“Tell me,” he said again.
He didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but the way she moved underneath him, her dark aureolas puffy with desire and her face helpless with need, made him the equivalent of granite, and it was all he could do to keep talking. “That morning you sucked my dick and convinced me to do your fucking laundry even though you knew you would be leaving me. Did you even go to school that day?”
She shook her head, lost in a daze of pleasure as she gasped out “No, I—I just up and left as quickly as I could … I was such a bitch … I thought it was funny back then— thought everything was funny.” She moaned with both lust and regret. “I was so silly.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. And there it was, the whole story. He had wondered about it so many times over the years, but never thought he’d get the complete and unvarnished truth from her. And now he had gotten it while they fucked each other senseless.
“We’ve got to stop,” she said. “I’m going to come again, if we keep on doing this. I can’t take another orgasm.”
He ignored her, pounded into her, punished her as best he could while desperately trying to gain his own release. “I hate you,” he heard himself saying to her on a rough chant. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
“I know, Lexie,” she said, her voice broke when she called him by his pet name and tears pooled in her eyes. “You have every right to hate me, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was messed up what I did, and I couldn’t be sorrier for hurting you.”
Then she came a third time with a silent scream.
It was the apology that broke him, the sincerity in her voice and the way she climaxed for him right after. He heard himself emit a guttural groan, like a badly wounded animal, and suddenly he was coming so hard, harder than he had ever come in his life. He could feel himself spilling into her wet passage, filling her up with his angry seed as the tension that had been building in him for eight long years finally released in wave after wave of cum.
The release was so powerful he barely had time to crawl out of her before they both fell into a sated sleep, right there on the luxurious carpet
Chapter Thirteen
EVA woke up with a startled gasp. She’d had the strangest dream, filled with sexual heat and a weird, dangerous anger. The truth was, it had turned on her on, but when she rolled over on the mattress she shared with her boyfriend, she found his side of the bed empty.
The sound of water running in the bathroom solved the mystery. He was taking a shower, a cold shower if the room, which was already sweltering hot, was any indication. Throwing off the cheap, white sheet, she sat up in front of the fan, ridiculously grateful for its pitiful breeze.
She closed her eyes. It was hard to resist the urge to lie back down, despite having gotten a full eight hours of sleep. A deep, achy fatigue tugged at her, insisting she needed even more. It must be the heat, she thought. In any case, she needed to shake it off. She was down to her last pair of underwear—really past her last pair, since she was wearing her bikini bottoms at the moment. But she had no idea where she was going to find the strength to rally and do a couple loads of laundry before school. That was one of the few things she missed about living at home. Her efficient mother had done her laundry every week, and even after she went away to college, she’d bring big bags home for her bi-weekly Drummond visit, rather than do it herself.
Suddenly she felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle, which was her body’s reaction whenever Alexei was in the vicinity. So even though she hadn’t heard him come out of the bathroom, she opened her eyes, certain he must be standing nearby.
Sure enough, her huge, Russian boyfriend stood there in a towel, watching her in a way that made her feel like a beauty queen, despite the fact that her hair was in sloppy braids and she was already covered in a layer of sweat.
“Hey,” she said, making her smile extra bright so he wouldn’t worry. Alexei felt guilty enough about the broken A.C. unit, there was no need to let him see the negative effect the heat had on her energy levels. “I didn’t hear you come out of the bathroom. For such a big guy, you move like a cat.”
“I will replace your female-sounding ‘cat’ with ‘panther’ and agree,” he said and moved to stand closer to the edge of the bed.
She grinned up at him. “Are all you Russians trained to move like panthers?”
He looked away, his bemusement replaced by a faraway look. She’d seen it often and knew from experience that he wouldn’t share what it was about. This made her wonder, not for the first time, if there was more to him than he’d told her.
When they had first begun dating, he’d provided her with a tragic but simple back-story. His mother had died in car accident when he was a young boy, and his father, a humble businessman, had died shortly after Alexei’s eighteenth birthday, leaving him just enough money to pursue a business education in the United States. “My father always wanted me to study in America, so I thought I should live this dream for him.”
According to Alexei, there hadn’t been quite enough money to pay for an MBA on top of four years of undergrad, which was why he’d been forced to take on a job at the School of Social Work and live in an efficiency apartment. He’d told her the story early in their relationship and had not elaborated on it since.
But when he got that faraway look, like something she said had triggered a memory he didn’t want to share, it made her nervous. She trusted Lexie and didn’t think he would ever lie to her, but she did wonder if maybe he had left something out. Something important. However, the times she tried to dig deeper into his past, he cut her off with short answers, followed by swift subject changes.
He also received a phone call from his uncle every couple of weeks or so, in which he’d do a lot of listening before answering with a stream of Russian before delivering a curt “do svidania” and hanging up. His only explanation: “My uncle want me come back to Russia. He worry about me so far away.”
Being a stubborn Texan, she’d kept trying to get more information about his past and his mysterious uncle, until finally he said, “Kotenok, you have two living parents, even if you are not speaking to them right now. I do not have this. It is…too hard to talk about my childhood times. Please stop asking.”
After that gentle request, she’d felt like such an ass for not considering his feelings about being an orphan that she didn’t dare broach the topic again.