Strife: Part Three (The Strife Series Book 3) (3 page)

DMITRI

She's so vibrant. So beautiful. So alive.

The sound of her laughter is music to my ears. Her happy moments are a treasure to me. And I can't deny any longer that I want her.

One kiss. Would it hurt so much? It won't destroy my resolve. Hopefully, it won't destroy her.

This is just me being greedy. I feel bad about it. Selfish. I need this though. Need to feel those perfect lips.

She tastes every bit as sweet as I imagined, the faintest hint of sugar on her tongue from the coke. It takes a moment for her to reciprocate, but once she does, it's with more passion than I could have fathomed. Her hand reaches up, her nails sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck, causing a pleasant shiver to roll down my spine. She curls her fingers there, and I lower myself onto her, deepening the kiss, my lips molding to hers, my tongue exploring the slick cavern of her mouth.

I'm intoxicated by her beauty, by the feel of her soft skin as I cradle her face in my hand. It's like she's cast some spell over me, but I know it's just the alcohol whittling me down to basal desire.

I shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be touching her like this. Kissing her like this. It's wrong, even if it doesn't feel wrong.

I take my fill of her lips, knowing that this can only happen once. Then I try to pull away. Her grip on me is strong, and she draws me back to her, lifting off the floor to chase me. I give her a few more chaste kisses before I summon my strength to disengage from her.

She looks up at me with a confused expression, her gorgeous ringlets framing her face and making her seem almost angelic. She's far from an angel though. This is just an illusion.

Her hands clutch at the front of my cardigan, still trying to pull me back down to her. I have to turn away, fearing the disappointment in her eyes. Gently, I place my hands on top of hers, peeling her fingers away from my clothing.

“No,” I say softly, rolling off of her to sit and catch my breath.

“What's wrong?” She pulls herself up, resting her chin on my shoulder.

“We can't do this.”

“Why not?” She slips a hand between the buttons of my cardigan, rubbing my stomach. Her nails raking over the thin material of my T-shirt causes my cock to throb with want. I can imagine them being less gentle on my back.

“Because it's not right.”

“Why isn't it right?” She pouts.

“Because you're paid to sleep with me.” I face her finally though I dare not meet her gaze.

“Is that what this is about?” she lets out a small laugh. “Any woman in the world would want to sleep with you, Dmitri.”

“That's just it,” I sigh. “You didn't want to sleep with me before you knew who I was. Last night, you seemed so scared. So uncertain. You're different today.” I finally gather up the nerve to glance at her.

Her lips dip into a frown as she considers my words. “Yesterday, I was scared,” she confesses. “I didn't know you. Didn't know what your intentions were. I didn't know if you were going to want to hurt me or...” She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes closed.

“Pepper, I've never done this before. I've never had to pay a woman for sex. I've never wanted to pay a woman for sex. The fact that you're getting paid for this really bothers me.” Might as well throw it all out there, since it seems like we're both being honest.

The shame in her expression makes me regret being so blunt. She stands, looking down at me with a coldness that causes a fissure in my heart. I reach up to grab her hand, but she jerks it away from me.

“I get it, Dmitri. I'm just a whore to you. You don't want to sully yourself with my disgusting body.”

“That's not it.” I'm on my feet in an instant, but she's already walking away.

I try to capture her wrist, but again she pulls away. “Stop. Just stop, alright.”

Doesn't she have any idea how hard this has been for me—how much I want her? The fact that I hurt her tears me apart. She didn't do anything wrong. And I damn sure don't see her as just a whore.

It takes me a moment to realize that she's stalking off to the bathroom. I should let her go and cool down, but I'm worried that if I do, she'll lock herself in, and I'll have to carry these horrible feelings inside of me for God knows how long. I don't want that. I don't want us to both spend the rest of the night miserable.

I wrap my hands around her shoulders and push her to the side before she has a chance to enter the bathroom. She stumbles, letting out a small cry of distress before regaining her balance. It gives me just enough time to turn her around, pinning her to the wall.

She tries to get away, but I press my body against hers, keeping her in place. Anger is written all over her face. Anger and pain and sadness.

I find her wrists again, pulling them up over her head and pushing them back against the wall. Then I kiss her like I mean it. At least, I try to. Almost the second my lips make contact, she turns her head, diverting.

“Is this what you want?” I whisper into her ear, confused and aroused and so many things in between.

“No,” she responds with disdain.

“You think I don't want you, but you're wrong. You think you're just a whore to me, but you're not. I want to protect you, and I don't know why. From the world. From me.”

I can feel her chest heaving, but she's starting to calm. The bitterness fades from her eyes, her gaze falling to my mouth as if she can't stand to look directly at me.

“It's not your job to protect me, Dmitri.”

“I know that.”

“But this is my job. Maybe I'm not always going to like it. Maybe I'm not always going to want to do it. Maybe it won't always be my choice. But...Just forget about it.” She shakes her head.

I don't know what to say. It feels like I just made a bad situation worse. All I know is that it's not fair to keep her hostage. I don't want to become someone she fears.

Reluctantly, I let her go, taking a step back. She hugs herself, looking like a cornered animal.

“I'm sorry.” I draw my hand up to my brow, frustration overtaking me. Why do I keep screwing up with her? Why do things always have to be so complicated?

“I'm sorry too,” she replies though I feel no sincerity from her words.

Then she rolls off of the side of the wall and continues to the bathroom, locking me out.

PEPPER

I stand in front of the mirror, feeling guilty for running away from Dmitri like that. It seems like the bathroom has become my safe haven. A lot of other clients probably wouldn't allow me the luxury of escaping to recompose myself. I really need to learn to get a reign on my emotions.

I should have let him keep kissing me. Should have let him fuck me. That's what I'm getting paid for, after all.

But after the initial kiss, the one where he looked at me with genuine lust in his eyes, everything just felt forced. He was making up for offending me, and while it was hot, the timing wasn't right.

I keep forgetting that I don't get to choose the timing anymore. I'm not in charge of anything that happens. I'm just a product to be used and discarded at the client's whim. A cock sleeve on legs.

An exasperated sigh leaves me from such degrading thoughts, and I put down the toilet seat and sit, knowing that it's going to take me a few minutes to get myself together. I'm so embarrassed about the way I acted. Now the rest of the night is going to be awkward.

It was so perfect. The alcohol. The cuddling. The kiss. Then he had to ruin it by rejecting me again.

Fuck this life. Is my future really worth all of this internal conflict? Maybe flipping burgers with no certainty of ever reaching my goals would be a better path to take. I don't really know if I'm cut out to be an escort after all.

I absentmindedly lick my lips, tasting Dmitri on them. It was so sweet when he laid on the floor with me, cradling my face in his hand. His mouth moved on top of mine affectionately. His kiss was gentle and earnest and...I liked it too much. It gave me hope, and that's something I can't afford.

Now I'm shattered. Fragmented and unable to reassemble. I wish beyond anything that I could go home, but if I try to leave without contacting Nathan, I'll probably end up in a gutter before the end of the night. Maybe I could hide from James for a little while, but he knows where I live, and I have no doubt he would eventually find me.

I stay in the bathroom for what feels like hours listening to Dmitri shuffling around outside the door. I have no idea what he's doing, and I don't care until I see the lights in the living room turn off and realize that he's getting ready for bed. Even then, I don't move, simply sitting there for an additional thirty minutes until I'm sure that I can sneak out of the bathroom without being accosted.

When all sound has faded, I tiptoe to the door, turning off the light before slowly opening it and peeking out. The suite is completely dark and Dmitri is nowhere to be seen.

I pull my shoes off and think of heading for the kitchen to call Nathan to come pick me up. It's a risky move, especially since Dmitri won't be available to report my time. Hopefully, James won't make Nathan break my legs for it. It's probably not the smartest idea to leave without at least telling Dmitri that I'm going.

With a frown, I walk into the bedroom. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I have to stifle a gasp. Dmitri is laying sprawled out across the bed on his stomach, butt naked. Part of me just wants to stand there and admire his perfect muscular body, but I know I have to take care of business.

I inhale deeply before crossing the rest of the distance to the side of his bed. Apparently, I'm not walking lightly enough because he rolls over onto his back to look at me. It takes everything in me not to glance down, but I somehow manage to keep my eyes locked on his face, though my peripheral vision tries in vain to wander.

“I'm leaving,” I say as plainly as possible.

His expression is solemn, his green eyes gazing up at me. He bends slightly, reaching out to take my hand, his large fingers enveloping mine. I stare down at our joined hands, feeling a tremor of longing race through me. Why did the night have to get so fucked up? Why couldn't I have just accepted his rejection with grace?

“I don't want you to leave,” he whispers.

“Why not?” I pull away from his grasp gently.

“Because I don't want to sleep alone.”

It's a simple answer and one that's difficult to question. A lot of people don't like sleeping alone.

With a sigh, I stomp over to the other side of the bed like a petulant child before dropping my shoes on the floor and climbing up on it fully clothed. I toss myself down heavily, facing away from him, adjusting the pillow under my head with a discontent huff.

Within seconds, I feel the bed shift beside me. There's the distinct sound of a zipper being pulled down, and then I feel the back of my dress give way. A soft blush covers my cheeks as I realize that Dmitri is taking it off. His hand tenderly sweeps my hair away from my shoulder, then his fingertips graze my neck before wrapping around the sleeve of my dress and pulling it down.

The stubborn part of me wants to resist him. But the truth is that just that one little touch already has my body heating up. I'm glad he can't see my face because it's filled with sorrow. I know this is just a tease, like everything else he does. I shouldn't expect anything from it.

Obediently, I lift myself into a sitting position. Dmitri scoots up behind me, pushing the dress down the rest of the way over my shoulders. At the sensation of his lips on the nape of my neck, I moan softly. His fingertips are magical. His mouth, even better.

One of his hands slides up my throat, cupping my chin to turn my face. His thumb lightly brushes my bottom lip, and I have to resist the urge to suck on it. His lips trail up the side of my cheek until they find my mouth, kissing the corner of it. Everything in me wants to reach around and fist my fingers in his hair, drawing him to me. I refuse to give in to desire though just to be pushed away again. It hurts too much. So I just sit there, allowing him to lead, letting his affection lull me into a false sense of happiness.

He lets go of my face, and I help him pull my dress off the rest of the way. Then I crawl back onto the bed beside him, reclaiming my previous standoffish position. This time, he doesn't force me to turn around. He just pulls himself up next to me, pressing his body against mine and wrapping his arm around my waist, resting his palm over my heart.

I place my hand on top of his, lacing our fingers together. My heart is thrumming in my chest from the excitement flowing through me. Even though I'm an emotional mess, I'm also very much aroused. It doesn't help that I can feel his rock-hard dick pressing against my ass.

I'm so wrecked that I'm practically shaking. My mind is caught between wanting to turn around and pounce on him and just accepting that I'm at his mercy and shouldn't press things.

“I hate that you're so nice to me. Hate that you're such a nice guy,” I whisper into the darkness, so low that it's barely audible.

“Would you rather I be mean to you?”

“No.”
I'd rather you belong to me.
“Goodnight, Dmitri.”

“Goodnight, Pepper.”