“You look like a filthy fucking wet dream come to life,” I tell her. Shit, when did I start sounding like K with the gravelly voice? I clear my throat and step to her. Then I bend my head and take one nipple in my mouth, tasting the cherry flavor.
I suck her left tit hard, as I palm the other one before I swap sides.
“You like my lip gloss,” she observes.
“Tastes of cherries,” I say.
She licks her lips and smiles. “I suppose it does. I hadn’t really noticed.”
She kneels again, takes the tube, and smears the red gloss all over the end of my dick. It pulses, and a clear bead of pre-cum weeps from my slit.
Zoey bends her head and takes me into her mouth again, sucking me deep and hard. She lifts her head and smirks. “Cherries and salt, nice taste. They ought to make it a cocktail and call it Cherry Dick.”
Fuck me, if I weren’t where I am in life, I think I’d book us on a flight to Vegas and marry her right now. Instead, I grab her hair in my fist and force her back down on my cock, pushing in deep. She gags, but she doesn’t pull away. I thrust into her mouth, fucking it, fucking her, and I only stop when I’m about to come.
She straightens her spine as she looks at me and wipes her mouth and then her streaming eyes.
Like this, with her red-stained nipples, smeared lips, and messy eyes, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I glance to my side and see the huge picture window with London spread out beyond. “Come on, Cherry Bomb.” I take her wrist and march her to the window.
I yank her panties down roughly and push them to one side when they hit the floor. She’s only in her heels now, and I kick her legs apart. “Put your hands on the glass,” I order her. She does as I say.
I walk back and undress as I admire her. She looks like a porn star. She’s shaved, totally bare, and her pussy is shiny and slick. I decide suddenly I want to taste her. Smiling to myself, I grab the abused lip gloss and kneel behind her. Her wet pussy is right in front of me. I part her folds and apply the lip gloss to her clit. I smear it all over her, and she moans and pushes her flesh into me. I throw the gloss to one side and devour her.
It doesn’t take more than a minute or so before she comes. She grinds her pussy and ass up against me as she cries out and moans, her legs shaking.
I stand, reach for my pocket, and take out a condom. I put it on, then push her against the glass so her flesh is flattened against it. I drive into her from behind, and she screams a strangled yes.
We fuck like animals. We fuck like we’re possessed. At some point, I decide the thrill of having half of London’s office workers getting to see us screw isn’t worth the position where I can’t get as deep as I want. I pull Zoey away from the window and bend her over a desk in the corner. That’s better, I think as I sink balls deep.
Her head is turned to the side, and her face is red and damp with perspiration. “God, yes, Vasily. Please.”
I don’t know what she’s asking for because I’m fucking her as hard as I can. Then I get with the program and reach around, finding her clit and rubbing it as she holds my hand, guiding me and showing me how she likes it.
She comes, and I go over the edge right with her.
When I come down, draped over her, panting and sweating, I’m already wanting more.
We have more too. I screw her in the bed, missionary because I want to see her face as she comes. Then she goes on top the third time, and I fuck her as I drive my middle finger into her ass, and she nearly breaks it as she contracts around it so tight when she comes. It makes me want to fuck her in the ass.
Sadly, for my dick, after the third time, Zoey falls asleep. She’s on her side, snoring softly, and that’s just too endearing. I’m watching her, and I’ve never felt so sated. So … at peace.
I watch her, and then it begins. It’s a faint stirring of something I don’t recognize at first. Then it hits me. It is anxiety. The peace fades as the reason I’m feeling so damn good hits me.
I’ve just had the best, most mind-blowing sex of my life. Sex so good I want to keep on doing it, and with this woman only, until my dick falls off. Sex so good that I want to take my Cherry Bomb, stuff her in the back of my car, and ride off with her into the sunset.
Fuck.
What have I done? I came here to fuck her and get her out of my system, and instead I’ve somehow fucked her into my soul.
As anxiety morphs into something more like panic, I act like the total dick I am.
I get up, get dressed, and creep out of the hotel room, leaving Zoey all alone.
Chapter Twenty-four
Bohdan
Corfu
I watch Dasha sleep, and my heart fills with so much love it hurts. Her mother is moving around downstairs already. I can hear her rattling pots and pans. She’s probably making breakfast. At least the sour old witch can cook.
Her presence here in the house is really pissing me off, and thankfully, she’s started talking about maybe moving back to St. Petersburg. Dasha is encouraging her in this. Last night I overheard her tell her mother she’d be able to afford a beautiful house and show all her old friends how well she’s done for herself.
Dasha will always love her mother. You do always love your parents, I suppose. In a weird, bizarre way, I must still love my dad despite everything because I often want to show him what I’ve made of myself. Or maybe, I simply hate him and can’t tell the difference after all these years. Perhaps I want him to be proud of me, or really, I want to shove his face in all I have achieved and make him feel like shit?
Either way, it’s irrelevant because he’s dead.
I get dressed, smart today, as I have a meeting this morning. I’m quiet as I do, leaving Dasha to sleep. I kept her up late last night. I smile to myself as I think about fucking her in the shower, the water streaming down all around us.
When I hit the kitchen, I decline the breakfast Mrs. Imanovich offers me and grab a banana instead. She’s weirdly happy this morning. The woman is usually morose. I take a bottle of chilled water from the fridge and shoot her a goodbye as I head out. She says goodbye back, and it’s sickly sweet. As is her smile.
It makes me suspicious.
Why has the woman who has been so miserable suddenly decided to be all amenable and falsely nice?
I click the car keys, and the door beep-beeps and unlocks. I took delivery of the car three days ago. It’s a new Land Rover Defender, and I fucking love it. It’s going to be used off-road I hope when myself and Dasha take it exploring this gorgeous country. I want to see Greece, not just Corfu. This car will help us explore the mainland as we travel around. Of course, I’ll have to fit it around the work I’ll be doing with Andrius and K, and with Dasha’s school, but we can make it work.
This morning I have a meeting with a local uniform supplier. It’s a surprise for Dasha. I’ve spoken to K and Andrius, and they say they’d be happy for us to build a small school and dorm on the land. We went over the maps of the land we’ve bought, and there’s an area toward the back of the property where we could be totally out of eyesight and earshot of the military training area, which could also have a separate entrance.
Hopefully if this meeting with the supplier goes well, I’ll be able to show Dasha where she could build her dance school. I want her to be here with me, but to be free to do her own thing. I don’t want her tied to me the way Violet is to Andrius. Not because I judge them for that, as it works for them, but because Dasha has spent years being a prisoner. I want her to fly now.