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"I could never let someone
mark me like that,
it would be bad for business."
- Natasha
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Chapter 9 - Trouble On Legs
▪️S E R G E Y▪️
I had no idea what I was doing, it was as though I were running on instinct.
Or rather all the blood had left my brain and had gone straight to my greedy cock. There was no other logical explanation for my current behaviour.
My fingers tightened slightly around Natasha's own, as though afraid to lose my grip.
Before I knew what was happening, I had led her away from the party and into the master bedroom which I would be occupying for the weekend. For a brief moment, I contemplated walking back out, not trusting myself to be alone with her.
Yet, upon glancing at her face once more, I quickly closed the door behind us.
The large room came with an en-suite bathroom and walk-in closet and there was a big four poster bed facing a wall of windows with a lovely view of the ocean. There were a few other pieces of furniture, such as a sideboard and side tables as well as a two-seater sofa with a coffee table.
Now that we were away from prying eyes, I hoped that we would be able to talk. Although the intense need I felt for her threatened to take over, so I quickly let go of her hand and walked towards the balcony doors.
I pushed open the glass panels and enjoyed the sound of the ocean before making my way to the sofa.
After placing my drink down on the coffee table, I took my black phone out of my pocket, and put it next to my glass. With my eyes still focused on Natasha, my right hand disappeared behind my back to pull my gun from the waistband of my boxers.
Natasha intently observed my every movement, though I saw her tense slightly upon seeing my weapon. Frowning slightly, I placed the pistol down next to my other items before angling myself over the plush cushions.
Sitting at the edge of the couch with my legs parted, my elbows rested on my knees while I clasped my hands in front of me. Biting the side of my bottom lip, my eyes trailed over her body once more and I could not deny it.
This woman was definitely trouble on legs.
With those long eyelashes and that pouty mouth of hers, she was so fucking gorgeous that I often could not stand to even be around her. Over the last few months, I battled with myself on what to do with Natasha.
Some days I wanted to make her moan and scream my name. Yet there were times where I just yearned to punish her for making me feel this way.
Even though there was an innocence about Natasha, I could not help but want to defile her and mark her as my own. It was that same innocence, however, that I wished to protect, especially from someone like me.
There was no doubt in my mind that bringing her into this room was a bad idea.
I wanted to pounce and ravish Natasha, while she seemed like she wanted to run away just from the very sight of me. The woman standing in front of me seemed skittish, her eyes looked away from me to survey our surroundings and I hated the thought that she might have been uncomfortable to be alone in a room with me.
Although, given the illicit thoughts I was having about her, it would be in her best interest to keep her distance.
The dim lights danced across her skin and my hands itched to grab her thick blonde hair which had been combed back into a sleek pony-tail. I wanted to wrap the silky mane around my wrist and tug her head back while I kissed her neck.
Instead, however, I briefly closed my eyes and exhaled deeply to refocus myself.
"Come here..." I said softly.
Licking her lips, Natasha did not hesitate to do as she was told and slowly walked towards me.
She stopped on the other side of the coffee table and bent forward to rest her glass next to mine. Even at this angle I could not see what she was wearing underneath and I found myself desperately wanting to view the outfit in person. However, I had to get something out of the way first.
"Is that why you came with the robe closed tonight? Because you thought you didn't look good?" I asked, my eyes lifting from her body to her face.
She did not reply, but simply nodded her head and twisted her fingers.
"Take the robe off..."
"What?" Natasha gasped, her eyebrows arching.
Leaning back, I widened my legs and spread my arms out along the headrest of the sofa. The movement caused my pyjama top to completely expose the front of my chest. Taking another deep breath, my fingers gripped each side of the sofa, willing my body to remain seated.
I looked up at her knowing that what I had just asked her to do was a bad idea. But fuck it, I had already come this far so I might as well dive into the fire, if only for a moment.
"You heard me, Natasha, don't make me repeat myself..."
My eyes never left hers as her hands fumbled to pull at the lapels of her black robe. Noticing how jumpy she seemed to be standing in front of me, I could not help but enquire.
"Why are you nervous, it's just me."
It was then that her fingers paused, the front of the robe opening, giving me a small glimpse of the beautiful black bustier she wore underneath.
"Exactly..."
With just one word, I felt as though she had slapped me across the face. I tried to hide the grimace her response had caused, but I was clearly not fast enough as she spoke once more, seeming to want to explain her answer.
"I care about your opinion, Sergey," Natasha whispered.
Damn, I really was the reason that she left her robe closed tonight, I thought to myself. It became clear to me that by not replying to her message, she had assumed that I did not think that she looked good.
Frowning slightly, I cursed myself for making her feel insecure and I quickly got up and walked around the coffee table to stand in front of her.
My fingers itched to touch her, but Natasha's sudden question made me halt my movements.
"Had fun in the last night or so?"
I was about to ask her what she meant when I noticed where her eyes were focused.
All of her attention was suddenly fixated on the large hickey that Aleksandr had left on my neck. Perhaps I was imagining things, but I could have sworn that I saw something like possessiveness flickering in Natasha's beautiful eyes.
No, the look that she was giving me was not that of a jealous woman, but of one who wanted to put her own mark on me. Or at least I was ninety-five percent certain.
Unsure of how to reply, I decided to go with the best answer, the truth.
"I did."
She sighed, then said in a voice so soft that I did not think that she meant for me to hear, "Lucky woman..."
If only she knew, I thought to myself.
It was as though Natasha realised that she spoke out loud, for she visibly shook her head and sputtered, "Forgive me, it's none of my business who you sleep with."
"You're right, it's not..." I countered then added, "Just as it's not my business to care about who you share your body with."
Natasha said, "Indeed, although I could never let someone mark me like that, it would be bad for business."
"Bad for business indeed," I murmured, my right hand unconsciously raised to trail my fingers across the front of her throat before sliding over to her left shoulder.
Taking my time, I enjoyed the softness of her skin while the tips of my fingers moved to gently trace over the soft material of her robe. I wanted nothing more than to rip the garment and devour the sight of her body under the dim lights.
"May I take this off?"
"Please..." Natasha's reply sounded more like a plea and I found myself breathing deeply.
Placing both of my hands on her shoulders, I leisurely pushed the robe down her arms until I heard the sound of the material hitting the floor. Taking a few steps back, my eyes roamed over her body and as she tried to raise her arms to cover her breasts, I scowled and shook my head.
"Don't you dare hide from me!" I said, my voice husky.
Natasha bit her bottom lip and she formed fists with her hands before slowly lowering them back to her sides.
Now that I stood in front of her, I could see the design of her bustier up close and my eyes zeroed in on the patterned swirls and lines covering her breasts. Her areolas were so tiny–at least compared to what I was used to–the rosy circles were not that much bigger than the pad of my thumb.
Hell, she had more nipple than areola and I found myself wanting to latch on to her.
My mouth watered to taste her, eager to see her back arch while I tried to fit as much of her delectable breast into my mouth as I could. Unable to control my body's reaction any longer, the material of my pyjama pants tightened as my manhood began to throb and harden.
Feeling my thoughts beginning to spiral, I cleared my throat.
"I don't usually apologise, but I want to say I'm sorry. When you sent me the photo earlier, I didn't reply because it surprised me, not because I thought you didn't look good, because you do. Fuck me you do..."
Letting out a ragged breath, she asked, "You really think I look nice?"
"Did I not just say that?" I laughed softly then added, "Shit, right now, I'm really trying to hold back from touching you."
"Why? I wouldn't mind if you did..."
A breathy laugh escaped me, "Natasha, we both know that I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"There's no difference really," I said, forcing myself to remain still.
"Are you sure it's not because my breasts are small? I'm not offended by your preference for–"
Cutting her off, I growled, "You're fucking perfect!"
Natasha's eyes widened at my declaration and her cheeks became even more flushed than they already were. However, within the next moment, it was as though a sudden realisation entered her mind.
I watched as something unreadable flicked in her gaze while the corners of her lips turn down slightly. The question coming out of her mouth was said with such sadness that I felt something in my chest clench.
"Is it because I'm a prostitute?"
The way she looked at me rendered me almost speechless and I found myself stumbling to say the right words. It would seem that Natasha took my shock for validation as she quickly continued.
"I mean I get it; I know I'm not smart and sophisticated like the women you date–"
Something inside of me snapped and I closed the distance between us in a few quick steps, my hands cupping her face to cut her off.
"You're not a prostitute!" I snarled before adding in a calmer tone, "You're an escort! You provide companionship, not sex! Sure, if you and a client decide on doing such then fine, but that is not the service that they're paying for."
In a soft voice, she replied, "Yes, but to most people, an escort is just an upscale prostitute, a whor–"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" I said, my thumbs gently skimming across her cheeks. "You must not let the words of others get to you; do you understand me? Fuck society and their so-called rules, I don't care how many men you've fucked."
It was true, I did not care how many men Natasha had slept with.
What she did with her body was her choice. The problem, unfortunately, was that once I allowed myself to touch her, I knew that I would never be able to let her go, she would be mine.
I was selfish like that!
Nonetheless, as self-centred as I was, I would not allow my voracity to corrupt her. I did not want my inability to share her to turn into me controlling her. Natasha deserved to be free, to live her life however she wished and I had vowed to keep her safe and protected, even if from afar.
It would be wrong of me to ask her to stop working for Aleksandr. What the fuck was I even thinking?
No, it was unrealistic to think that anything could ever happen between Natasha and myself. I had never even been in a committed relationship, and here I was thinking about playing house. There was no way I would be able to give her what she deserved.
"If you say you don't care about how many men I've fucked, why the hesitation to touch me?" Natasha asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
The unexpected feel of her palms against the bare skin of my abdomen caused a slight jolt through me. I held still while she slowly moved her hands over the contours of my abs, her fingertips gently trailing up, touching the various tattoos that adorned my chest.
I remained motionless as her fingers continued to move, now bringing them to my forearms, sliding down to rest over my hands that were cupping her face. Natasha sighed softly, then turned her face slightly to press her lips against the centre of my right palm.
Her touch was as addictive as expected and I was painfully hard as a result.
"Sergey?" Natasha called my name again, making me realise that I still had not said anything.
Biting back a groan, I quickly tried to find the right words. But the way she suddenly moved my hands from her face, pushing them down her body so that my palms now rested on her breasts, had me sputtering.
"Wait, are you trying to seduce me?" I could not help but ask.
"Maybe..." Natasha replied, her eyes roamed down the front of my body.
I watched the way she visibly gulped when she saw the imprint of my erection along my thigh. The soft material of my grey pyjama pants did nothing to hide my arousal.
My own eyes moved to look at how large my hands appeared as they touched her body.
The dark tattoos on the back of my fingers contrasted against the smooth paleness of her skin. I could feel my self-control slipping as I gently fondled her, allowing myself to briefly indulge in the feeling of her body before hastily removing my hands.
When I spoke, I hated how hoarse my voice sounded, "Let me stop you right there, Natasha. Whatever ideas you've gotten into your head about us, abandon them now."
Pouting up at me, she asked, her hands moving to unclasp the bustier, "What if I don't?"
"I can assure you that I won't change my mind!" I said while grabbing her.
Using my left hand, I held both of her wrists, preventing her from getting undressed, while I bent down to pick up her discarded robe with my free hand. With a frown I jaggedly placed the robe over her shoulders, forcing her arms through the sleeves before tying the lapels tightly.
Grabbing her by the elbow, I ignored the way she repeatedly said my name while I guided her through the bedroom. With more force than necessary, I jerked open the door then gently shoved her out into the seemingly vacant hallway.
"Don't let me drag you into an empty room again!" I whispered harshly before shutting the door in her face.
Storming towards the balcony, I let out a sound of frustration but stopped upon seeing my reflection on one of the small wall mirrors. With a sneer, I could not help but softly scold myself for being a fool.
"Durak ti, Seryi..."
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A/N: Le sigh... 😅
The Russian phrase, "Durak ti" means, 'that's so foolish of me'.