Unless I could get Ivan to fuck up…the thought came to me unbidden, and I filed it away, wanting to focus on her. We only had several minutes left.
“Shut up,” she whispered, kissing me harshly, her hands making their way to my zipper and pulling it down. “Don’t make promises. Don’t tell me lies, even if they’re beautiful ones. Just be with me right here and now in this moment. Make the darkness go away for a few moments, please.” She sat up, reaching into my pants to pull my hardness out and I hissed as she tightened her grip around me before lifting herself up and slowly lowering herself back down on to me.
I groaned as her pussy wrapped itself around my length, my hands moving to her ass automatically. Her body clung to me, tight and wet and hot, and it was like having sex for the first time all over again. Every thrust of her hips sunk me deeper inside her, every rock of her body had me starving for more. Her head was to one side, her gaze on mine as I let her fuck me. I felt her pulsing around me, her mouth open in a silent moan, every muscle contracting around my cock as she moved faster on me, desperate for the friction, desperate for the bittersweet end. For that promised high, the climax where she could tumble over to the other side with me.
Once again, we had to rush when all I wanted to do was take my time and relish every fucking inch of her perfect body.
I gritted my teeth and gripped her hips, pushing her harder on to me until every thrust was violent, every roll of her hips was sweet desperation, every squeeze of her pussy around me was torture. And then we were coming together in a perfect storm of heat and groans and passion, our bodies slapping together in harmony as I buried my face in her breasts panting.
A weight hit my chest as the throes of orgasm faded away. It was the heavy burden of a man who’d found his perfect mate but couldn’t have her. And I hated myself in that moment for not being able to have this beautiful woman for my own.
Chapter Sixteen
Marisha
Alexander left first this time, and I hated watching him go. More so than our other secret rendezvous, these precious moments together had been fleeting in this garden, surrounded by contained wildness.
Contained wildness. That’s what he and I were.
Wildly captured seconds of passion, that left me aching for more, but the minutes together still had to be cautious, they still had to be armed against those who would take our realness and distort it. Pollute it. Kill it. Alexander was quickly becoming my sanctuary, just as these glass and steel buildings kept these exotic plants safe.
My intimate parts throbbed, and wetness traced down my inner thigh. I pulled a moist towelette from my small red handbag and cleaned myself, a thrill tracing through me as I stroked against my clit. My body wasn’t finished. Alexander had proven that there was more pleasure to be had than a single orgasm.
I could tell how his body longed for mine. I could tell how it hurt him to kiss me deeply before turning away and purposefully walking towards the braided rope separator in the distance.
Harder still knowing what he was about to do. I knew enough about this life now to know that when a Bratva man was called to business like that that he was going off and likely about to kill someone. Maybe even several someone’s. I hated that this was his life, and then I hated myself for hating it, because he loved it. That much was obvious. He loved his life, his family, his power, and I realized that I loved him.
I stayed behind, sitting on the bench and staring at the tropical flowers. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t satisfied. Each time I heard movement in the distance, I hoped it was Alexander coming back to me, ready to pick up where we’d left off. Ready to further sate our bodies of their carnal longings. Ivan could never make me come; he had no idea how to work my body into the sort of frenzy that caused wave after wave of euphoric release to shake me and leave me panting and desperate for more. More so he didn’t care to learn either.
“Miss,” a voice called out to me and I blinked, looking up to find a young man in a forest green shirt with a Brooklyn Botanical Gardens emblem stitched across the pocket. “This area is off limits. I’m sorry to make you leave, you seemed really lost in thought, but it’s policy.”
Embarrassed at being caught here, but glad he hadn’t turned up twenty minutes ago, I stood up. Turning my wrist, I flicked the delicate platinum band of my wristwatch, checking the time. It was only five-thirty. I still had an hour and a half before the official fundraiser dinner, but I could go to the mixer at the lily pools.
“I’m sorry, I realized the rope was there for a reason, but I couldn’t help myself. It’s so beautiful here.” I walked towards the young man, not missing the way his gaze flitted down to my chest.
“I don’t blame you, Miss, but rules are rules. I’d be happy to escort you personally to another beautiful section of our gardens.” He gave a small awkward bow and stepped off to one side to let me pass.
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’ll find my own way. I’m attending the black-tie dinner tonight for the women’s shelter. I might head over to the earlier mixer and see if I can find a few friendly faces.” I could hear disappointment in his voice as he followed me back out into the public areas.
“If you’re sure? I really would be happy to help you. I don’t have to lead another tour this shift.” The boy was so eager, barely contained desire for me tickling the edges of his words.
“I’m fine. Really.” I lifted my left hand, brushing hair out of my face and putting the five-carat diamond ring and wedding band on full display. It was the most ornate set of the two he’d gifted to me, which Ivan preferred me to wear when he wasn’t with me. Just another type of branding, showing that I was no better than cattle at a butcher’s farm.
The man’s eyes bugged out wide when he caught sight of the stone, and he took an obvious shift away from me, his body language leaning outwards instead of inward.
“Oh, okay. Whatever. You’ll want to go that way to get to the five o’clock mixer. It’s still going strong.” He pointed sullenly, his shoulders slumped.
“Thank you.” I smiled, trying to soften the blow. He couldn’t be much older than eighteen.
Remembering how life had been in my teens, I made my way towards the lily pools. Dad was the chef of the house. Though, he mostly only knew how to make breakfast foods. I ate my weight in pancakes most weeks, because it was his best dish. Mom’s food was typically inedible. Burnt toast. Rubbery eggs. Stuck-together pasta because she forgot to stir. Unless she got takeout and hid the evidence before we saw it, Dad and I went hungry on mom’s cooking days. When the food was surprisingly edible, we’d praise her lasagna and moon over her enchiladas, and then Dad and I would secretly check the outside trash for the throwaway delivery containers so we could tease her mercilessly.
They weren’t bad people.They weren’t.They didn’t deserve to die.
When my friend Jenny was in trouble and being hit by her stepfather, my parents had taken her in. They’d fed her and clothed her for nearly a year until child services could place her in a good foster home. I’d begged for Jenny to live with us permanently. I didn’t understand at the time why they’d said no. After helping her so much, I couldn’t comprehend why they’d let her go live with people who didn’t know her and didn’t love her.
They’d explained to me later about the lifestyle I’d been born into, and my obligations to the Bratva. Bringing in a child not born into the blood and ruin wasn’t something they could swallow.
Of course, creating a child and birthing her into that world was different for them somehow. They’d even wanted more than just a daughter, but it wasn’t in the cards.
