Page 76 of Reverence

“We always ended up vertical somewhere. Do you ever wonder why it was standing wall sex for us?” Katarina’s voice was teasing, but Juliette heard the past tense and the melancholy and wanted none of it. She also didn’t want any more questions, or words.

She had no business being here, no business talking to Katarina Vyatka. And so she walked them backward in the direction of what looked like the doorway to the bedroom, and once Katarina fell on top of her, Juliette flipped them, prompting one of the low moans that always turned her insides to fire.

She moved past the remains of the blouse, the bustier she had dragged down, licking and biting, leaving a trail of little angry marks in her wake. Katarina seemed to revel in the roughness, writhing on the fresh-scented cotton, her fingers tangled in the sheets, seeking purchase.

Juliette did not bother with the skirt, simply pushing it up, and the garters and stockings waiting for her underneath took her breath away. She let her head drop on the satin ribbons for a second, breathing Katarina in, drinking in the scent she knew so well. Katarina wanting her. Katarina wet for her. Katarina desperate for her.

And Juliette knew it was all mirrored in her. She wanted, she was wet, and she was desperate. She pushed the drenched silk to the side and licked.

Katarina screamed, Juliette licked again, her tongue firm, her fingers clasping the pale thighs, leaving bruises.

The taste she knew she’d never be able to forget—now on her tongue and all over her face, as she kept licking and sucking on the tender flesh—brought back the memories of the simple happiness, of the joy and the love they had shared on Rue de Rivoli, and the magic of these memories erased the years between them. She was Juliette Lucian-Sorel, and KatarinaVyatka was her lover. They were in love, they were successful, they had the world at their feet.

Juliette spread Katarina’s legs wider, and this time her impatience drove her to rip the panties, making Katarina let out a peel of laughter that ended on another moan as Juliette ran a finger slit to clit and then back down, spreading the wet and the hot desire, before leaning down again and inhaling her. Katarina panted, and Juliette smiled against the trembling flesh.

She drew the straining clit into her mouth and then slowly slid one, two, three fingers into Katarina, who covered her mouth with her palm, biting her own hand.

Juliette’s smile turned to a smirk and she lapped harder, curling the fingers in rhythm even as the thighs trembled and the body she held down bowed back like a string. When she let go and resorted to quick, firm flicks to the very tip of the clit, Katarina came.

The ice blue eyes watched hers through climax, never closing, the muscles around her fingers clamped tight and the hands tangled in the sheets gripped so hard that Juliette could have sworn she heard the cotton tear, and yet, Katarina made no sound. Her mouth opened in a silent cry, she slumped back on the bed, and for the next minute or two their breathing and the Manhattan traffic were the only sounds permeating the room.

When Juliette finally raised her face, Katarina’s eyes were closed and her mouth was bleeding, the tiny rivulet of blood marring the perfect skin.

Why did they always make each other bleed? Hadn’t Juliette bled enough for the two of them? She shook her head at the foolishness of her own thoughts and sat down, her back to Katarina.

This resolved nothing. As much as she delighted in still being able to make Katarina surrender, in the big scheme of things itmeant nothing, and if anything, the chasm between them was wider than ever.

She sat motionless, arms on her knees, bent over the edge of the bed. Behind her, the rustling of clothes told her Katarina was setting herself to rights.

She settled down next to Juliette, promptly crossing her legs after sliding the mangled pair of underwear off them. She dropped the ruined lace between them like evidence of a crime slammed by a prosecutor on the table for the defendant to confess. Juliette bit the inside of her cheek to keep from speaking.

What could she say anyway? That she loved Katarina and had loved her for the past seven years? That she had come here to exact punishment for breaking her heart and yet she only hurt herself in the process? That she wanted Katarina to make love to her more than anything but knew she couldn’t allow a single caress because Juliette felt she’d die if Katarina touched her again?

And yet Katarina sat still, that grace in repose she possessed on display to its full perfection. That grace she used to outwait and outwit her rival. Juliette felt the tears sting the back of her eyes. They had always been rivals, no matter how many times they fucked.

It was Katarina who lifted her face and looked straight into the nothingness of the empty hotel room wall and spoke first.

“I had surgery, Juliette.”

The sentence seemed so out of place, and yet… Funny how years later and still Juliette knew exactly what Katarina was talking about.

“Cervical hernia?” There was noI told you soin Juliette’s voice, just an honest question, and Katarina nodded before drawing in a deep breath and venturing a reply.

“I have had it since I was a child.” She smiled, but her eyes were distant and cold. “When they came to arrest my father… They had to hold me back. I strained too hard against the arm of the agent trying to stop me from running to him. And I was afraid that it would prevent me from dancing. The more I danced, the better I got. And the worse my neck got. Ironically, it became my calling card to the world. Katarina Vyatka’s révérence. I was too scared to?—”

“To have it treated because you thought it would stop you from dancing. And if you weren’t dancing, you thought you’d not be needed anymore. And that you’d not be able to escape. I’m sorry, Katarina.”

And she was. Juliette felt the confession like a blow to her solar plexus. Was anything in the life of this woman not marred by the pain and horror of where she came from?

“I hated you so much for guessing it. For seeing through my bow, for seeing through me. I hated you because I was afraid of you, Juliette. Afraid you’d expose me. I guess I was right to be scared. Even if for other reasons.”

Juliette felt the walls of the small room close in on her, the ceiling threatening to choke her any minute. She wanted to say something. How Katarina should never have been afraid of her, that Juliette would never hurt her. Except she had. And Katarina had been right all along.

“I take it you’re done, Juliette.” There was no question mark at the end of the sentence. And the way it echoed Juliette’s own question at the hospital, about being finished with ballet… Well, it made sense. She was done with both.

Juliette had no idea what to say to that, and Katarina went on. “Is this what you came here for? To prove to me you can still have me? I don’t think there was any doubt of that.”

Juliette licked her suddenly dry lips, the taste of Katarina lingering. A blessing and a curse. Perhaps more the latter thanthe former. And the sheer truth of how much she wanted more, how much she wanted to let go and reach for Katarina again lit another match under the banking coals of her regret.

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