Page 19 of Dmitri

“I said, ‘tempted’. Mikhail and I are close, but there’s no way I’d share your body and screams. They belong to me.”

When we got home, I made sure to make her scream only for me, over and over again.

Chapter Nine

Cora

I’ve been here for three weeks, and I never want to leave. Although Dmitri speaks as if we’re going to get married, he hasn’t actually proposed or anything serious. Still, he trusts me enough to give me my phone back which does my heart a world of good. I’m in love with him. We haven’t said the words, but I truly feel his love every single day.

I climb out of bed a little late, and it’s all Dmitri’s fault. Before he left for work, he devoured my pussy and then we made love. He was running late himself. Still, he couldn’t resist giving one more orgasm, and then I fell back into a blissful sleep.

It’s already eleven, but I’m not scheduled to be anywhere, so I can lounge about. Last week, I called my job on the phone in Dmitri’s office, and I apologized for not returning their calls. They had already fired me, but it wasn’t a big deal since I was a server at a local chain restaurant, and my weekly check was pennies to Dmitri. They easily replaced me after my first no-call no show.

Since I have nothing to do all day I spend most of my time making notes for my book. I’ve always wanted to be an author, but I’ve been working every night and going to school. “One day,” I whisper to myself.

Languidly, I drag myself into the shower and let the hot water soothe my aching muscles. Sex twice a day is extremely exhausting, but damn is it heaven. Scrubbing my body, I noticed several of his marks on me. The bruises on my thighs are the best because he’s holding onto me firmly as he slams me down on his stiff cock. My hand reaches between my thighs as the ache builds, but I’m stopped by the sound of my cell phone.

It rings loudly, vibrating against the bathroom counter, so I jump out of the shower, thinking it’s Dmitri, but it’s not. My stepfather’s number appears and my heart jumps and my body freezes. I refuse to answer it and leave it on the bathroom vanity. I finish my shower and then it rings again. It’s a number from back home that I don’t recognize. The caller leaves a message, so I check it.

“Cora dear, please call me. The man you’re with is a liar and a killer. You’re not safe.”It’s my stepfather who obviously is calling from a different number. I would believe his words if it wasn’t for the documents they showed me or the pictures at the hotel.

I ignore the message and get dressed. The entire time I considered calling Dmitri and telling him about it, but he’s busy and I don’t want to bother him. I’ve learned a little about what he does, and I’m impressed. He’s out here creating empires, one building at a time.

It's nearly noon when I leave our bedroom. “Good afternoon, Ms. Hardwick,” Margaret says as I reach the bottom step.

Mikhail went with him so I’m alone with the housekeeper, Margaret. She’s a sweet woman who comes to clean and then leaves. Tomas should be in the kitchen making lunch and prepping meals for the next two days since he’s off.

“Please, I must insist you call me Cora,” I say.

“Cora, Tomas should be done with lunch momentarily. Do you need anything from me before I leave?” she asks.

“No, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome. It’s my pleasure to see Dmitri with someone. I thought he and Mikhail would be alone forever. Now Mikhail will hopefully be next.”

“Next for what?” Mikhail asks, stepping into the room with an apple in his hand.

“We’re hoping you find someone too. Where’s Dmitri?”

“He has other matters to attend to before coming back. I need some documents before heading into town. I might find a girl one day, but I’m not sure it’s a good thing. They distract you too much.” He smiles and then walks away taking another bite of his apple.

“We’ll find him a girl,” I say.

“Yes, we will,” Margaret says with a conspiratorial smirk.

As we part ways I wish her a happy birthday since she’ll be off next week. I sneak into the kitchen quietly while Tomas is stirring the sauce on the stove.

“Boo,” I called out.

He practically jumps out of his skin, sending the wooden spoon into the air and sauce everywhere. Rapid Italian falls from his lips as he curses me out. I giggled and apologized.

“I’m truly sorry.”

“I am the one who is sorry. My language was inappropriate.”

“It was funny, though.”

“It would be, if I was the one doing the scaring,” he says, smiling and stirring the pot on the stove.

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