Alexei sits on the end of the bed.
“Don’t sit down. We must ready ourselves to go to church.”
“No. That wasn’t a sincere invitation. Stroviak felt obligated to invite us. He doesn’t really want us to come. America’s not like Russia. People have more boundaries. The ceremony was just going to be attended by a few of them. It’s more polite to skip the wedding and go to the party afterward with the others who are not part of Stroviak’s core group.”
“What?” I scoff, thinking again that Americans are crazy. In Russia, it would be the worst insult to get an invitation like this and not go. “We will go, Alexei. Of course.” Digging through a bag of things, I find lingerie that I think will work under the sexy dress he bought. “My God, I don’t have shoes to go with a pretty dress.” I swear in Russian and shake my head. “All right. I will ask other girls if I can borrow. Someone must have size that’s close enough.”
I change in the bathroom and raise a brow at the dress’s plunging front that goes to my belly. Even while standing still, the lace of the bra shows. If I move at all, too much will show. I remove the bra, but then the sides of my breasts show. If I move, it’s no good. One will slide right out.
“Alexei, I need tape!” I call.
“Tape?”
He opens the door and looks in. I twist and show him how my breast almost shimmies out from under the beautiful brocade fabric. His attention is trained on my chest, and his big hand slides under the pink and gold brocade to cup my breast. It sends a shiver through me, and also a shock.
“I—”
His hand strains the material as he fondles me. He finds my nipple, catching it between his index and middle fingers. Warmth spreads through my body, making me squeeze my thighs together.
“Careful,” I whisper, pushing his hand down against me. “You’re strong. You’ll tear the dress.” My fingers try to close around his wrist, but it’s too big. Still, I take a firm grip of his arm and try to pull his hand out.
Hunger burns in his eyes, and his breath is ragged. His free hand takes a handful of my hair and pulls my head back. He kisses my mouth, and his tongue is so warm and tasty I lose my breath.
He removes his left hand, but then uses it to get under my dress. Strong fingers caress me through my panties. It feels so delicious I forget myself and lean forward, kissing him harder. A finger pushes the fabric aside, and he’s right there where I ache to have him. He strokes me, and I moan against his mouth. I want to straddle his hand and rub against it, but it’s not possible while standing up. Then a finger pushes against the opening, and I feel a pinch of pain.
My head jerks back with a gasp, and I grab his arm. “No, my darling. You’ll break my virginity.” The words spill out in Russian, of course, because I’m emotional and can’t think.
His dark gaze stays focused on my lips, and his finger teases the small opening, probing.
My teeth sink into my lower lip, and I groan. “Not yet. What if I bleed and ruin my dress?”
He withdraws his hand very slowly and, while watching me, sucks his fingertip. My heart thuds, and my pussy weeps that he didn’t just push his big fingers inside.
I’m a bad girl, and he’s a bad man, probably worse than I know.
And maybe I’m a little bit glad about that.
So foolish of me.
* * *
Alexei
Natalia convinces me to take her to the ceremony. At the moment, she could convince me to drive a motorcycle into hell.
My cock is ragingly hard, and she smells so good it’s making the hard-on worse. If I’d stayed in the room, I could’ve had sex with her before the reception. Instead, my arm is around her shoulders, keeping her pressed to my side as we sit in the dusky chapel.
Stroviak’s tiny, exquisite wife wears a platinum and black lace gown. She’s noticeably pregnant. We’ve learned they’re already married, and this is a renewal of vows on their anniversary. There are only a couple dozen people in the small candlelit space, which makes it feel all the more intimate. The old chapel has gothic windows and dark pews, which suits the mood. If I believed in ghosts, this is where they would hang out.
Only one couple stands up with them. It’s the leader of C Crue, Connor McCann, and his woman. The very high cream lace heels Natalia wears are borrowed from McCann’s girlfriend. The little daughter climbs down from the front bench seat with a book and slips past the older couple who are supposed to be watching her. She goes to stand next to Stroviak, leaning against his calf. He glances down and then puts out a hand to ward off the adult hands that reach out to retrieve her. Instead, she’s allowed to stay with him. She studies the pages of her book and whispers the story to herself while leaning against her father like he’s a tree.
When the vows are exchanged and the kiss is done, the bride bends low to kiss the little girl’s head. The child looks up and kisses her mother, but doesn’t go to her. Instead she steps with both feet onto one of Stroviak’s, the way she did with mine. In one motion, he flexes his hip and knee to raise her at the same time his hands reach down to pick her up. His leg is an elevator for her.
Scott Patrick, Trick, sits at the end of the front row. Next to him is another stunning woman who also seems to be pregnant. When the chapel door opens, light pours in, along with the sounds of a screaming infant. Both Trick and his wife look toward the back. He starts to rise, but she puts a hand on his arm, gives him a quick kiss and gets up instead. She heads quickly down the aisle.
Trick stands too and rolls his eyes as he gives Stroviak’s bride a hug and says, “Let’s trade kids for the day.”
“If you think you can peel Sasha’s little shadow off him, have at it,” she says with a low laugh.
