecessary recurring revenue stream at their students’ expense is beside the point. I’m excited to get started.
Wow, I made it. Taking classes abroad.
A small sense of pride washes over.
The teacher says something in English as he faces the wall where the projector is displaying his slides, his back to us. Suddenly he stops mid-sentence.
The voice sounds familiar…too familiar.
My eyes zoom in on him just in time to see his entire body spin around. Even from the back row I can clearly see his face as he raises his chin and sniffs the air.
His eyes close and I swear he looks like Hannibal Lecter in those basement prison scenes, as played by Anthony Hopkins in the original Silence of the Lambs, as he takes in the scent that he seems to very visibly be obsessing over.
“Where is she?” he says.
I feel my butt and back slide down my seat as I try and make myself small.
It’s the same way he smelled the air back at the Pod Mukhoi Bar.
Is he talking about…
Can he smell…
No!
“Where are you?” he says as he leaves the podium and starts walking up the aisle.
Suddenly the bell rings and the students reach for their things.
“You!” he says staring at me.
He dashes up the aisles taking two steps at a time, but quickly the students between us fill the aisle in an attempt to leave class.
I grab my jacket and run to the door, pushing through and I just keep running, and running, and running.
I run right past the metro station until I find a small alley.
I slide in and try and catch my breath.
It’s cold outside but I don’t need my coat, but then again I don’t need a cold either.
I reach for my scarf, needing to wrap it around my mouth so I don’t breathe in the cold air.
Sticking my hands in the pockets of my coat I come up empty.
Shit! My scarf wasn’t in my coat, it was on top of it. When I grabbed my jacket it must have fallen off and onto my seat.
My eyes close and my head falls.
My grandma knitted me that scarf just before she passed. It’s been with me for years and is my most precious keepsake.
“Fuck!” I yell, not caring who hears me this time. I pound the wall with my fists.
The auditorium will be locked by the time I get back to class. I pull out my phone and look at the time and the schedule for the day.
It’s so late in the day that the building will be locked too. I don’t speak Russian and I don’t know if the janitor will let some crazy girl that’s basically trying to sign language the fact that she needs her scarf, back into the building.
I could try Google Translate, but even that’s a long shot.
And the biggest dilemma…him.
I can’t believe it.
The man from the bar was my instructor.
I pull my syllabus out of my pocket and read it.
Day one: Sergey Smirnov, guest lecturer. Mr. Smirnov is one of the most successful Russian businessmen of the twenty-first century. He will be speaking about how he turned his chemistry degree from Moscow State University into a multi-billion dollar global empire.
Multi-billion dollar global empire?
And this guy is knocking out four guys at once in some small bar just next to a metro station.
Why would he take that risk?
There’s no way he did it for me…is there?
I look back down at the syllabus. Apparently the second class our real instructor begins teaching, so that means Sergey was only there for that one class.
Putting my jacket on I make my way back to the university.
I don’t know if I’m going to find a janitor, Sergey, or the place a complete ghost town, but there’s one thing that seems clear.
Sergey is out to find me.
And that excites me more than anything ever has.
CHAPTER 4
Sergey
&nb
sp; “I want her name!” I say, slamming my fist down on the dean’s table so hard his name placard falls to the floor.
“Mr. Smirnov, I’m sorry, but it’s against university policy to disclose such things,” he says, his voice cracking.
I don’t have to inhale deep to smell the fear in the room. The smell of it is thick and his body language gives it away even more.
“I’ll donate a million dollars to the university. Just give it to me and give it to me now,” I demand.
Fuck, I’ve never lost my cool like this before and it’s all because I’ve never seen a girl like her before.
Her dark hair and those striking blue eyes. The innocence they hold and the feminine way she carries herself.
“Mr. Smirnov, Russia is trying to take steps to avoid corruption. As a country we must—“
“As a man you must give me her name!” I say slamming my fist on the table again, putting a dent in the thick oak. “I don’t give a damn about the country right now. What did Mother Russia ever do for you, Dean?” I say. “It wasn’t until the day after the Westerners celebrate Christmas in 1991 that the markets opened up and we were able to get what we wanted, to make our own lives. My life is her and I will not leave here without getting her name. You will give it to me and you will give it to me now!” I say.
I walk around the side of his desk and hover over the top of him.
My body is too big and too intimidating and he knows that I’ll follow through.
I was known as an obsessive student when I studied here and the reputation has accurately stayed with me ever since.
The dean slides his chair away from me and I step forward, getting right over the top of him again.
“Please, Mr. Smirnov. Give me room to stand up.”
“You don’t get me that name and you will be crawling.”
He slides his chair to the side and quickly stands before I get to him, that is if you consider cowering in fear with hunched shoulders standing.
He goes to his filing cabinet and pulls out a folder. Don’t they have this stuff on a computer somewhere?
Regardless he starts looking through some papers before I snatch the whole folder from his hand and find the class myself.
My eyes scan the seating chart.
“Fuck,” I growl deeply when I see the last three rows are marked as empty. She wasn’t in her assigned seat.
“I’ll be back,” I say, ripping the paper from the file.
I open his office doors and walk into the reception area. His secretary stands and winks at me as she straightens out her dress which is too high on the thigh and too low cut.
No thanks.
The only woman I want is listed somewhere on this paper and I will find her.
I make a copy of the paper and take the original back to the dean.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Thank you for stopping by, old friend,” he says as I walk out. He’s trying to save face in front of his secretary, but I don’t care about that kind of stuff.
I’d suffer a humiliating death on the frozen tundra of Siberia if someone told me she was there. I don’t give a damn.
When you want something with everything you’ve got you go all in, and I’m all in on her.
I leave the building and make my way home.
Her name is on this paper. That I know.
Now all I have to do is find her…and make her mine.
And nothing will stop me in my pursuit of perfection…her.
CHAPTER 5
Sergey
I lift the scarf to my nose, smelling it as I stare out the window of my penthouse condominium which overlooks Red Square.
It’s almost surreal outside, the snow blanketing the city, but is it ever hot and chaotic inside.
I barely have the heat on and I’m burning up.
I can’t stop thinking of her, not that I would even want to try.
And I’ve been trying since the minute I got home to find her online. It’s now well past midnight and it’s the first break I’ve taken, although I’m not really taking a break because I’m still completely focused on her and only her.
I take a few steps back and fall onto my couch, smelling her scarf once again.
My sense of smell is more acute than anyone on the planet, and that’s a verified fact. I have the nose of one hundred dogs, a thousand sharks smelling a drop of blood, yet I’ve never smelled anything like her.
When your life is guided by smell you quickly realize most people are about the same. Sure, there are subtle differences that distinguish us all, and I can pick them out and remember them like there’s a card catalog or database in my mind, but by and large there’s not a big variation between the scents of most people.
Except hers.
It’s like she’s literally an angel and I just can’t get my head around how or why.
I sniff the scarf again and my cock jerks in my pants. I’ve been hard since the moment I saw her until now. The pain has reached an unbearable level.
Running up those steps in the classroom I thought my dick was going to snap in my fucking pants, but you can’t snap a steel pipe.
I considered pushing through all those bodies to get to her, but I would have whacked a bunch of the students with my rod, and that’s beyond unprofessional and wrong.
Hiding it when I was behind the podium or turned to face the wall was easy, but out in the open it was beyond noticeable.
I unzip my pants, pull my cock out of my briefs and began stroking that bad boy from root to tip. I didn’t even have time to pull my pants down all the way or anything like that.
Jerking off isn’t my thing at all. I’ve never even done it. The only times I’ve experienced a release was at night, nocturnal emissions as they’re know. The word itself sounds like some sort of polluted factory.
And my mind sure was polluted right now, with all the thoughts of the things I wanted to do to her.
And it was cranking out ideas just like a factory too.
I grit my teeth and growl as I imagine her riding my dick.
“Fuck me harder, Sergey. I want to take all of you inside me.”
My breathing picks up as I continue to hear her voice.
“Oh fuck you’re so big. I want you to come inside me, make me pregnant with your first born son.”
“Fuck!” I yell, the bass from my voice booming through the room and bouncing off the walls.
Damn I was close.
My grip around my rod tightens and I imagine my hand is her hole, and I want the whole thing.
I stack my hands and push through, feeling the friction as my mind fills with images of her on her back, writhing on the sheets, moaning, mouth open wide and pussy open even wider for me, because it’s mine.
Mine to claim.
Mine to own.
Mine to fill with my seed.
“I’m gonna come,” she says in my visualization.
My hands subconsciously clamp down on my dick, imagining they’re her channel and I explode into the air.
My torso spasms forward and I hear the sound of my giant load land on the suede couch cushion next to me.
My heart’s beating so hard I can barely breathe, as another geyser erupts followed by another and another.
Finally, my dick shoots the last of my come and empties from my balls.
As good as it felt, now I’m angry. I’m pissed the fuck off.
I try to catch my breath thinking about how incredible of a release that was, but how it absolutely wasn’t her.
But it’s going to be, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.
I’m going to fill her with everything I have, and I’ll do a whole lot more too.
Because when it came to her I was ready to do everything.
I try and stand to get the stuff I need to clean the couch, but as I stand I still feel lightheaded and fall right back down on my ass.
Damn, I can run a six-minute mile and bench three hundred and fifty pounds twenty-five ti
mes. I’m six foot five and weigh two hundred and twenty-five pounds with seven percent body fat. In other words I’m a fucking rock, a beast of a man.
Russian's Obsession: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 88) Page 2