I didn’t often avoid her, but when I thought of my reaction earlier, the way I had felt when I saw Sergei’s arm around her waist, I decided space was in order. I had done well over the years, not allowing my mind to go there, rarely allowing myself to think about her as anything other than a distraction, someone I had decided to provide safety and material comfort for but nothing more.
Seeing Sergei’s arm around her, though, the easy, warm familiarity between them, coupled with our earlier conversation about how they were “friends,” had me on edge, and me being on edge was something I needed to get under control before I dealt with anyone, especially Senna.
When I finally went upstairs, I went into the kitchen and saw the plate she had left for me. I ate my dinner quickly, telling myself the whole time that I didn’t care, that this little gesture didn’t mean anything to me. Preparing food for me was the least she could do. It said nothing about how she may have felt for me.
All of that was true, perhaps, but the gesture, even after all these years, still got to me despite the distance I tried to keep.
I cultivated relationships that were based on transactional exchanges. The Syndicate provided product, protection, and clean money; we got paid for our services. Care certainly never came into it. But Senna was in many ways an exception, completely unique in my life, so that small gesture, even after I had been so dismissive and rude, meant something to me.
I should thank her.
After I dropped my fork, I stood and went into her room. I would usually find her sitting in a chair reading a book, maybe watching television, but she was nowhere to be seen.
I heard the shower turn on and followed the sound, knowing with each step I should have stopped. I didn’t, though, and instead looked through the partially open door. My gaze was riveted to the glass enclosure, the warm water steaming the glass but not enough to completely shroud her body. In fact, the water, the steam, only emphasized her shape, her beautiful dark skin that covered it.
I should’ve looked away, but instead I drank her in greedily, taking in the soft roundness of her shoulders, the fullness of her breasts, down over her hips and soft thighs. Followed her hand as she buried it between those soft thighs.
My cock was steel-hard and ready in an instant, the reaction not one I had expected. I’d never expected to see Senna doing this, never expected to want to join her so badly, replace her hand with my own.
But I couldn’t do that, so I stood there, rooted to the spot, the throbbing hardness in my pants, the way my gaze was riveted to watching her hand as it moved, making it impossible for me to leave, my resolve to not touch her making it impossible for me to go to her.
My cock throbbed, demanding relief, but I ignored it, and instead watched her hands, one anchored between her legs, the other tugging at her dark nipple. Listened to the sound of her voice, the low moans that she tried to bite back, fighting with the desire to hear that sound loud, free, unrestrained.
“Maxim…”
Her voice was low, barely audible, but I recognized the word, recognized the passion with which it was said.
It had been years since I’d heard my name fall from a woman’s lips on a breath of passion, the effort of finding someone to fuck not worth the fleeting physical relief, which was all it ever was since I never found true satisfaction. On those occasions when I had taken a woman to my bed, any sounds I might have heard were probably false or an attempt to gain some favor.
The sound Senna made, though, was different.
It was truthful, not a lie.
Senna was bringing herself pleasure, thinking of me as she did so. Disbelief shifted to desire in less than one heartbeat, leaving me struggling to process what I’d heard, how much I wanted to touch her. My body had no such trouble. It was primed, ready for her, and it was only as I took my first step that I realized I was moving toward her.
I stopped. Doing so required everything I had, but I managed to stay in place, my mind still warring with my body.
It was only when I heard the water turn off that I was able to make myself leave.
* * *
Senna
I dried myself quickly and made my way out of the bathroom, embarrassment burning beneath my skin, but nothing in the face of the satisfaction I felt.
This had been my dirty little secret for years, my way of relieving myself when the loneliness got to be too much. No matter what, anytime I touched myself, I wished my hands were his, and when I climaxed, my only thought was of him.
I reached the bathroom door and paused as I noticed it was open.
I was certain I had closed it.
Oh God. Had someone been in here? Adrian wouldn’t come up here, which left only Maxim. The mortifying thought of him having seen me, heard me, made me pause for a moment, but I dismissed the thought, tried to dismiss the horror that came over me.