I don’t know how to feel about the admission. Should I be jealous, or upset? I don’t feel either of those things. He isn’tmine, after all, and it’s touching that he’d be considerate enough not to try it when he could hurt me.
“Because you said you liked it.” Ilya laughs again, and I realize now that he’snervous. This confident, dominant Russian mobster is nervous because of… me?
I don’t know what to make of this, but it’s endearing — which is not a word I’d ever have associated with someone like him. It’s accurate, though. He’s been so sweet with me, which I know has to be a departure from his day-to-day interactions.
I like it, though.
I like how it makes me feel.
“Didyoulike it?” I ask him, my mouth feeling dry. I take another sip of water, but it doesn’t help.
Ilya nods. “It was strange. I thought I would feel violent, like my father. I thought it would remind me of…” He looks down at his hands. “But it was controlled. The man I practiced on liked what I did.”
I want to go to him, to comfort him, but I don’t know how to do that. I lick my lips, then reply, “I’ve never been to a club like that.” Adam had introduced me to BDSM, and everything I’ve learned has come from him.
“Oh.” Ilya scratches his beard. After a few more seconds of silence, he says, “I bought a flogger while I was there.”
“Oh,” I echo, feeling even more baffled. “You did that for me?”
Now I really don’t know what to make of it all.
“My friend sent me websites too.” Ilya chuckles again. “I’m learning many new words. But I would like very much to learn them with you. I don’t care what strangers like. I want to do thingsyoulike.”
I’ve never done my own research into BDSM. I’ve always trusted what Adam has told me. I wonder what Ilya’s learning that I haven’t. “I… would like that too,” I tell him, my voice sounding strangely hoarse.
I’m terrified by the fact that it’s true.
I do want to learn these things with him, with someone I know will respect me when I say I’m not in the mood or that I don’t want to try something else.
I internally wince at my thought. Adam does care. He gets overzealous, that’s all.
Ilya extends his hand out to me, and I set the glass of water on the counter before I take it and let him pull me closer. He runs a hand over my jaw and smiles, his eyes so gentle.
“I kept imagining it was you,” Ilya says. “I liked the idea of hearing your voice like that. Of watching you tremble for me.”
I want that, too.
I wrap my arms around him, pressing in close to his body. “I like you a lot,” I say softly.
It’s going to kill me to betray him.
Assuming I even get anything useful out of him any time soon. If I don’t, do I get to stay in this dream forever?
“I like you a lot too,” Ilya answers.
He kisses me, and I open my mouth for him.
Like last time, he doesn’t instantly ravage me. He takes his time, running his tongue along my lips, gently nibbling, petting my hair as our breaths mingle.
I close my eyes, enjoying the way it feels to have his fingers running through my hair.
It makes me feel cherished, and special, and wanted.
It emboldens me to run my hands down his back, and I touch him with care.
He doesn’t pull away or snap at me, and we linger there, in that kiss, for so long I forget what the world outside of us looks like.
I forget about my task, about Adam. I only have room in my thoughts for Ilya.
