Page 45 of Dimitri
Dimitri does that. He just wishes it wasn’t true.
He hasn’t looked at me the same since Thursday night. Other than ordering for my hair to be peroxided back to the blonde coloring it had been in the alleyway over a year ago, he enters our shared room well after the noise in this fortress-like bunker dies down and exits long before a member of his staff enters with my breakfast.
It feels as if I could stand in front of him naked, and he wouldn’t notice me. He hasn’t even checked to see if the chemical peel a well-known dermatologist placed on my scar worked, and he paid out the ass for an emergency appointment.
I guess his rejection should be expected. If someone repulses you, the last thing you’d ever feel for them is desire.
With another sigh, I shift my eyes to watch a middle-aged European woman exit my room. The brittle beat of my pulse notches up a little when I fail to hear the lock latching into place before her shadow disappears from underneath my door. I’m usually confined to my room, the order to keep me under lock and key handed down from above. No one here would ever do anything to defy Dimitri because they fear him as much as I do. There’s just one difference. Their fear is that he will kill them. Mine is that he’ll never look at me like he did in the alleyway over a year ago.
Forever curious, and somewhat willing to break the rules with the hope of forcing a response out of Dimitri, I throw my legs off the bed I’m sitting on before tiptoeing across the room.
My heart rate jumps into a cantor when the lowering of the door handle isn’t hindered by a reinforced latch. I’m uncuffed, and my door isn’t fastened by prison-like bolts.
After a quick breather to ensure I don’t collapse from a lack of oxygen to my brain, I carefully peel open the door. This could be a test, however failing has never scared me. As long as you get back up, you can fall as many times as you’d like.
The party-like atmosphere I’ve heard through the floor of my room the past three nights booms into my ears the more I move down the corridor. The ambiance gives off an elegant, ritzy feeling compared to the grittiness of a nightclub. It probably helps that this fortress is more suitable for a king than rough-and-ready mafia men. The drapes are thick and expensive, and all the fittings are top-of-the-line. So much detail has been placed in every inch of this hallway, I’m confident in saying it’s better fitted than my apartment building and ten times more expensive.
Although I’m not dressed as flashy as the people milling around, they let me slip by with only the quickest glance. There’s too much beauty to drink in to worry about little ole me ruining the glamourous atmosphere.
“Hello,” I murmur to a couple getting friendly against the wall leading to the curved stairwell.
Who am I to judge their hookup location? At least they’re under the privacy of someone’s residence.
When I leap off the final stair, I take an urgent step back. Dimitri is in a formal sitting area to the right of the stairwell. He’s swirling an amber-colored liquid around a whiskey glass while talking to a group of men. Although the closest women to him are several feet away, an intense rage of jealousy blasts through my veins. All the women are topless, and their pleated miniskirts leavenothingto the imagination. I’m not going to mention how they can’t take their eyes off Dimitri, or I might do something more stupid than cry into the chest of a cartel kingpin.
Certain I’ll be booted from festivities the instant Dimitri spots me, I head in the direction opposite to the room he’s seated in. Even with most of Dimitri’s ‘guests’ not speaking English, it appears as if they’re having a good time. The gaming area is overflowing with men placing bets at a line of craps tables while smoking cigars. Unlike the room Dimitri is in, the topless women in this part of the compound are either seated on the men’s laps or accepting their bets.
The further I travel, the more excitement slicks my skin. This is unlike any party I’ve ever been to, but it doesn’t make it any less exhilarating. Think of the dirtiest, riskiest, most all-out naughtiest event you’ve ever wished to attend. Now double it. That’ll give you an idea of the ‘festivities’ Dimitri and his guests are being wooed with.
It’s as if Vegas and Times Square had a baby. Everything you could possibly want is in the one space—scantily dressed women dancing in crystal birdcages, acrobatic gymnasts daringly floating above your head, bloody men fighting bare-knuckled in a UFC-authentic cage, and gambling is in abundance.
There’s even sex if you enter the right room.
Hot, raunchy, sweat-producing sex.
I hesitate for a beat before entering the square box with only one solid wall. Although the couple going for it in clear-view for all to see are too engrossed with each other to pay me any attention, I can’t help but wonder if I’m walking headfirst into a trap.
With how much sexually stimulating content this party is pumping out, I’m not surprised a viewing area I’ve only ever read about is empty. I’m more disappointed than anything. The priciest artwork can’t compete with the beauty of two bodies intimately joining.
After wetting my dry lips, I enter the sex-scented space, willing to take a risk even if it kills me. With three out of four walls being floor-to-ceiling glass, I’m soon awarded an unimpeded view of three couples in various stages of undress. The cube on my right has a topless blonde on her knees about to suck the cock of a man whose mask is shielding half his attractive face.
The couple directly in front of me is ticking off every office romance novel checklist. A brunette with lace-topped stockings and black-rimmed glasses has her thong-covered backside planted on a desk covered in papers while an almost still fully clothed dark-haired man in a fiercely cut suit pounds into her. She calls him ‘boss’ on repeat while he refers to her as his ‘naughty little secretary.’
Although the two exchanges I just told you about are appealing to the eye, the couple on my left is far more interesting. They’re not just producing a feast for the eyes with needy grabs and fluidly precise rocks of their hips, they have my ears satisfied as well. They’re the most vocal of the group, and if the way the orange-haired man has his partner bent over the couch is anything to go by, this isn’t the first time they’ve fucked. They move together so well, I’m mesmerized by them in under a minute. It’s a beautiful scene of pounding flesh, light-altering eyes, and moans I’ve only heard leave my mouth once before.
If I had a sketchpad and a chunk of charcoal at the ready, I’d be in my ideal fantasy. I don’t care that they’re fucking or that I’m sneakily witnessing them at their most venerable. It’s the raw magnificence of the exchange I’m paying attention to. The way sweat rolls down the blonde’s temples every time the man plunges his veiny penis inside her, how the light above their heads enhances the wetness on his thick shaft, and then there’s their undeniable connection. It’s so blistering hot, my skin perspires as if I have just ran a marathon.
The heat bouncing off them has my temperature rising as rapidly as my panic when the only shroud of light lighting up the room is suddenly blanketed by a large, brooding frame. The poor condition means I can barely see an inch of my approacher’s face, however I don’t need to see his features to know who he is. His aura is telling enough.
“I kept your name off the guest list to ensure you didn’t end up in this room, and where do you venture to the instant you’re freed from captivity?” I can’t see Dimitri’s face, but I can imagine his scold when he answers his question on my behalf. “In the very room you have no right to be in.”
When he enters the space now feeling ten times smaller, the sound of skin slapping skin fades into the background. I can’t hear anything but my raging pulse. Dimitri’s eyes are holding the same murderous gleam they had when Eddie found my clit, and his jaw is so firm, I’m afraid it’s about to crack.
I discover the reason for his fury when he slants his head to the side and growls, “Get out.”
Sickness rolls through my stomach when a man I hadn’t noticed in the corner of the black space stands from a chair. Even with conditions being poor, my eyes have adjusted enough to the dark to understand his intentions. The crotch of his trousers is extended past the length of his zipper, and his belt is undone and hanging loosely in front of his stout thighs.
Although he’s as tall as Dimitri and almost as wide, he appears the size of a dwarf when he commences shimmying past Dimitri’s ominous frame. Dimitri could take a step to the side to give him a clear passage, but he won’t. He won’t do anything that will risk him taking his scorning eyes off me. He’s pissed the stranger witnessed my immorality, and he’s more than happy to make sure I’m aware of that.
