There’s lust here, yes. She can’t fake that. But something else too. Because she’s trying to distract and seduce me. It’s working. My cock is an iron bar as she pulls her dress over her head in one swift movement, leaving her white lace knickers and matching bra.
“So beautiful.” I beckon her to me. I don’t know what she’s planning, but I don’t think it has to do with Tottenham. Not after the way her father treated her.
She slips her fingers into the hem of her knickers, still too far away to touch, and a bit shy. Her movements are slow when I’m growing more impatient by the second.
“Now, ptichka.”
8
LOTTE
Sexy. Alive. Strong. The best version of myself. That’s me, as I shimmy to him. I’m a cocktail of poison, happiness, mania, sexual high, and thrumming fear. Just before I’m within his reach, I unclip my bra and pull it off. It’s not elegant, because I’m nervous and I have to run my hand over where the blade is hidden.
I discard the bra in as casual a way as possible, on the bed. Then I’m in his arms, pulled onto his lap, and his mouth is on mine. I melt, physically. I dissolve. It takes all my effort to retain the tiniest bit of mental clarity as I remove his clothes.
It’s a tussle, as Nik only wants to pleasure me. He has his hands making the sweetest mischief all over my body.
He chuckles as I struggle with his cufflinks, snapping them off for me when I make an incoherent sound of frustration. For some reason he has to be naked for this. Why, I can’t remember, but it’s critical.
There’s no time to pause and admire his chest as I manage to get his shirt off. It’s all a blur of his musky scent, his hands, the desperation, and conflict to not be drugged by his kisses.
I fumble with his belt and my vision blurs. Shit, am I going to cry? I’m not. No way.
Nik covers my hands with his and the stillness means I realise I’m shaking.
“Are you sure?” he asks, low and intense. I don’t meet his eyes, but I can feel his gaze on me.
“Yes. I’m certain.” I am. I have to be.
Every part of me sings that this is right.
This act is easy.
That’s because it’s not fake, a little voice whispers. I shove the voice back into its box. It isn’t real. I can’t be in love with Nik. Wait, when did he become Nik and not the enemy or Nikolai?
I mean I want him. Not love, that’s—no. This helium balloon in my chest isn’t love.
He lets me pull his trousers and boxers off in one, and I’m unhinged, pushing him down on the bed. On his back, looking up at me, he ought to seem vulnerable. But he’s running his hands over me as I crawl over him and I’m desperately aware that I’m slight compared to his muscled body. He’s hard everywhere.
“My perfect wife,” he murmurs, reaching up and smoothing my hair away from my face. He smiles as it falls straight back, a wall of tendrils that mean I don’t have to look him in the eyes. I just give in to the urges of my body, and settle myself over him. My wet slit on the solid length of his cock.
He groans, and although a whimper escapes me simultaneously, I’m holding on. I shift my hand until I find my bra, even as I lean down and kiss him.
Tears prickle behind my eyelids. I screw them shut as I release the blade from its hiding place and before I can change my mind, I bring it to his throat.
As the cold metal touches his skin, everything stops.
Silence.
I open my eyes and draw my head back to find him watching me.
One breath.
Two.
I will myself to do it. My hand doesn’t move.
For my mother. For freedom.
