ROMANCE: BIKER ROMANCE: Werewolf Rider (MC Shifter Pregnancy Romance) (New Adult Paranormal Romance Short Stories) (104 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

On the other side of the room, Aleksey Andropov, the redhead that Natalya was fixating on, listened intently to the director’s speech, though he had no clue what the man was saying. 

Aleksey smiled and nodded when the others did.  He assumed this to be the correct and polite thing to do. 

Aleksey had worked hard to build his muscles and his mind, though for the life of him, he couldn’t grasp English or French, no matter how hard he tried.

He was a boxer in his youth and had been able to maintain his body in excellent form, though his boxing days were far behind him now. 

He trained with weights every day, ran five miles, watched his diet, all to keep his body in peak condition; and to fight the aging process, which seemed to get harder with each passing year.

He knew he looked better than most men half his age, and his confidence needed no boosting.  That’s why there was no need for him to try and be the center of attention in situations such as this.

People came to him without invitation, women noticed him even when he just stood somewhere quietly by himself, and he never had to beg for anyone’s attention or approval.  Rarely was he without the company of a beautiful woman.  Getting sex was easy.  It was finding someone he would commit to that was hard. 

Aleksey turned into a man early in his life, as he had to.  He grew up in a small village in the Ural Mountains, close to the Kazakh border. 

His father was an unemployed drunk who liked to beat up his wife and children.  Until one day when Aleksey had had enough.  He was thirteen years old when he decided not to let this happen anymore. 

He trained in a rundown boxing camp on the outskirts of his village.  He trained every day, often imagining his father’s face on the punching bag he was beating to a pulp. 

When his father came home drunk in the middle of the night and attacked Aleksey’s mother, the boy was more than willing to show his father everything he had learned.  His mother and brothers had to pull him off his father before he killed him with his bare fists. 

His father left the same night and never came back.  God only knows where he had ended up and if he was still alive. 

Aleksey thought his family would be able to live in peace now that his father wasn’t around.  Little did he know his mother would make his life a living hell for scaring away her husband whom she loved deeply, despite the abuse she suffered at his hand. 

So one day Aleksey packed a small bag and left for good.  He stole what money he could find in the house and made his way to Moscow. 

In the capital, he made friends and enemies quickly, but he knew how to take care of himself and found a place to stay at one of his friend’s apartment. 

There was only one room and they took turns sleeping in the bed and on the floor.  They often had female company, and the parties usually ended on the floor because the bed was too small for even one person, let alone a foursome. 

God, he couldn’t remember how many girls he had over at this place during these alcohol and drug-infested years of sex, drugs and vodka. 

And they were beautiful girls, but they were desperate, and Aleksey did not want a woman who reminded him of his mother. 

None of those encounters resulted in a steady relationship.  He enjoyed the sex, but this was not what he wanted from life.  He knew he had to think and go bigger.

Once in Moscow and as soon as he had made friends, found a place to live and established some kind of persona that would let him be respected by everybody, Aleksey quickly learned that his red hair, green eyes, and soft, full lips attracted all sorts of people. 

Wealthy people. 

Gorgeous women. 

Spoiled and bored-to-death wives. 

He met his first housewife at a party. 

Her husband had left her alone at home - he was on a business trip that obviously involved more than figures and business talk - and Svetlana had felt she needed to break free, at least for one night. 

One night out with her girls. 

She wore a tight, golden dress that matched her blond hair and the yellow sprinkles in her blue eyes and killer high heels. 

There was no need for underwear for her body was tight as a young girl’s. 

Her husband had taken care of that by investing in a couple of enhancing operations. 

She was confident and in a good mood, celebrating her imagined freedom with two of her best friends whose husbands were away, too. 

Aleksey noticed her as soon as he stepped into the room, and she noticed him. 

One intimate glance was enough for both of them to know what would happen next. 

There was no need for exhausting conversations and make-believe flirting and wooing. 

They met in the room next door which was furnished with an afghan and a vast array of soft cushions. 

She looked up at him and he drew her towards himself. 

Their lips met in a hot, wet and endless kiss while he drew the skirt of her dress up her tight, round cheeks and started fondling her lips and clitoris. 

She managed to open his zipper and started rubbing him slowly.  Her husband hadn’t fucked her for quite some time and she could not wait to feel Aleksey’s flesh throbbing inside her own. 

He, on the other hand, did not feel the need to hurry and took his time.  He spit on his hand and rubbed Svetlana’s clit some more and then slowly started fingering her until she started breathing so heavily he could feel her almost explode. 

Then he undressed her completely and lay her down on the cushions, putting one of the bigger pillows under her hips to raise her butt and cunt towards his head which disappeared between her legs. 

He did it nice and easy, and Svetlana came two times in a row.  Then he turned her around and took her from behind. 

He had her screaming before they finished off together and lay there silently to regain their strength and senses. 

She asked him for his phone number.  Aleksey was hesitant, he didn’t want her to call him and end up being killed by her husband. 

That was not what happened. 

Aleksey obviously had done a good job, and all Svetlana did was recommend his services to her close friends who continued to spread the word discretely after parting with Aleksey. 

That’s how Aleksey started earning money and that’s how he could afford to take acting lessons. 

It didn’t take him long to be discovered by one of the professors of the Moscow Academy of Performing Arts.

“You are a natural!” the professor said, standing a little too close for Aleksey’s comfort.  “With my help, you shall be a great actor!  Just you wait and see.”

CHAPTER SIX

And that’s how Aleksey Andropov came to be at one of the world’s most renowned theatre festivals, standing there with other actors half his age, listening without understanding. 

He noticed the girl standing in the corner staring at him.  She looked somehow out of place, though he couldn’t put a finger on exactly why that was. 

Maybe it was her whole appearance and demeanor.  She looked almost aristocratic in her blue and white striped dress, the bobbed hair the color of honey, her ice-cold blue eyes and the prominent cheek bones. 

Perhaps she was one of the staff as she apparently knew the people running the show, but she didn’t seem to be part of the theatre crowd. 

He turned his eyes toward her and several times their eyes locked, but she turned quickly away, as if she’d been caught.  It made him smile.

She looked like she had a secret, and that was what peaked Aleksey’s interested.  He tried not to be obvious, as he had no idea who she was and he did not want to embarrass himself.  What if she was the director’s wife or a famous actress?

Better to wait and see, he told himself.  He would keep an eye on her, but he’d make no move beyond that… unless she made the move first.

CHATPER SEVEN

The festival was buzzing and Natalya had a lot of work to do.  She didn’t even manage to go and see all the shows, and she was slower than usual because she couldn’t concentrate. 

She just couldn’t get the redhead off her mind. 

He was a mystery to her, and mysteries had always been her joy and her doom. 

Once, during her mutual lunch-break, Carlos had informed her he had found out the guy was Russian, but that was still all she knew and that was just not enough. 

She kept fantasizing about him, during the day, at work, and in her bed at nights. 

She touched herself, caressed herself, her tender nipples, her soft thighs and worked her way up to her clitoris and inside herself, imagining it was his long and slender fingers and strong hands touching her. 

She made herself come over and over again, but nothing could satisfy her longing for the red headed stranger, who seemed determined not to give her the time of day.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The final day of the festival arrived, and she hadn’t managed to talk to the red head even once. 

Her hopes were gone and she had said a soft adieu to him, his athletic body and his deep red hair and green eyes would have to remain a figment of her dreams. 

The festival was over and she would never see him again, so she figured it was better to give up on the idea to share her bed with him at least once. 

She put her mind to work, finishing the last couple of tasks for the day before she went to meet her boss at the little outdoor café up the street from the theatre. 

They sat at a table off to the side, sipping coffee and going over the schedule for the festival’s last day. 

Her boss, Jean Claude, was cheerful and witty and she liked him a lot.  He was not the typical French artsy-fartsy type.  He was slightly chaotic and unstructured, and he had a big heart for the absurd and crazy, like her.  If he hadn’t been old enough to be her grandfather, she would have been wildly attracted to him. 

He regaled her with gossip from the festival’s backstage.  She was laughing and enjoying his little stories, when she saw the red headed stranger sit at a table across the way.  He was wearing a bright red track suit that perfectly matched his hair.  He sat at the table alone and ordered a double espresso.

Jean Claude noticed her watching the other man.  “Ah, Aleksey Andropov, a fine young actor,” he said.  “He is Russian, doesn’t speak much English or French, but a fine actor, indeed.  Did you have a chance to meet him?”

Natalya cleared her throat and shook her head, trying to act as aloof as possible.  “No, I didn’t get to meet many of the actors.  I was a little busy, you know.”

“That didn’t stop Carlos,” he said with a roll of his eyes.  He raised a hand and called out.  “Good day, Aleksey!”

Aleksey looked up from his coffee cup and gave a little nod.  His eyes met Natalya’s and locked there for a moment.  He smiled at her politely and tipped his cup to her. 

“Well, we must go,” Jean Claude said, slapping a hand on the table.  The sound made her jump.  “The final show of the festival is about to begin.  Come, you can sit with me.”

“Thank you,” she said, pushing herself up from the table.  When she looked across the way, the red head was gone.

CHAPTER NINE

After the last show, there was a huge party and everyone involved with the festival was invited.  There was a DJ, lots of food, and plenty of free booze. 

Everyone was happy and sad at the same time because the festival was over.  It had been an intense couple of days.  Now the time had come to relax and just breathe before the trek home tomorrow. 

Natalya took advantage of the free booze.  After several vodkas, she and Carlos hit the dance floor.  The music was good.  She had convinced her boss to book a popular local DJ she knew, and he was spinning funk and American soul music, her favorite. 

She was a superb dancer, and it didn’t take her long to own the dance floor.  She was enjoying the music and the people dancing around her, as if she were at a tribal gathering of some kind. 

The vodka worked its way through her system, loosening her limbs and her inhibitions.  Her hips moved to the rhythm and she felt free and yes, even sexy. 

She was dancing to one of her favorite songs when she sensed someone close behind her.  She turned quickly and nearly fell over her own feet.

There he was; the red headed stranger, less than a foot away.

He was looking at her, smiling and dancing towards her. 

All of a sudden all her fears and doubts were gone.  While dancing, she felt alive and confident. 

She smiled at him seductively and by her moves, encouraged him to join her.  He held out his hand and she took it.  A visible spark fired at their touch.  He pulled her to him and they proceeded to sweep everyone else from the dance floor, just like in the movies. 

A circle of spectators formed around them as they gave their hearts and souls to each other without saying a single word. 

When the music ended, so did Natalya’s courage.  She knew he couldn’t understand her words, so she gestured to the bar and started moving through the crowd.  She needed more vodka.  And she needed it now!

Aleksey followed her, watching her body move in front of him.  He didn’t know what it was about her, but she was so different from everyone else he’d met during the festival. 

A number of girls (and several men) had come on to him during the festival, but he had resisted them all. 

He was waiting for the mystery girl to approach him, but she never did.  He was starting to worry that he would leave without ever having met her, then he’d spotted her on dance floor.

The way her body moved to the rhythm, the way she expressed herself, he could not miss the chance to dance with her before the week came to an end.

To him, she was the only real woman there. 

Though he was an actor, he had never been attracted to the Bohemian actresses that shared the stage with him in Russia. 

Natalya reminded him of women he had known in his past, real women, women who knew how to treat a man. 

So he followed her to the bar, still not knowing how they would communicate, but certain that they could find a way.

Yet, when he finally pushed his way through the mass of dancers and found the bar, the mystery woman was no longer there.