Chapter 16
On entering The Russian’s house again, I held my breath. I sort of expected Leesa to be back, but the place was quiet. The only evidence of the former drama was a hole in the plasterboard wall. The Russian looked a bit sheepish as he saw me looking at it.
“Here’s the plan,” he said. He was so like me, I always had a plan.
“Let’s go for a beach walk and do our talking there, then come back here and crash for the night. First light is at quarter-to-seven, sunrise at just after seven o’clock ...” he stopped, catching my expression.
“I’m impressed,” I said.
“I hope so. I’ve got some other impressive things to show you too, if you can be any more impressed by me,” he teased.
“Does seem impossible,” I agreed.
He put my bag down in one of the bedrooms ... I didn’t know if it was his, hmm, interesting, and he grabbed the keys and then my hand. We went out through the balcony glass doors and he locked them.
He kicked his shoes off and suggested I did the same; we left them near the door. I turned and breathed in the salt air and the view. Even at night by moonlight it was stunning; I could only imagine what it was like to live there when you could see it all the time. We took the stairs down the side of his condo and within a minute were on the beach. There were people around even at that hour and we made our way to the harder sand on the water’s edge and began to walk. It was the most magic of settings. The moon lit the water, it was quiet and balmy and The Russian took my hand. It was so private – most people on the beach wanted their own space so no one was there to witness us, ask for autographs or get photos. Magic.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you want to hear ... I’ve never hit a woman and I never will, ever. Leesa just knows how to rile me ...”
“But why did you stay together this long if it was so wrong?”
The Russian sighed and looked out to sea, as we continued to walk along the beach.
“I know this will probably sound stupid, but I guess we didn’t know how to leave,” he said, with a shrug. “We were together from our school days and I knew it wasn’t a great relationship, but we had invested so much time, it seemed futile to throw it away – like it just should work or it once did, so let’s force it,” he tried to explain it. “But once I got contracted and couldn’t give her the time she wanted, things got worse. It’s one of the reasons I signed with the Saints.”
“To move here? To get away from her?” I asked.
“More or less. It was running away, or running home ... my family moved here when I started middle school … Dad got a transfer here. That’s how I met Leesa because her father kept a house here, he wanted Leesa schooled away from the city lights. As soon as we graduated, she was out of here. When I came back to play for the Saints, I knew Leesa wouldn’t want to come back, she wanted the, Hollywood lifestyle. She needs to be in the party scene and I hate that scene.”
I nodded, not saying anything in case he stopped talking. I’d never heard him say so much.
“Did you want to ask me anything?” he said.
I bit my lip, thinking. I wanted to ask him a thousand questions but I wanted the night to be about us too, what was left of it. “Do you want to get back with her?”
“Never.”
I loved that word, it was so ‘forever’. His wary eyes watched me as I prepared my next question.
“Do you want some time out to ... you know ... play the field, have a break from relationships, just have some fun? Because, I’m not interested in a fling, but I’ll understand if you need to do that.” I stopped breathing while I waited for his answer.
He shook his head. “I’ve played the field during the times we’ve been off and there’s been a lot of times. The ex has been playing the field on me for years. I hate that; I won’t live with that kind of relationship again.”
Just what I wanted to hear, my stomach settled down again. The Russian was ticking all my boxes, I was getting the security I needed to think we had a chance.
Then he brought it home beautifully.
“I wish you and I had met earlier, years ago,” he said, and my heart went straight to my throat. I swallowed, holding back tears. “I know it’s really early days, but we get each other and what we need to do.” He turned around, spinning me under his arm like a dance move and put his arm around my shoulder as we walked back in the moonlight towards his place.
I nodded. “The partner of an athlete is not an easy role.”
“But if the partners aren’t competing or jealous it can be great,” he said. “I’ve seen it around the club, like Lucas and Mia. She’s a sports physio, she loves the game, loves him, gets what he has to do and he needs her. So far, you seem calm ... no tantrums, no demands, you even make me want to work harder at being better.”
I smiled up at him, flattered he would say that. I felt the same; in fact, I was hoping my last match was going to be super impressive if The Russian was going to be watching me from one of the ten seats he had bought at the auction.
“What about Nik and Sasha?” I asked about our mutual friends, curiosity getting the better of me.
“They’re solid, but different. They’re both ambitious but not competing, so they help each other. Nik needs security and Sasha has that in buckets. Not sure about Tomás and Alice though.”
“Why?” I asked, even though I’d only met Alice once.
The Russian shrugged. “Just a feeling they won’t make it.”
I smiled at him and gave him a poke.
“What?” he grinned at me.
“Sasha said you loved to be amongst the girl gossip.”
“Hard not to be,” he rolled his eyes. “Right next door to my office is Kay, Sasha and Alice; I go home to visit and Dad and I are outnumbered as you know. If you can’t beat them – metaphorically speaking,” he added quickly, “might as well join them.”
“Hmm, that so?” I studied him. “So what do you think about that potential new couple ... The Russian and that gorgeous Suns’ player he’s met, Carla Brooker?” I asked, tongue-in-cheek.
“Well,” he said, and gave a long sigh. “Luckiest girl alive, I’d say.”
I laughed and poked his muscled chest again and he grabbed my hand and kissed it.
“Careful, Brooker. Don’t work me up,” he teased. He kissed the top of my head and tucked me under his arm. His condo was close now and our beach walk was going to be over in moments. He must have thought the same thing and suddenly got very serious.
“The thing is, Brooker, I want you to have all the success in the world, because like you, when I finish my contract—and I’ve got a few more years to go yet, knock on wood—I’m going to be trying to stay in the game somehow ... in sport administration, coaching or business. It’s my life. So this existence, these hours and the routine, they are not a passing phase,” he said.
“Exactly, it’s our passion; it’s what I want to stay involved in, I’ve worked hard at it, so have you.”
We arrived back at his place and headed up the stairs. He unlocked the sliding glass door, we left our shoes outside still and entered. The Russian locked the door behind us and turned to me.
“Are we good?” he asked.
“I have one more question,” I said, trying to look as serious as I could.
“Okay, shoot,” he said, a frown appearing on his handsome face.
“What did you make for dinner?”
He grinned. “The best lasagne you have never tasted. It was superb. Still in the fridge ... really, you would have been impressed.”
“Your mom made it didn’t she?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Fine, yes she did.”
I laughed.
“So, are we good now?”
“We’re good,” I agreed. He smiled and looked relaxed for the first time that night. He leaned his forehead against mine and we breathed each other in, and then I yelped as my feet disappeared from underneath me and he swept me up.
*****
I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me into the main bedroom and wow, The Russian was an alpha in every sense of the word – it was a room for a king: a huge king bed, a huge room, ocean views, a huge ensuite that I could see through the door and a walk-in-wardrobe that you could live in.
The Russian placed me beside the bed, standing me in front of him, but he didn’t let me go. He reached to beside the bed where he hit a button and the bedroom blind went down. Then he looked at me again – his dark eyes scanning my face.
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready ...”
“I’m ready,” I said. “Are you?”
He made a scoffing sound as he pressed against me, his body and his erection hard – in fact, everything about him was hard except for the look in his eyes. His hands went down to my legs and he lifted the skirt of my dress, slowly pulling it up and over my head. I stood in front of him with a pale cream lace and satin lingerie set on. I had bought it for that night and I had started thinking I had lost the chance to show it off. I was pretty sure The Russian appreciated it; he made this growling sort of sound and his hands ran down my body; I broke out in tingles all over.
He stopped long enough to pull his T-shirt off over his head and then it was my turn to be tongue-tied. Actually, my tongue just wanted to trace that six pack and work its way down lower. I ran my fingers along his arms, feeling his muscles, his built arms. He undid his belt and slipped his jeans down and off. He stood tanned and muscled, in a white pair of fitted boxers. I wish I could have gotten a photo for the nights I was alone.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded with just the hint of impatience and The Russian read that too – take me right now! He took both of my hands in his and then worked them around to behind me. With one large hand, he circled both of my wrists and returned his free hand to my front. He started at my neck and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand for much longer, and then his finger slipped the lace edge of my bra and revealed my nipple. I went to put my arms around me but couldn’t move, and then his tongue found my nipple as his hand released my other nipple and began to squeeze it.
“Russian” I groaned.
“Mm?”
“I’m going to collapse.”
He chuckled, released my hands and ran his fingers up my back, finding the clasp of my bra and releasing my breasts.
“Beautiful, you’re beautiful, Brooker,” he said, moving his gaze from my breasts to my eyes and back. He lowered me onto the bed, one of his knees keeping my legs apart. Then he began to kiss me slowly; I’d never thought I could orgasm from kissing but holy hell, with the kiss and his rock hard penis pressing against me through the fabric of our underwear, I was dangerously close. Then his kisses moved down until he reached the edge of my lace panties, his fingers beginning to tease around the edges while his mouth returned to my nipple.
While my breathing took on a life of its own, my hands began to do their own exploring and I ran my fingernails along the fabric barely covering his erection. I felt him shiver from the feel; I loved having that power over this huge hunk of a man.
His fingers ran over the lace covering my clit and I arched up; I swear I was so close I was going to come before he even got my panties off. The Russian worked my panties down and then he tore his mouth away from my nipples and slipped down lower. My stomach lurched; this was so intimate, I wasn’t really ready for him to go down there, I just wanted him inside me first time and maybe using his fingers down there below. I know that sounds silly but the tongue below is so ... well not in your face.
“Russian?” I said, trying to grab him and pull him back up by his impressive arms. His tongue found my clit and gave one short and sharp lick. I nearly went through the roof; I was so tightly wound. I didn’t want to be a tease, but could we go slower, just a bit slower or was I being stupid, childish, a tease?
“Russian!”
He looked up and crawled back up me, his still encased erection holding pride of place alongside the taut arms that held his body over me.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I want you to come inside me ... now,” I stuttered. “I’m not ready for ...” He looked a little confused. I don’t think The Russian was used to a woman taking over when he was in charge in the bedroom and I didn’t mean to, I just didn’t want to be totally opened up to him yet.
“You’re beautiful, Brooker, and I want to touch every inch of you,” he said, looking at me intensely. “What’s going on in there?” he lightly tapped my head and pulled me hard against him.
“Nothing, I’m just going slow.”
He bit his lower lip for a moment as he watched me, and I tried to squirm away, but he wasn’t having it.
“You’re not a virgin, are you?” he asked.
“No,” I laughed. “I just want to get to know every inch of each other, slowly ... does that make sense?” I’m sure it didn’t but I wasn’t used to anyone’s tongue down there, I’d only had two real relationships and one of those guys hadn’t liked doing it and the other hadn’t done it well – it scared the hell out of me. How did I say that without killing the moment?
I reached for his boxers and began to slide them down. The Russian helped.
“For someone who is going slow, you’re in a hurry to get those off,” he said, reaching into the top drawer of the dresser beside the bed and grabbing a condom. I giggled like I was love drunk and enjoyed the view. The reaching for the condom process had given me a perfect close-up view of his large organ and wow, I couldn’t help myself, I reached out and touched it.
The Russian groaned as I softly ran my fingers over the skin on all sides of him, so soft, the skin pulled so tight. He breathed in and seemed to hold it before remembering to let it out and take another breath.
“Slow is just fine,” The Russian agreed. “Is this okay?” he sucked on my nipple again and I nodded, unable to form words, but I did manage a pleasure moan. Then he worked a finger down between my legs and began to navigate his way inside me, and out again as he circled my clit.
“That okay?” he whispered near my ear.
“So okay,” I said, barely able to get the words out. I heard him chuckle. “Come inside me,” I begged.
“Just wait for it Brooker. No wonder you play forward, so bossy and defensive.”
I laughed then stopped suddenly as his finger slipped inside me again and he hit a spot that took me to a whole new level of ecstasy. I moaned with pleasure.
“Yeah, and that’s why I play forward, I know how to score,” he teased me.
“Oh my God,” I muttered, “Russian ...” I felt the sensation everywhere – inside me, on my nipple as he tugged on it, around my clit as he lightly rubbed it. It was overwhelming and I think I cried out his name a few more times as the build-up took the tension to a whole new level. I could smell him, feel, him, sense him. Then, thank God, I exploded in relief and release, taking it for as long as I could before I tried to pull his hands away from me.
The Russian repositioned me underneath him and, keeping his weight off me, he lowered himself on top of me. I was so tight from coming and he was so hard and huge that I arched as he came in.
“Going slow,” he said in his low, sexy baritone voice as he inched in. His breathing became more erratic, sometimes stopping. Finally, he was in completely and I grabbed one of his butt cheeks, while managing to work my other hand around the front and tease his balls.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered, and I might have made a joke about how it kind of was since he was fucking the reverend’s daughter, if I could have formed words.
I didn’t want him to think I was a total missionary-position dud on the first session, so I tried a few tricks – I tightened my internal muscles around him and felt him jerk.
“Fuck, Brooker,” he said, stopping completely still. “Don’t move for a minute,” he ordered me. The Russian swore a lot more during sex than he did during normal conversation – yep sexy, everything he did was sexy.
“Why?” I teased him and tightened my muscles around him again. His eyes opened and he frowned as he fixed a hazy glare at me, before closing his eyes again. He began to move slowly inside of me, with each move his arm muscles flexed and I continued to tease his balls and butt, giving him an occasional clamp from inside. He began to pick up the pace and even though I didn’t come without clit stimulation, it felt so good to feel full of The Russian that I came pretty close to a second release.
As he quickened, he seemed to fill every inch of me and I cried out with the pleasure and pain. Then he came in a loud growl of pleasure; so fucking hot. He seemed to come forever, and then he settled down holding me.
“Don’t pull out,” I said, wanting to keep him in for as long as I could, to feel him inside me filling me up. We remained attached, breathing heavy, looking at each other and I was gone –truly, madly, deeply lost in the ‘L’ word that was too early to say.
*****
After separating, getting rid of the condom and snuggling into spoon position, we did manage to get some sleep somewhere between one a.m. and sunrise. I stirred before The Russian and just watched him sleep. He was so beautiful – long dark lashes, the most kissable mouth, high cheekbones and chiseled jaw ... just beautiful. And even though he joked about being a great catch, I don’t think he really knew what a great catch he was. Then there was the body I could mount every day for the rest of my life and never tire of it. I ran my eyes down his chest, down to the sheet at the edge of his hips and the morning wood below it. When I returned my eyes to his, he was watching me.
“Brooker,” he said my name softly and with affection, and then he reached over and touched my face, with an expression in his eyes like he was home. I was in heaven, kill me now, this will do me; I can leave the earth happy.
“Did you sleep or have you just been studying me all night?” he teased.
“I tried to stay awake to gaze upon you, but in all honesty, I was completely out of it until about ten minutes ago. And you?”
“Same,” he said.
I ran my nails lightly over his chest, watching as his skin broke out in goosebumps and the erection under the sheet got harder and higher.
“You know where that’s going to lead?” he asked. I began to stroke his large erection through the sheet, not touching his skin ... yet.
“I sure do,” I said, and smiled. He shook his head at me.
“You’re trouble, Brooker. You tell me that you want to take it slow, then you rip my boxers off and now, you’re encouraging me again. Just trouble.”
I laughed and then in a flash he grabbed me, pushed me below him, while holding the weight of his chest in his arms ... he was a big boy, no wonder his arms were so well built if he was constantly holding up his own weight.
“Tell me what that was about last night?” he said, quietly.
“What?”
“The missionary thing. Has someone hurt you?” he asked, scanning my face.
I felt my face go red. “No. I just wanted to go slowly,” I said, again. It was the truth ... I didn’t need or believe in instant intimacy ... I like a build-up. “We don’t need to do everything in our first sexual encounter.”
He breathed out, as if he was deciding if he believed me or not and then he rolled onto his side and pulled me against him, my back against his chest. His erection pushed against my butt cheeks, but not once did he threaten that area and he began to tease me, softly rubbing my nipples. It was my most erogenous zone, he may as well have switched on the light to my body. They hardened instantly and I felt a tingle in my lower regions.
“Let me go down on you, Brooker, I want to taste you, make you scream,” he said, seductively. Fuck he was sexy, hadn’t I mentioned that?
I turned to face him. “I haven’t showered.”
“I don’t care,” he said.
I frowned and my libido went out the window. I didn’t want to lose The Russian over this and I didn’t want him to think me a prude, but I just had a psychological thing about it ... I had a few hang-ups thanks to my last two boyfriends. I didn’t want The Russian going down there unless I was fresh from the shower – I wanted it to be clean and sweet. I know it was over the top when I’d go down on him salty or sweaty in a heartbeat, but I had my issues. Then, I saw my opportunity to sound sexy and not too weird.
“I’m saving it,” I said, “for later.”
“Later when?” he frowned, pausing on my nipple stimulation to study me again.
I sighed and bit my lip with the intention of adding some drama and suspense to it. I was not manipulating him like Leesa, I was just trying to hide one of my phobias for as long as I could –well that was what I was telling myself.
“I have this thing that really turns me on,” I started and I saw I had piqued his interest. He pushed himself further up on one elbow to look down on me. Meanwhile, his hand rubbed along my breasts and stomach, which was really distracting.
“Do tell?” he invited me.
“Saltwater. I love swimming in salt water and then, when we’re dry, licking the salt off each other, licking it off everywhere ...”
I swear his dick stiffened and his eyebrows shot up.
“Really?”
I nodded. It was true, weird but true. I loved being covered in ocean salt water and I loved tasting it ... it was so, well, ocean-ish. I don’t know where it came from, but I’ve always loved it. Even as a child when it wasn’t erotic of course, I wouldn’t wash off when I came back from the ocean, I just loved the salt on my skin when it dried. I loved the smell, taste and feel.
“So ...” I continued, “after the gym and our ocean swim, I was hoping you might lick me and let me lick you, unless you think that’s too weird,” I said, avoiding the truth a little and still managing to sound reasonably sexy. I hoped.
“Weird yes, but weird good,” he said. “I’d be happy to lick the salt off you,” he said with a smile skirting his lips. “But right now, can you at least lick my fingers?” he asked, and ran a finger over my lips. I narrowed my eyes in the challenge, grabbed his finger and sucked on it. He slowly drew it from my lips and took the moisture down to my clit and began teasing me. He dipped into me to get more moisture ... he didn’t need me to lick, I was wet from watching him.
He lowered his lips to mine and then trailed down to take my nipple in his mouth. His finger worked inside me, his thumb worked around my lips and clit and I came quickly, too quickly, but I didn’t care, I just wanted the high. Then I went lower to take him in my mouth and he stopped me.
“No, Brooker, we’re both in or both out, so to speak. Your mouth can have me when I can have you,” he said, playing fair. “But I’d love to see that tight little butt of yours,” he ran a hand over my butt cheeks, then rolled me over onto my stomach. I felt him rise above me and his body covered mine. He grabbed a pillow, placed it under my hips and reaching for a condom, slipped it on. Slowly he moved between my legs, and I felt him pressing to get in. I was tight and a little sore from last night, and I gasped on his entry.
He stopped.
“It’s okay, it’s very okay actually,” I promised him, and he continued to slip in slowly. Finally, he was fully in and then sliding became easier.
“Brooker, you feel so good,” he moaned.
I moaned my agreement; it was amazing feeling him in and around me and I began to move in motion with him, tightening around him, clamping on him just to feel him shudder and groan. He came with a wonderful growl of satisfaction, and then he lowered himself, burying his face in my hair.
“Morning,” he muttered and I giggled.
“Morning.” We stayed cocooned for a few moments until he pulled out, removed the condom and disposed of it.
Then he reached over and pressed the same button that opened the blinds and he pulled me into him. I gasped at the beauty of it. The sun was just beginning to rise over the water—to describe it wouldn’t do it justice—this ball of pink, orange, red and yellow. Laying spooned together we had an uninterrupted view of it.
“That’s what I wanted to show you,” he said.
“Wow, you get to see this every morning?” I asked.
“I do, but the view’s even better today,” he said, kissing my neck. So charming.
I rubbed his arm as it wound around me, and lying in his embrace we watched the color show on the ocean as the sun set the horizon alight.