Chapter Five
Chiara
I really can’t believe I’m doing this. I am in this big, gorgeous man’s arms, being carried down a hotel hallway, and I’ve already decided that we’ll do whatever he wants to do. I’m one hundred percent ready to lose my virginity, and like Mike said, he knows what he’s doing. I’m giggly, maybe happier than I should be right now. I should be nervous, shouldn’t I? But I’m not. I’m excited. I should have done this as soon as my dad blackmailed me into this stupid engagement.
He smiles at me when I laugh. He really does have a beautiful smile. His teeth are not perfectly straight, they overlap a little, but they are white as pearls. Besides that, his smile is completely genuine. I don’t think Frankie has ever been happy about anything, including marrying me. I don’t even know why Frankie settled on me. He probably drew up a list of women he had not already fucked over, and then picked from the six or seven of us in the city. Maybe he drew my name out of a hat.
“Which room, treasure?” Mike asks, and brings me out of my musings.
“Fourteen twenty,” I answer. I like his adorable pet name for me, but it’s odd. It’s almost foreign. I wonder if he’s not American. He doesn’t have a strange accent, he’s all New York City. He sits my feet onto the ground, outside the room. I don’t even think about it, and my hands are perfectly steady. I slide the key right in, and throw open the door. I move to enter, but he picks me up and carries me over the threshold. That’s a little old fashioned.
I begin to wiggle against him, and place my hands on his chest to get him to release me. “You’re eager,” he mutters, and flips on a light switch as he closes the door.
We’re alone, inside a hotel room. I don’t even know his last name. I’m about to lose my virginity to a man I don’t know anything about. Before I know what’s happening, he sets me down again, and my back is against the door.
“You are so beautiful, Chiara. I can’t believe you’re actually here with me.” His voice is lower, huskier. It’s even sexier. He traces his finger over my cheek, and into my hair. How is such an innocent touch, so light and ordinary, setting every nerve ending inside me on fire?
He takes one step closer, and his big clunky black boots touch the toe of my expensive black heels, the ones with the red soles. Frankie bought them for me on my last birthday. I shouldn’t wear them, but fuck it they’re sexy and so comfortable.
“What are you gonna do to me?” I mumble.
“So many things, treasure. I’m going to do things you’ve never thought of, things that might shock you. I’m going to do things that you might think are dirty, or bad, or wrong. I don’t give a shit about other people’s morals. There’s only one thing I’m worried about, and that’s making your first time the most memorable event in your life. I want you to be ninety years old and remember exactly how I touched you.”
As he speaks, his hands run through my hair, over my ears, and down my neck. Everything inside me is quivering. My lungs are filling in short little breaths, then exhaling roughly. Am I nervous? No, I don’t think so. I’m aroused. My nipples are so hard I’m sure he can see them outlined through the dress, since I’m not wearing a bra. Why the hell did I wear this dress?
“You’ll feel a little uncomfortable treasure, that’s unavoidable. But if anything I do hurts you, I want you to tell me. I don’t want you to feel any pain, I just want you to feel overwhelming, irresistible pleasure.” He speaks like he knows how it feels to be deflowered, like he has sex with virgins every day. I don’t know, maybe he does.
“And I want you to say yes to me right now, darling. I want you to know that this is your choice. You choose me.” There’s something glittering behind his eyes, something I can’t identify.
No one has ever looked at me the way he is. He’s being very considerate. I almost expected him to just go right at it. I thought I’d be naked as soon as we entered the room. But he’s not treating me how I expected him to. It’s touching something deep inside me, something more than just my body. That’s scaring me more than the thought of having sex.
I think about it for several moments, as I stare into his crystal blue eyes. “Yes, I want you.”
He exhales loudly, and grants me another warm, radiant smile. “Thank you for giving me this gift, my treasure,” he murmurs. Slowly, almost deliberately, his hands move to my shoulders. He brushes his heavy jacket onto the floor. Then he hooks his fingers into the silky material of my dress, and tugs lightly. I didn’t realize when I put the dress on, with lots of pulling and arranging to get it just right, how easy it would be for someone to take off. He brings the dress off my arms and over my torso, in one smooth motion, and the material gathers at my waist.
His eyes leave mine, to take in my now bare chest. His hands start at my waist and move upward, over my ribcage. “You are incredible, Chi. Your skin is so soft and warm.” His big hands span my ribs, and his fingertips brush up my sides. I shiver from my shoulders to my thighs.
“This isn’t what I thought would happen.” My voice shakes, and catches as I speak. “I thought…”
“You’re with me now, my baby, and I will cherish every inch of you. I’m going to treat you like the princess you are.” His tone is warmer, but I also hear an edge in there. His eyes are burning hot. He’s restraining himself to be tender with me. I should be thankful, but in the back of my mind I want him to be passionate. I want him to let go.
Then I feel his thumbs brush against the bottom of my breasts. I breathe in deeply, but his breath is a loud hiss, and then a deep moan. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, as his thumbs sweep up, then gently touch my nipple.
Suddenly his mouth is on mine. I’ve been kissed, but never like this. His lips are searing my soul, his tongue is hot as it pushes its way into my mouth. His hands cup my breast, his palms rough against my hard pink buds. He’s branding my lips, my mouth, making sure I remember he’s been there for the rest of my life. His kiss is deep, emotional, almost spiritual. I forget everything except his lips and his mouth.
I’m wrapped up in these feelings, until he begins to flick his fingernails against my hard buds, and I gasp, pulling his breath from his lungs. He moans deep in his throat, and it fills me like his tongue does.
He pulls away from me, long enough to whisper, “I want you so much, Chi. Touch me.”
Then he takes my mouth again, as my hands find their way under his shirt. I can feel the indentations of his abs, and the line of coarse hair that trails down the middle. His moan is louder, deeper when I touch him. I feel it inside me, in the core of my being. And as I explore the flat plane of his stomach, interrupted only by ripples of muscles, I realize I want his moans, and his sighs, as much as I want him to touch me. My hands work their way over his ribs, feeling each notch, and find his tiny hard nipples. He groans at the light stroke of my fingertips. Then he pinches my own hard buds, before his hands abandon my body completely. He breaks the kiss, too, and pulls away.
Alarmed, I open my eyes, thinking he’s finished. Did I do something wrong? But he’s gazing at me like an animal would eye its prey, as he pulls the loose fitting cotton shirt over his head. I get my first look at his gorgeous body. His torso is shredded, slim and muscular at the same time, which doesn’t surprise me. What does surprise me are the colorful tattoos covering his pale skin. I didn’t expect to find them hiding under his dark, normal clothes.
The tattoos look familiar. He has a multi-pointed star on each pectoral muscle, several inches above his nipples. In the center of his chest is a big, beautiful crucifixion that is intricate and also somehow delicate. A huge wolf covers the ripples I felt earlier, covering his flat stomach. The wolf is looking at me with big blue eyes, and baring its teeth. I reach out to touch it again, but he wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me, making it impossible to continue to examine his art.
This kiss is more intimate, rougher, as his hands cover my back possessively. He pulls me into his body, skin to skin. His calloused palms caress my skin slowly, as if he’s trying to remember every inch of me. My hands are shaking as they again find his stomach, but this time it’s different. I’m studying his skin too, not just his muscles, but I’m also searching for the ink underneath. I can’t feel it, though. I only feel his warmth, his soft pale canvas that hides the marks he’s inflicted upon it. The noises he makes when I touch him are almost as animalistic as the look in his eyes. I am reminded of the wolf that adorns his body.
He’s making me tremble, just from a kiss, just from softly stroking my back. He’s giving me more pleasure than I’ve ever felt. He pulls away to assure me, “I’m not stopping tonight until I own you. I will possess you. You will be mine, Chi.” That is the point when I know he understands what I’m feeling.
He bends down onto his knees in front of me then, to remove my dress. I see more tattoos from this angle. He is practically covered in them. Across one shoulder is the handle of a dagger and on the other shoulder is a blade, as if the dagger is going through his neck. It’s a bit disturbing.
But the two that stand out, the two I understand, are the ones on his biceps. I can see them clearly from above him. They are two crosses. But they aren’t just any crosses, they have three bars. They are Orthodox crosses, and more precisely Russian Orthodox crosses.
He’s Russian! Shit! Why is a Russian seducing me, a girl with ties to the Italian mob? Oh my God, does he know who I am?
If he’s Russian, why did he introduce himself to me as Mike?
“Is it okay?” he asks me. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I didn’t realize what he was doing. Then I look down, and my dress is around my ankles, and his rough palms are moving up my calves. “You can step out now.”
I can ignore his tattoos, his nationality, and his misrepresentation, and allow him to fuck me senseless for the rest of the night and leave first thing in the morning. Or I can confront him, and perhaps upset him, and have him walk out on me. Or worse. What if he gets angry and blows up? Why am I about to give myself to a man if I’m not sure how he’ll react to one simple question?
It’s not that big a deal. It’s not like we’re going to fall in love. I need to decide, right now though, without questioning his motives. He’s looking up at me with the clearest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, almost reverently. He is positioned like a crouching wolf, ready to strike, but he’s waiting for me to give my permission.
It’s one night. One night with the most stunning man I’ve ever seen. This one night has to last a lifetime.
I step out of the dress and stand in front of Mike wearing only a black thong.
He breathes in deeply, as if he’s been waiting, and his beautiful face moves toward my underwear, toward my core.