I focus my tongue on her clit, licking her until her back bows off the bed and she’s crying out my name. The sound is music to my ears.
I can sense the impending orgasm. And when it hits, I know she’s experiencing pleasure that she probably never thought she would. Her entire body begins to tremble as her mouth opens on a scream. I don’t dare stop. If anything, my tongue speeds up and my fingers go a little deeper, drawing out her orgasm. Her clit throbs against my mouth as she gasps and calls out my name one final time.
And just when I think she’s going to go insane with the amount of pleasure I’m giving her, she suddenly goes limp in my arms.
What the fuck?
I gently lower her legs down to the bed and stand over her.Savina passed out.I don’t know whether to be proud or worried. I lean over her, making sure she’s breathing and that she’s okay, and everything seems to check out.
Satisfied that she’s alive but just sleeping from clearly having a sensory overload, I tuck her in, drawing up the blankets and watching her for several minutes. Fuck, she looks so damn beautiful and peaceful.
When I turn to leave, I spot the unfinished vanity in the corner of the room. Savina didn’t get very far with her little project; only managing to put together one of the tiny drawers. Sighing, I walk over to it and grab the instructions off the dresser.
While Savina sleeps, I carefully put the vanity together. It’s a pain in the ass, but at least she won’t have to do it herself. I know it was frustrating the hell out of her anyway.
Once I’m finished, I neatly put away all of her makeup and brushes that she has piled on top of a nearby box, putting them in order by brand name, size and color. I step back and admire my work, feeling oddly satisfied that I completed the task and that I helped Savina. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Sure, I help my father with his business all the time, but it usually ends up with someone dying. This was rewarding in a totally different way. Just thinking about how excited she’ll be when she wakes up and sees the vanity that I put together for her has my chest aching with emotions that really shouldn’t be there. I press my hand against the ache, willing it away.
Taking one last, long look at Savina sleeping peacefully in her bed, I leave her room and close the door, forcing myself to leave all of these new feelings I’m having behind. I can’t get attached to her. Because if I do, it will truly kill me in the end when I have to give her away to my brother.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Savina
IT’S EARLYON a Saturday morning when my stepmother decides to take Darby and I wedding dress shopping. Honestly, I haven’t even thought about what kind of dress I would want to wear on the day I’ve been dreading for ten years. I’ve been too miserable thinking about all the other details that deciding what to wear apparently slipped my mind.
A car picks up Darby and I from our apartment, and we meet Cosette at a boutique downtown. The bell above the door chimes delicately as we enter. The air inside is sweet with the scent of lavender and starch, and every surface seems to gleam in soft whites and pastels. There are tons of dresses on display throughout the store; all in various styles, lengths, and colors.
“Savina!” Cosette calls from behind a curtain.
We go to the large dressing room area at the back of the store. There are several changing areas, and a large platform stage in thecenter of the room. Numerous mirrors surround the stage, and I almost groan out loud. I hate being put on display like this, but I guess it’s all part of the experience, or so I’ve been told.
When we walk in, I see Cosette downing a glass of champagne, which no doubt is complimentary, and I grimace when I think about how many bottles they’re going to go through while she’s here. She waves her hand in the air and slowly stands up, almost falling back down in her seat, but quickly righting herself at the last second.
“This is the bride,” Cosette tells one of the attendants as she points her long, manicured nail at me. “And this is her maid of honor,” she says, flicking her middle fingernail nonchalantly at Darby.
“Did she just,” Darby starts, but I quickly wave a hand in her face, distracting her. I don’t need them both getting their claws out this early on. We’ll never survive the day if that happens, and I desperately need to get through today with my stepmother.
“I’m Savina. And this is my maid of honor, Darby,” I say in a quick introduction to the team.
“Excellent,” the attendant says with a big smile. She’s young with blonde hair and pretty, blue eyes. “I’m Ava, and this is Evelyn,” she says pointing to the petite, brown-haired girl standing beside her.
“Nice to meet you,” I say with a smile of my own. I’m going to try to be as nice as possible to the staff even though deep down I’m miserable and that this isliterallythe last place on earth I want to be right now. It’s not their fault; however, so I’ll try not to let my mood filter out into my attitude.
“Let’s get started,” Ava chirps happily before Evelyn leads Darby to another part of the store to look at maid of honor dresses. “Your mother already chose several options that she thought you would like,” Ava starts, but I cut her off.
“Stepmother,” I whisper.
“Oh, stepmother,” Ava corrects herself before giving me a knowing look that speaks volumes. I’m sure Cosette has been driving her up the wall all morning. “Ah yes,” she says, sorting through thedresses hanging on a nearby rack. “Let’s start with this A-line dress from Vera Wang.”
After I change out of my clothes, Ava helps me into the expensive gown. “It’s a little tight,” I mutter, struggling to breathe as Ava tries to zip me up but fails miserably.
“Maybe your stepmother told me the wrong size,” she explains.
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure she told you a size smaller so that she could gripe about my weight,” I confess. Cosette has been constantly on me about my weight since I was a child. It’s definitely given me a complex; and leave it to her to try to screw with my head today by telling the attendant the wrong gown size. “I’m a size six,” I tell her.
“This is a four.”
“Of course it is,” I grumble.
