Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
He picks up the candle with one hand and strokes my ass with the other.
On the opposite side of the wall, his shadow looms over me. His arm tilting. I close my eyes and breathe. The first drop of wax falls onto my skin and steals that same oxygen. The second hurts less. And the third is when I feel the rush of endorphins.
His palm slides down between my thighs to cup me and then finger me. He alternates his movements from the dripping candle to the hand between my legs. Pleasure and pain. So much pleasure and so much pain. I come harder than I ever have this time. My back covered in heated welts when he drags his fingers down and pulls off the wax while he shoves his cock inside of me. And then he’s fucking me again. His hips jarring against my ass. I have to grip the desk to keep myself in place.
I think he’s going to come, but he doesn’t. He flips me back over and lifts me into his arms, holding me close while he fucks me in the most intimate of positions. Face to face.
“I want to look at you,” he tells me. “I need you to always see me.”
He kisses me, and then he comes inside of me.
Then he lays me down on the desk and steps back.
“Stay like that,” he tells me as he sits back down in the chair. “I want to look at you.”
That’s what he says. But I have a feeling that isn’t the case at all. I have a feeling he put me in this position for a reason. Legs bent and knees up. He wants me to get pregnant. To have his baby. And yet, when he finishes with me here tonight, he will go to his room. And I, to mine. We will not have lingering conversation or touches because we are both afraid.
So I disobey him by sitting up and gathering up my clothes.
I can’t bring myself to leave without a word, so I lift my fingers up to touch his bruised and swollen face.
“I hope you made them pay.”
His eyes are tormented and filled with longing. For me.
But he does not act on it.
So I leave.
28
Alexei
“Talia has made breakfast this morning,” Magda announces cheerfully.
“She has?” I question, my lack of excitement clearly deflating hers.
She nods. “She is getting better.”
“It always gets better before it gets worse,” is my answer.
Magda frowns and then moves her attention to the reports I’m working on.
“You will eat together this morning,” she tells me.
I cock my head to the side, and she smiles.
“You must, Alexei. You must reward her progress. It is the only way.”
“My time and attention is not a reward.”
“I think Talia would disagree.”
I shift uncomfortably in my chair and glance out the window. The seasons have changed so quickly now that she’s here. Tonight is the Christmas party. Which she will attend with me. And do her duties as my wife. And for this reason, I tell myself, I will go downstairs and indulge her this once.
I can’t have her moods changing when I need her to play her part.
When I tell Magda this, she frowns.
I ignore it and file my papers away before going downstairs.
Talia is in the kitchen, just as Magda said. And in a good mood, just as Magda said. I turn to Magda, who is trailing behind me.
“You should not have left her alone in there,” I warn.
Again, she frowns.
“It is not an act, Alyoshka.” She shakes her head. “She is getting better.”
“Until she finds a knife to set herself free.”
I do not wait for Magda’s response. Instead, I take a seat at the table, unsure what else to do. I usually dine in my office unless there is company. Magda delivers my meals, and I rarely give it any thought. But now, I feel uncomfortable. Out of place. Watching her move around the kitchen.
When she turns around and looks my way, there is flour on her nose and shirt. And some sort of batter tangled in her hair.
But also, a smile on her face.
I clear my throat to hide my own.
“Good, they are all ready now,” Talia says. And then she delivers a heaping plate of fresh waffles to the table, followed by a bowl of Strawberries.
I reach for one waffle, and she stares at me. So I take another. Magda does the same, and we all eat in silence.
During the meal, I watch Talia carefully. Her good mood dissipates quickly. Magda glances at me, silently telling me to do something. But I don’t know the answer. So we wait in stillness.
And eventually, Talia speaks. Trapped by old memories. Locked inside the darkness in her head.
“She made waffles that day,” she says, as though she is just remembering.
She blinks up at me with glassy eyes. “I should have known, because she made waffles.”