Page 27 of Dima's Vision
Blinking my vision clear, the throbbing dissipates completely until I’m staring at Gretchen coming toward me, water rolling off her body, her rough skin glistening in the sun. She movescloser, tail making a softswish swishthrough the grass, stopping once she’s in front me of, snout very close to my dangling feet.
“Well, girl,” I murmur gently to her, “that was fucking weird. You ever get moments like that?” Her reptilian eyes blink, her attention still on me. “Probably not. I like what you did back there. Really respect your work, lady.”
She makes a soft chuffing noise, before she turns, heading back to the water. Just as I wonder if she gets lonely, another much larger body appears, this gator massive and somehow scary. He moves toward Gretchen and they walk side by side, slipping back into the water, together.
“Well, I didn’t see that coming,” I say to myself.
I mean, if Gretchen can find a partner who will stick with her through thick, thin and her murderous phases, could I possibly find one too?
“Penny for your thoughts?” Dima’s lightly accented voice drifts through the still air, over my right shoulder.
I don’t turn to look at him, because there’s no point. I can feel him with every part of me. It’s like a feeling of peace settles over me when he’s near.
“Thought you were at the clubhouse.”
“I was, but I brought you a plate. Can’t have you killing people on an empty stomach.”
I smile as he sits next to me, his long legs dangling, feet touching the ground. “Good thinking.”
He offers me a plate of ribs, slaw and a roll. “So, who’s next?”
I think for a moment, wondering who is next. There are at least four more on my family list and I’m not very picky about what order I do them in.
“Massimo Martella. He’s one of the higher ups according to the whispers.”
“Massimo it is then,” Dima smiles, watching as I pick up a rib and tear into the meat with my teeth.
We sit there, side by side, staring out at the water. It strikes me again how comfortable I am with Dima. He doesn’t talk to fill the dead air. He’s happy to just be with his own thoughts. Mine on the other hand bounce around between what I need to do. Locating Massimo, the floor plan of his whereabouts, the best way to get in and out to get the job done. That’s not even mentioning whatever that weird headache and vision thing was that I had.
Shaking my head I finish my meal, hands a mess from the delicious barbecue sauce on the ribs. I place the paper plate to my left, then busy myself licking sauce from my fingers.
“Kristie, fuck,” Dima groans beside me and I try to hide my smirk and I slow my movements down just a little. I know what I’m doing.
My eyes dart to Dima’s trousers, his thickening cock visible through the fabric as he shifts his hips, either trying to hide the effect I’m having on him, or trying to find a more comfortable position for his hardness.
“What?” I ask, eyes wide and as innocent as they can be.
A look crosses Dima’s face, one of pure determination. He reaches out, snagging my hand, bringing it to his lips. His tongue darts out, licking up my index finger before sucking it into his mouth and then releasing it with a gentle “pop”. He moves on to the next finger, then the next and damn if my pussy isn’t clenching with the need to be filled by Dima. Any part of Dima. This is how dangerous he is. Never once in my life have I ever felt this level of need for any other person. Not even La Madrina and she has fantastic tits.
He moves to my other hand, allowing me to twine my fingers through his hair, guiding his lips to mine once he finished his ministrations. The kiss starts off gentle, the taste of barbecuesauce tangy on his tongue as it slides against mine. The soft, gentle kiss fades as my hunger for him takes over and I find myself in his lap, thighs spread, his hard cock pressing against the seam of my jeans and my aching pussy.
“Dima, I need you,” I whisper when I tear my lips from his.
He pulls back, staring intently at me. He scoops me up under my arms, gently placing me to the side of him so he can hurriedly undo his trousers, shimmy them and his boxers down slightly so his cock is freed. The length flush against his belly, the happy trail wet with precum.
Ugh, he looks so fucking delicious. I stand, toe off one of my boots, tear down my zipper and pull my jeans down far enough to be able to free one leg. I straddle Dima’s slim hips, his wet crown kissing my pussy lips momentarily before slipping between them, nudging my clit as I rock back and forth a little, making sure I’m wet enough to take him. Ha! Who the hell am I kidding?
I raise up on my knees a little, grip the base of him in my fist and aim for my opening, sinking down as soon as his crown comes into contact with the part of me that needs him most.
He grips the back of my neck tight, almost painfully as he groans long and low against my throat.
“Ah,Ved’mochka, you feel so good,” he whispers as he drops gentle kisses along the column of my throat.
My movements are slow, deliberate as I ride him in the open air, the warm breeze cooling the sweat on our faces, the gentle water sounds soothing as we rock our way to completion, as one soul, one being. Both gifted and cursed, exquisite torture at how we complete each other and yet we can never be.
“Kristiana, look at me,” Dima’s low voice, the slight Russian accent pulls me from my spiraling thoughts.
I blink my eyes open, a burn in my throat, vision blurring with the tears pooled in my eyes.
