And he was going to be mine. I could feel myself being drawn into a world I barely understood, one where my own lust ran out of control. Women are meant to be scared of men like Luka. I was still scared of him, on some level. And yet, at the same time, I wanted him to—
Pin me.
Tear my clothes.
Hold me down as he—
I dug my fingernails into my palms to bring myself back. I’d never felt anything like it, before, this need to let him...take me. Whenever I thought about it, I flushed red and squirmed inside, ashamed of myself. And yet whenever he touched me, whenever he even looked at me in that way, I just went weak inside.
It was getting to be about more than sex, between us. I could feel the feelings deepening and branching, spreading out to every part of me and digging in deep. I knew he trusted me now, more than he ever had his previous girlfriends. He really liked me...maybe more than liked. And that was even more dangerous than the physical side of it. I already felt as if I was being torn in two. What would happen when the time came to leave, to run out on him leaving some fake note apologizing for running away? What about when the police vans came for him a few hours or a few days later and he guessed it was me? It wasn’t the retribution I was worried about—I’d be safely back in Virginia, by then. It was the knowledge that he’d hate me for the rest of his life.
If I was smart, I’d distance myself as much as I possibly could. I’d keep the sex vanilla and try to remain passive, staring up at the ceiling and faking my orgasms. I’d remind myself of what he was and act, instead of going with my true feelings.
But I couldn’t do that. Being with Luka had woken things inside me, things that hadn’t functioned since the day of the crash. Things I thought were broken forever. I felt as if I was a statue made of ice, and he was made of flame. The closer I got, the more my frozen heart melted. But if I got too close, if I stayed too long, I’d melt completely and be lost forever.#p#分页标题#e#
Luka’s fingers began to move faster, stroking me through my panties. He’d used the slit at the side of my dress to gain access to me, pushing it up until the top of my stocking was showing and then sliding his arm over my thigh and between my legs. I could feel his dinner jacket and the cold silver of his cufflink against my inner thigh. As he stroked faster, I began to writhe on the padded seat, my ass tensing. “Stop!” I whispered. “Someone will see!”
I glanced around. The audience below us couldn’t see us, but there were other boxes to our left and right. My lower body was hidden by the wall that ran around the edge of the box, but I was exposed from the waist up. Every expression, every soft sigh was public.
Luka glanced at me with a look that I was getting to know well. A challenging look, one that meant say ‘stop’ again if you really mean it....but you don’t, do you? And I did the same thing I always did, faced with that look. I turned to warm taffy and then liquid inside and dropped my eyes.
He gave me one of his smirks and began to rub faster. I could feel my panties growing sticky and then wet. I couldn’t help myself. I began to circle my hips, grinding my pelvis to meet him. I bit my lower lip and tried to focus on the ballet, determined to maintain control. I couldn’t...not here!
His fingers slid around the edge of my panties and touched naked, slippery flesh and I knew I was lost. I tried to sit bolt upright, eyes glued to the dancers. Watching as their partners lifted them high in the air and then dropped them down—
Deep—
I gripped the arms of my seat and stared as the dancers pranced and spun across the stage—
Back and forth—
Mouth firmly closed, I panted through my nose as they—
Circled. Pirouetting around and around. Faster and faster and—
I felt my eyes widen as the orgasm thundered through me. My ass lifted off the seat and then pressed back into it, hard. My legs trembled, my heels hammering on the floor. In the box next to me, a man turned and frowned at me.
...and I went still.
“Almost silent,” Luka whispered in my ear. “I’ll have to try harder, next time.”
On the way back to the apartment, I sat nestled against Luka’s side, my head on his shoulder. Being in a car, especially with the freezing weather outside, still unnerved me. But it no longer triggered me as it had done before I’d come to Moscow. There were no flashbacks. Maybe I’m cured.
I dared to hope.
We were most of the way home when Luka’s cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and then turned from me slightly, maybe unconsciously, and spoke in a low voice I could only just hear. He didn’t know that I could understand Russian, so why was he going to such lengths?