Bad, Bad Things (7 page)

Sergei’s gaze never leaves mine. I can tell he gets some kind of thrill from this. Maybe Marco was right. It’s all about power with Sergei.

“She’s clean.” The bodyguard takes my purse and unceremoniously dumps it on the coffee table. I’m beyond mortified as the contents fall out for Sergei’s inspection. The DVD, birth control pills, condoms, makeup, a few emergency tampons, travel-sized toiletries, an envelope of emergency cash, an extra pair of panties, a burner phone and a 49

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pair of disposable ballet flats for those nights when my feet are killing me after a long night of partying.

The guard unzips a pocket and removes the roll of antacids and travel-sized packets of pain relievers. He has the gall to taste each of them. “Not drugs.”

“I don’t do drugs!” Sure, I’ve had nights where I’ve had a little too much to drink but I’ve never, not once, abused drugs, prescription or otherwise. “And I don’t appreciate being treated like a criminal.”

“How should I treat you?” Sergei motions for his guard to leave as I frantically gather my things. “Extortion is crime.”

Well, he’s got me there.

The door shuts behind his guard and for the first time we’re completely alone. I don’t know what to do so I just stand there, gripping my purse in one hand and feeling incredibly uncomfortable. I have the feeling he doesn’t quite know what to say either.

“Do you do this often?” He seems confused so I clarify. “Pay women for sex.”

Sergei snorts. “
Nyet
.” His brow arches. “Do you make habit of blackmail?”

“I wouldn’t call it a habit.”

He chuckles and pats the cushion beside him. “Come. Sit.”

I cautiously move closer and sit on the very edge of the cushion. Sergei smiles in amusement and gently pries the purse from my hands. He sets it aside but keeps my fingers in his grasp. His thumb moves lazily over my skin. “Are you hungry?”

“What?” That was the last thing I expected to hear him ask. “Um, no.”

“Champagne?” He’s already pouring so the question is moot.

“No.” Getting tipsy is the last thing I need so I decline the glass he offers. To his credit, he doesn’t push.

“Relax,” he whispers silkily. “I will not hurt you.”

I laugh nervously and tug at the hem of my dress, making sure my skinned knees stay covered. “I find that hard to believe.

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Bad, Bad Things

Sergei’s thumb stills. He wears an expression of surprise and injury. “Why?”

“I’ve seen the whole tape,” I remind him.

“Ah. Yes…”

“Look,” I brush away the loose curl clinging to my cheek, “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hit me, please.”

Sergei is clearly taken aback by that request. “I never hit woman in my life!”

“You didn’t seem to have any problems whipping a man.”

“That was different!” He’s riled up now. I wonder belatedly if I’ve just poked the bear. “That was game. You never play games?”

“Not like that.”

He’s interested now. “Then what kind?”

I shrug and nervously gnaw on my thumb. “Girl stuff. Toys. Role playing.”

Sergei gently pulls my thumb from my mouth. “Not very attractive.”

“No,” I agree with embarrassment. “It’s a nervous habit.”

“Are you lesbian?”

My brow lifts. “Does it matter? I mean, I’m here for money, not love. And I could ask the same of you. Are you gay?”

“No,” he says. “Not gay, not straight, just…open.” Sergei frowns. “But it does matter to me. If you don’t like men, I won’t force issue.” He motions toward the door.

“You’re free to leave.”

“Just like that?” Even though this is my out, I’m not the least bit tempted to lie. The longer we talk, the more I want to stay.

He nods. “Without second half of money, of course.”

“Of course,” I parrot sarcastically. “No,” I say eventually, “I’m not a lesbian. I’m just like you. Open. Curious.”

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I’m struck by the bizarre nature of our conversation. Are we really discussing sexual orientation? Why hasn’t he made a move yet? Is he going to draw this out all night? I’m not sure how much more of this small talk I can take. Although that thumb rubbing circles on my hand is kind of nice. Okay. Really nice.

“I am curious why you need money.”

I squash the urge to chew on my finger again. Best to divert. “Why all these questions?”

“I want to learn more about you.”

“You don’t have someone on your payroll to do things like that? You know, just snap those fingers and—blam!—a dossier appears on your lap?”

Sergei’s lips curve just a bit. “I’d rather do
this
myself.”

I shrug. “It’s your time you’re wasting. A quick Google search would have told you all you wanted to know about me.”

He shakes his head. “Not girl in paparazzi pictures and sleazy tabloid stories. I want to know the
real
Ofelia.”

The way he says my name sends little quivers of pleasure through my tummy. It’s lazy and slow, like honey over the tongue. I almost can’t stand it.

“Trust me. You wouldn’t like her.” I grab a champagne flute and sip. Sergei’s studious gaze blazes over my face. “What?”

“Why I would not like real Ofelia?”

I gape at him. “Um, I’m blackmailing you, for one.”

He makes a dismissive face. “Just dirty side of business.”

Now I’m really gawping. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am big target. You are just one of many.”

That tidbit makes me sad. No wonder he’s so closed off and cold. My feelings toward him grow more complicated as sympathy is thrown into the mix. I want to tell 52

Bad, Bad Things

him I’m sorry I’ve dragged him into this, that I’m sorry I’m such a manipulative bitch, but I keep my mouth shut.

“You are first I pay full price,” Sergei admits, his hand drifting to my face. He brushes his knuckles along my jaw. “I never negotiate before.”

My eyelids lower as his thumb caresses my chin. I have to know. Is this a game? A strategic move? Or something else. “Why me?”

“You infuriate me.” His lips touch mine briefly. “You enchant me.” He nibbles my lower lip. “You are like witch weaving spell.”

I’ve heard some lines in my life but this one? Oh, this one
nails
it. With just a few words, Sergei has managed to turn something distasteful and morally compromising into a night I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I actually believe he wants me for me, that this isn’t about the money or the blackmail. It’s not true, but it’s nice to pretend.

“Tell me you want me,
lubimaya
.”

I have no idea what he’s just called me and I don’t care. The way he said it is enough for me. “I want you, Sergei.”

And that’s the truth. I haven’t wanted a man like this ever. Normally I’m the one calling the shots. I’m the instigator in a relationship, in and out of the bedroom. I’m the one who begins and ends it. The control never leaves my hand.

But now?

With Sergei, I’m not quite sure who’s in charge or what’s really happening—and I like it.

Sergei’s insistent kiss leaves me all warm and tingly. He cups the back of my neck and slides his tongue against mine in the wickedest dance. I can’t keep my hands to myself a moment longer. I take hold of his shirt with one hand and tug him closer. My other hand ends up in his hair, finally mussing the brushed-back strands as I’d wanted to earlier.

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He breaks our passionate kiss and stares into my eyes. It’s unnerving, almost as if he can see behind my public persona. Maybe he
does
really want to know the real Ofelia.

“You are so beautiful,
milaya moya
.” Sergei nuzzles my nose. “You do not need all this makeup. Less is more.”

There’s no stopping the wince Sergei’s touch elicits. His fingers sweep over the bruised area around my eye, the area I caked and camouflaged. I hope he won’t notice—but he does.

His jaw tenses. “Ofelia? What is wrong with eye?”

“Nothing.” It’s pointless to lie but it’s instinct. “Really.”

Sergei stands and pulls me up with him. Despite my protests, he drags me across the living room, through the master suite and into the well-appointed bathroom. He shows his strength by clasping my hips and lifting me onto the marble counter. With one look, he effectively silences and paralyzes me. I’m not moving an inch.

My stomach churns as he wets a washcloth and then carefully wipes my face clean, starting at my eye. I can’t meet his gaze. Guilt and fear and shame send my eyes south to the floor. Even though I can’t see him, I can feel his anger. It radiates in waves, pulsing through me and setting my nerves on edge.

Sergei removes my necklace and swipes away the makeup there too. His fingertips touch the bruises marring my throat. “Who did this?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Sergei tips my chin, leaving me no choice but to meet his steely gaze. “This is why you need money?” He seems to read the answer on my face. “Then it is my business.”

“I can’t.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I just can’t.”

Sergei softens and kisses me so tenderly it brings tears to my eyes. “Ofelia.”

His imploring tone breaks through my defenses. I know I shouldn’t trust him with the truth but I can’t stop myself.

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Bad, Bad Things

I tell him everything.

He listens without judgment. I get the feeling he’s heard—or done—worse.

“And so I picked you to blackmail,” I finish, sniffling loudly. “You have deep pockets and dark secrets.”

He seems impressed with my honesty. “You are practical girl. I like this.”

“No, I think you had me pegged right the first time.” I dab at my nose with the tissue he handed me. “I really am just a conniving bitch.”

“No. Opportunistic,” he decides, gathering me close and kissing my temple. With a heavy sigh, he says, “You should go.”

“What?” Stunned, I pull back. “Why?”

“This,” Sergei touches my black eye, “change everything.” He shakes his head.

“You can have money without sex.”

His gracious offer dazes me. He’s not fucking around either. I could slide off this counter, walk out that door and still have every penny.

The dynamic shifts. Just moments ago, I was battling my desire for Sergei and embracing the reluctance spawned by the knowledge I was, in essence, selling my body.

But he’s right. Now everything has changed. For a moment, I can almost forget what brought me here. I can almost convince myself Sergei doesn’t care about the blackmail or the money, that he’s genuinely concerned for me.

“What if I want to stay anyway?” Suddenly nervous he’ll reject me and send me home now there’s no game to play, I bring my thumb to my mouth.

Sergei captures my gaze and slowly draws down my hand. Hesitation marks his face. “Why?”

“Whatever this is,” I gesture between us, “whatever is happening between us tonight, I don’t want it to end yet.”

There’s no masking the vulnerability in my voice. Sergei heard it, I’m sure. He gives me a reassuring smile. My heart beats a resounding pulse against my eardrums. I inhale 55

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shuddery breaths as Sergei parts my knees, pulls me toward the very edge of the counter and steps between my open thighs. His hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back and presenting my lips for the taking. I melt into his all-consuming kiss.

Desperate to feel his skin, I attack the buttons lining the front of his shirt. His hands grope my breasts and slide beneath my skirt. Frustrated by the slow pace of the unbuttoning, I grasp a handful of expensive cotton and silk blend fabric and tug it free of his trousers. “Take it off!”

Sergei smiles against my mouth. “
Da
.”

He peels the shirt up and over his head, revealing a deliciously muscled torso covered in tattoos. I reach for him, bringing him even closer, pressing our pelvises together, and flick my tongue against a nipple. He makes an odd little noise and threads his fingers through my loose hair. I lick and suck and outline his tattoos. The taste and smell of his clean skin energizes me.

When he’s had enough of my tongue sliding over his chest, he pulls my face up to meet his, darting his tongue inside my mouth. He expertly unzips my dress while making love to my mouth. The straps of my dress fall down around my shoulders. He takes hold of the front and pulls it down even farther, baring my breasts to his hungry gaze.

I brace myself against the counter as he teases my breasts. His tongue grazes my puckered nipples. He playfully teethes the peaks. With every swipe of his tongue, pleasure twists in my lower belly. Sergei licks a long, meandering trail up the side of my neck and bites my earlobe.

I’m soaking wet now. I’m panting for him, clutching at his ribs and begging him to give me relief. “Sergei…”

“I smell you.” His growled words send ripples of excitement through my body. “Is your pussy wet for me?”

“Yes.” I buck against him in encouragement.

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“You want my fingers?” Sergei’s fingers slide behind the tiny scrap of silk guarding my sex and probe my cunt. “Or my tongue?”

I watch as Sergei licks my pussy cream from his fingers, his lusty gaze fixed on mine. My pussy pulses as desire blossoms in my chest. I’m on fire as Sergei falls to his knees and pushes aside my skirt. He coaxes me to lift my bottom and frees me of my panties.

“Maybe I use both.” His words vibrate through my clit, his lips just centimeters from finally touching me. That pliable tongue takes one swipe and I’m gone.

“Oh God!” My cry echoes in the bathroom. I grip the counter and hold on for dear life as Sergei traces my folds and swirls his tongue over my clit. He grasps my thighs, forcing my legs wide, and delves into my cunt. His tongue explores me. His nose stimulates the stiff nub of my clitoris.

A pair of fingers slides easily into me. He laps at me with broad swipes, working me into a frenzy, and then switches his concentration to the underside of my clit. The sensation is sharp, almost too much at first, but he varies the pressure and keeps me hovering at the edge of exploding. His fingers continue to fuck me, the tips curving and seeking out my G-spot.