I’m not sure my front door is even fully shut before my back is slammed against it. Aleksandr’s knee is between my legs as he trails hungry kisses down my neck to my collarbone, leaving a fresh burst of lust in his wake. His impatience thrills me. Everything I did from the moment we walked out of that restaurant was meant to torture him. The way I turned and pressed my breasts into him when I kissed him on the sidewalk. The way I brushed the back of my hand across his crotch as I reached for the car door. The way my fingers trailed up and down the inside of his thigh in the back seat on the way to my place.
I roll my hips forward, sliding my center along the ridge of his thigh. His huge legs are insanely built, thick bands of muscle that reflect how hard he works his body every day. He presses into me, the hard line of his erection pushing into me.
I move to slide my hand in between us, eager to feel him again. But in response, he grasps each of my wrists in his hands and brings them up, pinning them over my head against the door with one of his enormous hands.
He steps back half a foot and looks at me, naked lust making his eyes into a twisting riot of steel. I will never tire of seeing him look at me like this. The thought makes my stomach flip over angrily. I don’t do forever. And yet . . .
“This is better,” he says as he appraises my position trapped against the door. “But maybe it would be better without the dress, no?”
Yes, my body screams, but I just raise my eyebrow, daring him to undress me. He slips one hand behind me and gently works the zipper down, and the strapless dress falls away, landing in a puddle at my feet. His sharp intake of breath is his only visible reaction, but as his eyes slide down my body, taking in my nakedness, I glance down below his buckle and sure enough, his dick is straining toward me even bigger and harder than before.
“Could you possibly be any sexier?” he asks approvingly when his eyes finally meet mine.
“I’d be even sexier without my thong,” I say. He uses the tips of his fingers to move the straps of my underwear over each hip, where they fall down my legs. I step out of both the thong and the dress and kick them to the side so I’m standing in front of him in nothing but my heels.
He steps closer to me and trails the tip of his nose down the ridge of mine before tilting his head and capturing my lips with his. The kiss is gentle, like he has all the time in the world to appreciate my body. As he parts my lips with his tongue, his free hand slides up my hip and along my ribcage until he cups my breast in his palm. When his thumb finds my pebbled, aching nipple, I moan into his mouth and that small sound seems to unleash a beast.
His kisses turn hard and insistent, his thumb slides over my nipple again and again until I’m wrapping my leg around his lower back to bring him closer to me. My hips tilt up to meet his thrust for thrust, but I don’t want the stiff fabric of his jeans, I want the silky smoothness of his body.
I turn away from the kiss, mumbling “Take your pants off.” His lips are already kissing that sensitive spot behind my earlobe and I can feel myself getting even wetter in response. I need him inside me now.
He trails his hand from my breast down my sternum, the rough pads of his fingers leaving a trail of fire as he slides them over my stomach and down to my center. He slides a finger along my crease, but even as my hips move toward him, he doesn’t enter me. He brings a finger, slick with my juices, up between our faces. “How long have you been like this?”
“It started when you were rubbing my feet in the restaurant,” I tell him, though our serious conversation was a bit of a buzz kill for my arousal. “And then it really kicked up a notch in the car. I wanted to climb on top of you and fuck you right there in the back seat. I bet the driver wouldn’t have cared.”
“Jesus, Petra,” he hisses between clenched teeth. He’s working hard to maintain his self-control, and I’d do just about anything to break him down, including telling him a story.
“Could you imagine?” I ask. “I could have just swung my leg over your hip and slid my underwear aside.” He plunges two fingers into me, stroking deep and hard, how he knows I like it. “I was already so wet, I could have slid down your cock, taking you inside me easily.” I rock my hips toward him to meet the rhythm his fingers are setting. “My breasts would have been at the same level as your face, you could have just slid the top of my dress down and taken my nipple in your mouth.”
He’s panting, soft breaths meeting my neck, and they turn to a groan as he pushes his erection against my hip as he plunges his fingers into me over and over. “And what would the driver have thought?”
“I mean honestly,” I say, imagining the scene, “he’d probably have been jerking off to the sounds I’d have made.”
“Why does the thought of having sex with you in front of someone else turn me on?” he muses.
I don’t actually know. I’ve never before thought of having sex in front of an audience, but for some reason, this is turning me on as well. “Because it’s hot.”
“You’re fucking unreal,” he says as he pushes his fingers deeper into me, stroking the spot he knows will send me over the edge. The heel of his hand is pressed against my clit and I am so close. His lips crash into mine again, his tongue plunging inside and dominating my mouth. With each stroke of his tongue against mine and his fingers against the walls of my core, he brings me closer and closer to release. And then it’s there, an explosion of sensation that ricochets through my body. I’m seeing stars behind my eyelids and I’m moaning, almost screaming, into his mouth, but he doesn’t let up one bit. He milks that orgasm out of me until my legs hardly work and it feels like the only thing holding me up is his hand between my legs.
“I need you to stand by yourself,” he whispers into my ear. I laugh at the thought, certain I’m about to collapse. “Just for five seconds,” he says.
I nod, my eyes still closed, and lean back against the door to support myself. With one of his hands still holding mine above my head, I know I won’t fall. But then he lets them go, and I bring them down to my sides, rolling my shoulders. Already there’s an aching need inside me that only he can fill.
I hear him undo his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper. I open my eyes halfway to watch him slide his pants and briefs down his legs in one smooth motion. He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the side where he’s kicked his pants. And then he takes his erection in his hand, sliding his fist over himself twice. I didn’t think he could get any harder or larger than he was, but I was wrong. I lick my lips as I watch the scene, and my nipples tingle with anticipation. I want this man like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. It’s the same feeling every single time we’re together, like I will never be able to get enough of him.
He steps back to me and lifts one of my legs up so my knee is at his hip. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring his head to me so I can kiss him, and when I do, he lifts my other leg and slides himself into me in one smooth motion. With my legs wrapped around his hips and one of his forearms under my ass, he pulls out and then careens into me. I’ve never felt stretched open this wide and I’ve never been so deliciously full. I rock my hips to meet him thrust for thrust and he dips his head, trailing his tongue around one nipple before taking the other in his mouth and sucking hard. Long, pulling kisses brings my nipple deep into his mouth and it’s like there’s a lightning rod connecting my nipple and my core as both begin to pulse.
Oh my God, am I going to come again already? “Yes,” I say, resting my head and shoulders against the wooden door. “Yes, keep doing that.”
His hum of agreement reverberates through my body as I lean my shoulders back against the door, chasing my second orgasm only minutes after the first. The feel of him, long and rigid, sliding along my already sensitive walls has my muscles quaking in response. He switches to my other breast and the minute he sucks that nipple into his mouth, my core muscles begin clenching around him. He pounds into me, lifting his head from my breast to look me in the eye. “Yes,” he coaxes, “give it to me.”
I climax with his name on my lips, and my body goes limp against him. I’m spent, but he’s not done. He sets me down gently, then turns me so I’m facing the door. I’d forgotten that there’s a circular window in the arched door until I’m looking out at my quiet street. He uses his feet to spread my legs so they’re shoulder width apart, then he takes each of my hands in his and places them above the window. Gripping my hips, he tilts them back and pushes into me from behind. I’m so sensitive that just having him inside me again is making my muscles clench around him.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his mouth next to my ear.
“Yes. I’m just so sensitive. Be gentle.”
“Like this?” He slides a hand down to my clit, running his finger over and around it, but so light he’s barely touching me.
“Oh no,” I pant as I push my hips back to meet his thrusts. “No, Sasha. I can’t.”
“Can’t come again a third time?” His voice is deliciously low and seductive. “I beg to differ.”
“I’m too tender,” I tell him, afraid I’m so sensitive it will hurt.
“Really?” He continues running his finger over my clit featherlight, and it doesn’t hurt at all. It’s so gentle and loving, and I’m so keyed up and it’s bringing on another kind of orgasm.
“No.” The word is a whisper as it escapes my lips, and in the window I watch the reflection of his face. He’s all concentration right now. His eyebrows dip low as he focuses on bringing me even more pleasure, but the tight pull of his lips between his teeth lets me know how hard he’s working to control his own orgasm.
He slows down, his hips meeting mine with less speed, but he drives even deeper into me, if that’s possible. As his finger works its magic, my legs start to shake, and he wraps his other arm around my waist, holding me to him. “I’ve got you.”
Within seconds my entire body is tensing up, my back arches, and I feel him swell inside me as he can’t hold his own orgasm back any longer. “Yes Petra, now,” he growls into my ear. It’s as if his words trigger the breaking of the dam, and heat floods through me as my white-hot release triggers a full-body orgasm. I feel him pulsing against my inner walls as he pumps his release into me, but it’s the words spilling out of his mouth that turn me on the most.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. It’s always been you, love. Always, only you.”
My orgasm hits me full-force with those words, and I may or may not scream in agreement, I really can’t be sure because suddenly there are tears leaking out of my eyes and it’s like I’ve lost control of all my emotions. I’ve never felt this way about anyone but him, either. Nothing in my life has come close—the ease I feel around him when we hang out, the undercurrent of sexual tension that has me constantly wanting to rip my clothes off and offer myself up to him, the trust we’re building slowly but surely. I could get used to this.
“Hey,” he says softly, his cheek pressed against mine as he holds me against him. “What are these tears about?”
“I’m just . . .” I search for the words. “Overcome with feelings is all. Nothing bad.”
“You have feelings?” he jokes, and it’s exactly the mood lightener I need. We laugh together.
“I assure you, it comes as a shock to both of us.” I turn my head and kiss him on the cheek.
“Let’s get us cleaned up,” he says as he pulls out of me. “I’ll get the shower going.”
“Sasha, I can’t have shower sex right now.”
“Who said anything about sex? But I do want those lips on my dick as soon as possible.” He has the freaking nerve to smirk at me.
“Always the romantic,” I say, rolling my eyes, even though the thought of being on my knees in front of him, taking him in my mouth with water raining down on us, actually does turn me on. Again. Already.
“It’s been weeks since I’ve had your mouth on me, and I just gave you three orgasms,” he reminds me. “A man has needs too, you know.”
“A girl could get used to this treatment,” I say as he hands me a plate with half a bagel and an egg, and sets a glass with a smoothie in front of me. He’s packed it full of raw spinach in an attempt to get more iron in me. The iron supplement sitting next to it already gives me plenty, but I appreciate the effort. “Do you really have to leave?”
He takes a seat across from me. “You know I’d stay if I could, right?”
“I feel a little guilty that I’ve taken you away from Stella this weekend.”
“Don’t. I was supposed to be away this weekend for Games 6 and 7. Raina was already planning to stay at my place, and she and Stella had some fun things planned anyway.”
“Did you tell her you’re here?” I take a sip of my smoothie and swallow down my supplement so he can’t read anything into my facial expression. I don’t want him to feel like he has to hide this relationship, but at the same time, it’s too complicated to explain to her.
“No. Raina knows I’m here, but I don’t want Stella to get any ideas, or be upset that I didn’t bring her too.”
“What kind of ideas?” I ask.
“The forever kind.” He pauses and takes a long gulp of the enormous smoothie he’s drinking. “We had a long talk your last night in New York, when I took her to the park for ice cream.”
“Oh yeah?” I hold my breath, hoping he’ll say more.
“Yeah. She . . .” He pauses again. “She had certain ideas about you staying in New York.”
“What kind of ideas?” I ask again, and take a bite of my bagel to distract from the way my heart is racing and my stomach is flipping over. This feels like the relationship talk I didn’t want to have. But Stella is an important piece of our relationship, and I have to think of her too. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get too close to her so that I didn’t hurt her in the end when I left. My leaving was inevitable, but I’m still here, holding on even when I probably should have let go already.
This is the first time you’ve ever wanted to hold on, I remind myself. But like I told Aleksandr last night, I’ve spent years walking away to protect myself. And now suddenly this isn’t only about me. I have to do what I can to protect Stella from getting hurt too.
“You’re not ready for this conversation,” he says and gets up, turning his back to me. I watch him select a glass from the open shelving on the kitchen wall and walk over to the refrigerator, where he stands at the door, filling the glass at the water dispenser. I hold my tongue, waiting for him to say more. He returns to the table without another word, but his disappointment is written across his face.
“Sasha.” I wait for him to look up at me. “What did she say?”
His eyes bore holes into my face in a way that makes me feel like he’s trying to determine whether I’m worthy of knowing this private piece of info about Stella. By the look on his face, I know what he’s going to say before he says it, but I need to hear it just the same.
“She—” He stops and takes a breath. “She wants you to be her mom.”
My eyes widen, but my vocal cords are paralyzed. Motherhood, my greatest fear and my most secret desire, wrapped into one. I’d set up my “no attachments life” so that a situation like this never happened. And yet something has shifted since Aleksandr walked back into my life with Stella in tow.
My feelings for him are entirely separate from her. I’d love him with or without her. I never really stopped loving him, I suppose, despite how badly he hurt me. That’s the funny thing about love, I guess—it doesn’t always make sense.
But Stella. I’d do just about anything to make sure she doesn’t get hurt again. And is my relationship with Sasha more likely to hurt than help her? What if we try this relationship out, what if we tell her about it, and then things don’t work out between us? She would be absolutely crushed.
I realized I’ve spent too much time in my head when Aleksandr looks out the window to try to hide the disappointment in his eyes.
“Hey,” I say as I reach across the small table and take his hand. He looks up, startled. “I’m just taking this all in. I’m not running away, okay?”
He nods. “I didn’t want to spring this on you.”
“It’s not exactly a surprise.” I give him a small smile. “I love the hell out of that kid, and it’s not like I don’t know she feels the same way. I’m just so afraid that us—our relationship—could hurt her in the end.”
“Only if we let it,” he says.
“There are no guarantees,” I say sadly. I’ve had too many relationships, including one with him, not work out.
“Sure there are.” He shrugs and squeezes my hand. “Petra, we’re legally married. If we choose to honor that, we’re committing ourselves to each other and to Stella. That’s as close to a guarantee as you can get.”
My heartbeat is pounding in my throat, making it hard to swallow. “Sasha, what are you saying?”
“Why not try to make this marriage work?”
The question is asked so casually I’m actually taken aback. “Well, that’s a casual proposal if I’ve ever heard one,” I tease.
“I’m serious,” he says as his thumb strokes the back of my hand. “And I’m being pragmatic. There is no one else I’ve ever wanted to spend every minute with. There’s no one else my body has craved the way it craves yours. We are so good together, Petra. And you and Stella have this special bond too. I’m so cautious with her, maybe too cautious. Very few people in my life even know I’m her guardian. I don’t want to put her in the spotlight. I want to do everything I can to protect her. And I know you feel the same way, about her at least.”
Does he not know if I feel the same way about him?
“Sasha, even though I feel the same way about you and even though I adore Stella, right now I am married to my job.”
“So am I. Our relationship may not look like anyone else’s, but with a little give-and-take from both of us, we can make this work.”
I kind of feel like he’s talking about forever, as if it’s a business transaction with some feelings involved. Is that what it is? Maybe the reason I’ve gotten hurt in the past is that I let the feelings lead? Maybe it does make more sense to approach this like balancing a math equation?
What he’s saying right now makes a lot of sense from a logical standpoint. We are good together. We enjoy each other’s company and we have a serious sexual connection. We both adore Stella and want what’s best for her. But is that the foundation of a good marriage?
“I think we need to see where this goes. See if we can make it work. I don’t want to tell Stella about us until we’re one hundred percent sure, and there are still a lot of unknowns.”
He presses his lips between his teeth for a brief moment, then says, “We’ll have more time to talk about this and to see where things stand when you’re back in New York.”
