My reflection is flushed, lips almost bruised a dark pink from the blood that rushed to them as he kissed me. I shove my pants down and yank my sweater and bra off and turn on the water of the shower to let it warm up, but my fingers find the place I ache and start rubbing.
It's nothing like him and the way he feels, and I can't speak to myself the way he speaks to me, but I can imagine…
I pictureFyodor staying right there behind me, dropping to his knees and sliding my panties aside so he can press his mouth to me. His tongue is hot and flat against my clit from the start, licking slowly through my folds while he groans because he loves how wet I am for him.
He tells me my pussy tastes so good it makes him crazy, then sucks my clit between his lips and flicks it with his tongue until my hips rock forward and my legs start to shake. He holds me steady with his hands on my ass, pulling me back onto his face so I grind against him and feel his nose nudge my clit every time he thrusts his tongue inside me.
My fingers circle faster through the slickness he left behind, but it's his tongue I feel in my head, sucking harder as he slides two fingers into me and pumps them deep, curling them to hit that spot that makes everything tighten. I imagine him pulling backto spit on my clit, watching it drip, licking it up with sloppy strokes before he thrusts his fingers into me harder.
I slide two fingers inside myself, thrusting deep and curling them while my other hand stays firm on my clit. In my mind he finger fucks me but his mouth never leaves my clit, sucking and flicking until I'm dripping down his arm.
Then he turns me around and lifts me onto the counter, hooking my legs over his shoulders. God he'd say such nasty things to me and make me say things back to him as he fucked me. And my god do I want him to do that.
The pressure builds quickly in my core as I continue pleasuring myself while imagining him doing all manner of erotic things to me and when the orgasm hits it's exquisite, though nowhere near what I know he could do to me.
My body jolts and twitches, and I try but fail to see myself in the steamed mirror. I'm giddy, jerking and grunting under my breath as the waves wash over me and my juices coat my thighs. Even without his physical presence he has a way of making my body feel incredible, and though I'd never tell him I did this, it doesn't stop me from enjoying it.
I slide my hand free and rinse it in the flow of water still spraying from the shower head, then step under the stream and let the heat relax the last of the tension from my body.
Fyodor has some sort of power over me, but I know somehow, it's the same for him. I make him come unhinged somehow, and I like that feeling. If only I could convince him to let me have my normal life and not one tethered to him at all times, we'd get along much better.
But would he be as alluring to me as he is right now if he did let me go back to teaching Sasha in my classroom? Or would the magic fade the moment he no longer had me like a caged bird?
I don't even know anymore.
15
FYODOR
Sasha has his face pressed so close to the glass that his breath keeps fogging it up, and every few seconds, he wipes it away with his sleeve and leans right back in to stare at the eggs. The Fabergé collection sits under soft lighting, all that gold and enamel and tiny gemstones catching the glow, and I watch Noemi admiring them with an expression I haven't seen on her face before.
She's gorgeous when she's angry, but she is absolutely radiant when she's at peace, and I find myself staring at her.
"They're so small," Sasha says. "I thought they'd be bigger."
"They were made for the Tzarina." Noemi crouches down next to him and points at the nearest egg, hovering her finger close to the glass. "See all those tiny flowers and leaves in the enamel? And look, there's a little surprise hidden inside."
I hang back with my hands in my pockets and let them have this. The museum's quiet, only a few tourists wandering through the galleries, and a guard stands near the entrance looking bored out of his mind. I do a sweep myself, because I'm waiting forsomeone, and then I turn my attention back to my son and the woman I can't seem to get out of my head no matter how hard I try.
"Mamochkawould have loved these." Sasha sounds sad now, and that tugs at my heart awkwardly. "She had pictures of them in a book, and she used to show me and tell me all the stories."
Noemi's hand finds his shoulder and squeezes, and I feel slightly jealous of that connection she has and how easy it is for her. She knows how to comfort him and I haven't quite figured that out yet. Maybe it's because we had a rough start, or maybe she's just better at it because she's a woman, but I'm determined to understand and do better.
After admiring the eggs for several more long minutes, we walk through the gallery and into the hall with the carriages, these massive, gilded things with wheels taller than Sasha, and velvet seats roped off behind thick cords. He runs ahead to peek through the windows of a black coach, pressing his hands against the glass even though there are signs telling him not to.
He's enjoying himself and doing no harm other than leaving fingerprints, but it makes me tense. When Noemi falls into step beside me, I feel more at ease. She sees what I see but she's not moved. Maybe I’m too uptight.
"Are you enjoying this?" I ask at almost a whisper. When I requested that she come along, it was for a purpose. I'm meeting with Rurik shortly, though she doesn't know that, and I will need someone to keep a close eye on Sasha. Leaving them sitting in the hotel while I am out just didn’t seem like the right thing. This is better for both of them, and better yet that she believes I personally wanted her to be here.
Besides, I'm starting to enjoy her company too.
She glances over at me, and there's something warmer in her face than I've seen in days.
"I am. Thank you for bringing us."
"Sasha needed to experience something good." I pause, not sure if I should say the next part, and then I say it anyway. "And so did you."
Color rises in her cheeks and she looks away, but not before I catch the small smile pulling at her mouth. Funny how that tiny smile can make my heart thud against my ribs as hard as it does when I’m in a dangerous situation. Yet another reason this captive teacher of mine is a risk I'm taking. She's getting tangled up in my nervous system too quickly.
