I glance down at him to see his dark eyes fixed on my face, as though expecting some kind of signal. I know I should tell him to stop. But I can’t bring myself to do that.
“Please… more,” I manage to squeak out.
That is all he needs to hear before tearing my panties down my legs and spreading my thighs apart. I am panting with need when he does the unthinkable: he presses his tongue against my warm, wet folds, sending a shockwave of pleasure through my body. My hips jut forward instinctively, my body shuddering as he relentlessly sucks and licks between my legs.
A half-strangled cry bursts from my throat as I feel the tension mounting deep inside me. Tears moisten my eyes and my hands grapple to brace myself against the window. Somewhere, distantly, in the back of my mind, a voice is screaming at me that my naked body is pressed up against a window for all the residents of New York City to see, reminding me that I should feel ashamed of the position I’m currently in. But that voice is drowned out by the overwhelming, pounding rhythm of my heartbeat and the involuntary rolling of my hips against Andrei’s glorious, warm mouth.
Until I suddenly remember that this, all of this, is a horrible sin. My ingrained shame comes barreling out of the darkness to hit me so hard I see stars, my body drawing back instinctively. I can’t allow myself to enjoy something like this! It’s obscene! It’s unholy!
I open my mouth to beg Andrei to stop, but before I get the chance, he senses me pulling away and wraps his arms around my legs to drag me back, a little too forcefully. He groans into my pulsing, slick flower with a wild hunger, plunging his tongue inside me and suckling that tight, mind-numbing little bud of nerves until I feel myself getting closer and closer to…
“Ohh! Andrei!” I cry out as a powerful wave of ecstasy rushes through me, radiating ripples of pleasure outward from between my legs. I shudder and my knees buckle, my body going limp from the overwhelming sensation, but Andrei grabs me and holds me up in place, refusing to release me. His mouth devours me ravenously, mercilessly, licking up the flow of honey with abandon. The overstimulation is enough to make me feel dizzy, like I might faint any moment. It feels so good, even though his relentless manipulations linger on the verge of painful.
To my surprise, another climax crashes through me and this time I can’t stop myself from squealing and collapsing into Andrei’s waiting arms, utterly exhausted. He carries me easily, as though I’m nothing but a bouquet of flowers in his arms. Through my spinning, hazy vision I can see us walking through a door into the bedroom. Andrei cradles me gently onto the bed, my tired limbs sinking thankfully into the plush sheets.
The last thing I remember is the feeling of his lips gently kissing my forehead and his soft, low growl: “Welcome home.”
7
Andrei
I smooth her hair as I watch her start to drift off to sleep, and I lie there beside her for a while, watching her practically glow. I watch her chest rise and fall, and within a few minutes, the rhythm becomes slow, steady, and peaceful, the bliss of her first time written on her smiling face as she snuggles into the blankets.
Quietly, I roll out of bed and make my way out of the bedroom, careful not to wake Cassie as I creep to the walk-in closet adjacent to the master bedroom. As satisfying as this night has been, it is not yet over with.
I have a job tonight, and specifically, a ballet to attend.
I have my suit for tonight pressed and hanging in plain sight in the closet, along with a pair of shoes and white gloves. All nice, but not too nice — certainly nothing I’d wear out to a public appearance, but tonight is a special circumstance. I slip the whole outfit on in a matter of seconds, quiet as a shadow. I’ve become skilled at changing my clothes quickly and quietly. Jeans and a leather jacket might be my usual duds, but they won’t get me into a high-class performance in Manhattan.
Before I leave, I stick my head into the room to look at Cassie one more time. She’s laying on her side now, curling up around one of the pillows on the bed, a smile still written across her face. I see my shadow cast over her from the faint light behind me, and before long, I close the door and step away.
On my way out, I grab a small briefcase containing my only two tools for the evening: a thin metal wire and a valuable bottle of Pétrus wine, straight from Bordeaux.
A few moments later, I’m out the back door and pulling out of the driveway, silent as night. My car makes its way through the inky-black streets of NYC towards Manhattan.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have agreed to take any work on my wedding night, impromptu as this one was, but the hit that I’m to execute tonight is something of a personal matter.