When I grab a round, dark chocolate truffle, I turn and risk a glance at Dimitri. He’s leaning against the wall, his chest moving up and down rapidly with ragged breaths as he glares at me with what can only be described as contempt and…maybe desire.
And then to push him even further, I wrap my lips around the truffle, bite down, closing my eyes and moaning around the chocolate ball as I eat it slowly, seductively. God, anyone watching me right now might think I’mreallyinto desserts.
When I finish the truffle, I open my eyes to find him again, but Dimitri is gone. Glancing around the room, I don’t even see him.
Good.
Rolling my eyes with a smile of satisfaction on my face, I go to the large table in the center of the room and sit in the seat next to Pavel. The chair to my left is empty, and I have no idea who is going to be sitting there. Hopefully someone who isn’t dreadfully boring; because, let’s face it, Pavel can’t even carry on a conversation with me without letting it die in the first few minutes. We simply have nothing in common. That much was crystal freaking clear after our first date. In fact, I’m not even sure that helikesme. He’s just…indifferent, and I simply can’t get a read on him.
“Have you tried any of the desserts?” I lean over and ask Pavel in the hopes of letting our conversation blossom into something more advantageous.
“No,” he says quietly. “I’m not really into sweets,” he confesses with a frown.
“Oh,” I respond solemnly.
And then Pavel turns his back on me to speak with his bodyguard, Leo, who is seated on the other side of him. Well,then, that was…fun. I can just imagine our life together. Plain. Boring. About as exciting as watching paint dry on the walls.
I put my face in my hands, wanting to bang my head on the table just to get some excitement, and then almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. I thought the contract changing for me to marry Pavel was like winning the lottery or receiving a get out of jail free card. It would be so much easier than being married to the devil personified.Or so I thought.But the more I think about it, the more I’m now unsure about all of this. At least with Dimitri, my life would be exciting. We definitely have chemistry. And my cheeks heat at just the thought of how our wedding night would be. Hot and full of passion, no doubt.
I feel nothing like that with Pavel. But perhaps that will change over time.Or maybe it won’t, and we’ll be in the friends zone with one another for the rest of our lives,a nagging voice in the back of my mind says.
I’m wallowing in self-pity and a glass of red wine when Dimitri takes a seat beside me. Great, sothisis where he’s sitting. Well, this should be interesting. On the bright side, at least I won’t be bored to tears. If Dimitri is anything, he’s definitely not boring.
I was beginning to wonder where he disappeared off to after I teased him. I still can’t believe I did that. There’s just something about him that makes me act irrationally. I want to push all of his buttons just like he did with me years ago back in high school.
Turning to Dimitri, I whisper to him with a knowing smirk, “I guess you didn’t enjoy my little show.” His features are solid, stone-cold, not giving anything away. “Couldn’t handle it?” I egg him on while raising the wine glass to my mouth and taking another sip.
“Oh, I could handle it,” he tells me. “In fact, I handled it in the bathroom, thinking about you bent over that dessert table and pushing my cock into your tight, wet cunt, until I came all over your stepmother’s clean, porcelain sink.”
I choke on my wine, sputtering and coughing. Dimitri has never talked to me like this before. I startle when I feel his hand wraparound my bare thigh, my knee simultaneously drawing up and knocking against the hard, unforgiving table. The numerous wine and water glasses scattered across the top rattle loudly, drawing the attention of my father…and all the other people now gathered around the table.
“Everything all right, Savina?” my father asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Yeah,” I manage to say. Then, I clear my throat and force out, “Yes, everything’s fine.”
When my father’s attention is drawn away by someone else, I turn and glower at Dimitri. “What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss under my breath.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he says before his fingers languidly trail up my thigh and under the hem of my dress. He leans over closer until I can smell the woodsy scent of his cologne mixed with a soft hint of tobacco and whiskey. “You started this game,” he warns against the shell of my ear. “I’m simply finishing it.”
When his fingers reach the apex of my thighs, feeling the material of my thong, I think that he’ll finally stop. He found out the answer to his question earlier about whether I was wearing panties or not. His stupid game will end now. But when his hand possessively cups my pussy, I realize that he’s just getting started. And what a dangerous game this is turning into.
I gasp in surprise and then try to cover it up with a cough. I glance around the table, thinking everyone will know what we’re doing, but they seem too engrossed in conversation. Meanwhile, I’m over here with my fiancé’sbrotherpractically fingering me under the table.
This is so wrong. I tell myself to stop all of this. To get up and walk away.
But I stay rooted in my seat, unable to force myself to stop this risky game that can only end badly. Part of me wants to see how far he’ll actually take it. And another, bigger part of me wants him to want me, just like I’ve secretly and shamefully wanted him all these years. God,the amount of times I’ve written down forbidden fantasies about Dimitri Sokolov in my journal are downright shameful. Even though I hated him and probably always will hate him, he still manages to turn me on. Maybe I’m just one of those girls who like villains, just like in Darby’s books.
Dimitri slowly parts my lips and presses the pad of his finger against me, applying just enough pressure to my clit through the material of my thong to drive me up the wall.
I lean closer to him, hoping that to any outsider watching they would just think we’re having a private conversation at the table. “You can’t do this here,” I whisper to him.
“You know I hate when people tell me what I can and can’t do. It just makes me want to do it evenharder,” he says, emphasizing the last word as he presses his fingers firmly against my clit.
My fingernails find his forearm under the linen tablecloth, and I dig into his skin, but it does little to deter his ministrations. In fact, I think it just encourages him.
I feel helpless, unable to stop this…or maybe more likeunwillingto stop this. I mean, there is a way to end all of this. I could stand up and shout at him or push him away, but that would draw the attention of everyone in the room, embarrassing not only Dimitri and myself but also Pavel.
Besides, what would our fathers say if they found out we were fooling around? I can’t even think about my father’s disappointment and humiliation. He would probably keep me locked in my room until the day of the wedding. I would definitely have to say bye-bye to the apartment idea.
