Sasha popped a grape in her mouth. "Uh, huh. Sasha is a nickname, though my mother prefers to use my full name. My dad always calls me Sasha, though, says that Aleksandra sounds like a grouchy old Russian lady. It's just one of the many things the two of them disagree on."
"Are you ever tempted?" asked Matthew. "I mean, to take your mother up on her offer and go back to dancing? She's right, you know, that you'd be great on that show."
She didn't even attempt to suppress a shudder. "God, no. I mean, I do miss dancing. That was never the issue. It's the competing, and the performing that I hate. Can you even imagine me with false eyelashes, a spray tan, and an itty bitty costume covered in sequins? That's what I used to have to do when I competed, even at the age of eleven. My mother would insist that all my curls ruined the image, so I either had to spend over an hour flat ironing my hair or wear a wig."
He rumpled her curls affectionately. "I love your hair just the way it is," he assured her. "I think one day I counted six different shades of blonde and light brown. I like that everything about you is natural, Sasha - your hair, your body, you. So don't ever feel the need to be something you aren't, or change who you are to please someone else. Because you please me very, very well, and I would never ask you to change."
She set the bowl of fruit down on the nightstand, then placed her hands on either side of his face before giving him a quick kiss. "Thank you," she whispered. "I know I'm nothing like most of the people you interact with on a regular basis - your employees and clients and friends - and sometimes I can't help but think that being with me is just something of a novelty for you."
"God, no," he assured her fervently. "Being you with is the only thing that keeps me sane some days. And listening to your story - how you found the courage to stand up to your mother and chose to live your life your way - well, I can't tell you how proud that makes me feel. Proud and more than a little envious at the same time."
She looked at him quizzically. "Envious? Of me? Might I remind you that you're the billionaire CEO while I teach yoga and do massage?"
"Money isn't everything," replied Matthew quietly. "And like the saying goes, it sure as hell doesn't buy happiness. I'm envious because it's very obvious that you love what you do, Sasha. I'm not sure I've ever met anyone who's as content and at peace with their life as you are. And I would give up almost everything I owned to know that same sort of serenity. If it was up to me, I'd quit my job, sell the company, buy a sailboat, and travel around the world for a couple of years."
Sasha opened the wrapper of the protein bar he'd brought in for her and took a bite. "So what's to keep you from doing exactly that?" she asked matter-of-factly. "Oh, I realize it wouldn't be quite that easy, and that it wouldn't happen overnight. But you should be able to do exactly what you want with your life, Matthew, provided that you do it responsibly. Like making sure your employees are taken care of, and that your relationship with your children remains stable. Otherwise, if what you're doing doesn't make you happy, then you should stop doing it."
He tumbled her back onto the pillows, causing her to emit a little squeal of surprise. "I'll tell you what does make me happy," he told her ardently. "You. You make me happy, Sasha. Being with you this last month has made me happier than I've felt in a very long time."
"Matthew, I … "
Whatever she might have been about to say next was cut off by the hungry, demanding pressure of his lips on hers, his tongue taking possession of her mouth. He was fully aroused within seconds, as he usually was when she was close by, and the feel of her small, perfect breasts pressing against his bare chest only increased his need for her. Roughly, he palmed one firm mound, his fingers teasing the nipple until she was groaning beneath his kiss. He slid further down her body until his mouth was at the same level as her breasts, and he could run his tongue over her taut, dark red nipples. At the same time one of his hands delved between her thighs, where she was already wet and squirming impatiently for his touch.
"Do we - do we have enough time for this?" he murmured in concern, even as he thrust two fingers inside her tight pussy, his thumb whisking over her clit.
Sasha gasped, her pelvis arching up from the mattress as she simultaneously reached for his cock. "We'll always have enough time for this," she whispered, as she took him inside of her.
He had stopped using condoms a couple of weeks ago, after he'd learned she got Depo-Provera shots every three months, and after both of them had tested negative for any and all sorts of communicable disease. The first time he'd fucked her bare he had almost come on the spot, it had felt that incredible. Fortunately, with Sasha's guidance these past few weeks, he had learned to control himself and prolong their lovemaking, and not worry about climaxing too soon. Having regular sex had also helped in that regard, and he knew he'd never been so physically satisfied in his life. Given, however, that the bulk of his sexual experiences had been with Lindsey - who had always been focused on her own pleasure and had rarely bothered tending to his needs - it wasn't at all surprising that having someone as giving and unselfish as Sasha for his lover had changed all of that.