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I brace myself against the onslaught of tremors that race down my spine until they finally break loose and overwhelm me. Then I’m coming and gasping his name in spluttered half-syllables.
But the whole time I’m coming, he never stops thrusting upwards. He fucks me right through the orgasm, and he doesn’t stop, even when I go limp like putty on top of him.
He just starts moving a tiny bit slower. When I’m finally calm, he pulls my right nipple into his mouth and starts sucking gently.
And just like that, I feel the needles of desire ravage my body all over again.
I pull at his hair while he brings me to my second orgasm, a little slower and softer and fuzzier than the first. Only then does he give way to his own pleasure. I keep my eyes on him as the muscles of his face contract. His eyes narrow in concentration and the vein at the side of his forehead stands out starkly.
His jaw tightens and he lets out a small, barely audible grunt as I feel him erupt into me.
A wild thought runs through my head as he unleashes:I’m glad to have a part of him inside of me.
It’s gone as soon as it came, leaving me wondering where that came from, why I thought it, what it might mean.
My forehead comes to rest against his. For a moment, I can’t quite tell our breaths apart. I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. He doesn’t push me off him, and my legs are locked so tightly around his hips that I’m not sure I can move by myself.
He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. But there’s a lot I want to say. How on earth can we have a fake wedding after we shared that together? Fake weddings are for fake connections, aren’t they? And this feels so damn real.
More real than anything I’d shared with Adrian.
The moment that thought hits me, I feel horrible. All the guilt I’d managed to stave off up until now comes rushing back.
I have no right to compare the two of them like that.
I marshal what’s left of my strength and slowly peel myself off Kolya’s lap. He doesn’t fight me. He just watches as I put my clothes back on. Then I fall into the seat beside him, spent and conflicted.
“The car’s not moving anymore,” I observe after a few seconds.
“We’re home.”
Home.It sounds right, but it shouldn’t. This isn’t my home. It was never supposed to be. I’ve gone along with too much already without asking questions.
“Kolya—”
Knock-knock-knock.
I jerk upright in a panic. Kolya sits up calmly. He buttons up the top two buttons I’d managed to work loose and swings the passenger side door open.
Milana is standing outside with a grim expression. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says. “But I need you inside urgently.”
She barely even glances at me before she turns and strides into the house. Kolya looks at me, one raised eyebrow saying everything he would never say out loud.
Then he follows her inside.
43
JUNE
I end up following Kolya to one of the larger sitting rooms on the first floor. Fire burns in the hearth and the arched windows draw in a soft breeze from outside.
A young woman waits by the fireplace. She’s wearing a humble blue dress with a torn sleeve, and her dark brown hair spills down her back in large, elegant curls that make her look like something out of a fairytale.
Then she turns her face towards Kolya and me, and I realize that the expression on her face is the stuff of nightmares, not fairytales.
I stop at the threshold, transfixed and afraid, but Kolya follows Milana right into the room.
He kneels down next to the girl and says something to her, too low for me to catch. She nods once and then her neck drops. Her body shudders with devastating sobs, but no words that I can make out. Just pure anguish.
