Page 88 of Deceitful Vows

Gigi returns my hug before she whispers that only a sadist would enjoy a painful wax session. Then she shifts her focus to her blood.

“I’m so proud of you, darling.” Stupid wetness mists my eyes for the second time when she cups Nikita’s cheeks with her hands before she brushes their noses together.

Eskimo kisses were one of Nikita’s mother’s favorite ways to say goodbye.

I miss them as much as I do her, so I can only imagine the emotions Gigi’s farewell bombards Nikita with.

“You good?” I ask Nikita as we exit the basement apartment shoulder to shoulder.

“Yeah,” she whispers softly, her mind deep in thought. “Are you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shoves open the door at the side of the main entrance before pulling up the collar of her winter coat to protect her glossy locks from the cool winds. “You waxed.”

“Yeah. And?” I smile when she gets annoyed at me for tossing back to her one of the many neuroses she hands me every day, before saying, “Hairy vaginas went out of fashion decades ago.”

“Yeah, but…”

I wave my hand through the air, encouraging her to continue.

She follows along nicely. “You’re going out tonight. You don’t usually wax when you are going out.” I realize my excentric personality is beginning to rub off on her when she says, “The only day you get a Brazilian is the day you don’t want sex. It’s your birthday. You have plans, and you look like that”—she drags her hand down my body—“so why today of all days did you wax?”

It takes me longer than I care to admit to come up with an excuse. “Everyone’s pain tolerance is different?” Since my reply is more a question than a confirmation, it sounds like one. “And by the time the concert is over, it’ll be close to twenty-four hours since you were up in my business.”

She scoffs before walking faster. “I wasnotup in your business.”

“You were so far up there I was beginning to wonder if you were giving me a pap smear.”

Nikita stops walking and turns to face me. “Talking about pap smears?—”

“Nope.” I shake my head in disgust. “We’re not going there, and you’re not doing that.Ever.”

“I’m a trained professional.”

“I don’t care if you are the highest paid escort in the country, you’re not stickinganythinginside me, let alone an ice-cold duck beak and a kitchen scraper. I don’t swing that way.”

Well, I didn’t.

Andrik said he’d kill anymanwho came between us.

He didn’t mention women.

It’s a pity I love dick more than a Celine Dion mega fan or I could have closed my eyes and pretended mouth stimulation alone would take care of an itch no amount of self-stimulation has scratched over the past five weeks.

My self-loathing party ends when Nikita grumbles, “Says the lady who rode my leg all the way to climax station this morning.” She shudders like she walked through a cobweb.

“I wasn’t close to climax. Your disgusted howl cut the journey short. I was a mere minute from saving you from the need to shower.” When she appears lost, I ask, “Is squirting a medical term, or should I refer to it as?—”

Her hand shoots up to clamp my mouth before I get out all my question. Then her motherly eyes hit their full potential. “Because it is your birthday, I’m going to act like we’re not having this conversation outside my place of employment. Behave, be safe, and message me when you get home. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll most likely be awake, anyway.”

I pretend that my message isn’t ten minutes from being sent since Lilia gave me the night off for my birthday.

My agreeing gesture appeases Nikita enough to lower her hand from my mouth. “I love you, Z.” She wraps me up in a warm hug. “Happy birthday.”

“I love you too.” I return her hug before pushing her into the hospital entrance only used by staff. “Now get out of here before Boris works out why you don’t use the main entrance anymore.”

Boris is lovely, but if Andrik had his face, keeping his dick in his pants wouldn’t be an issue for him. I doubt even his wife would want to give it up.

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