Dmitry's Closet (32 page)

     "I'm sorry," he whispered. "For everything that I did, I'm sorry."

     Royal wiped her face off and tried to stop crying after a minute. Breaking his embrace, she walked to the door and opened it.

     "Get out," she said, pointing out the door. "My first night on the couch?" Dmitry asked. "You've got like six other bedrooms in this house. I'm sure you'll fit in one."

     Dmitry walked to the door where she stood and kissed her on the forehead one more time. "So, you'll stay?"

     "I need to think about it," she said, looking up at him.
"
Dah,
that's fair. You think. I'll go stitch up my arm." Dmitry tried to be understanding of everything that she had gone through, plus he knew that she would forgive him. If he didn't know her that well by now, she would have not been in his home. "You want me to have maid come up and unpack for you?"

     "No, I'm not sure that there will be a need to," she said, closing the door behind her.

∞♥∞

     While trying to tend to his arm, Dmitry drank a six pack of Foster's beer and looked out of the window above the sink at the backyard. Anatoly walked back into the kitchen from the garage and saw his father over the faucet with tweezers, scissors and thread. He sat his keys on the counter and walked over.

     "What happened to you?" he asked unmoved. "Royal," he answered, pulling the thread through his flesh.

     He smacked on his gum. "She stab you?"

    
"
Dah,"

     "Why?"

     "She's woman," Dmitry groaned, motioning for Anatoly to give him the antiseptic.

     "She found out who you were, didn't she?"

    
"Dah"
Dmitry said, pouring the chemical over his wound.

     "Well then, you should be glad that she didn't shoot you." Anatoly walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door, chuckling.

     Dmitry shook his head. Anatoly did not know the first thing about love. "She's a good girl. She was just very afraid. I can't say that I don't blame her," he explained to his son.

     Anatoly sifted through the food to find a container of chilled oysters. Grabbing the small bowl, he closed the door and turned around to look at his father. "Are you sure that you're ready to do this? To give all of this up for woman who is… not even Russian?"

     "You look around and see all these things. I look around and see a large fortress, keeping the whole world out. I don't want to live like this anymore. And yes, I know that she's a black woman. I've seen more of her than you have. I know. I don't care about that. I want woman who is going to stand by me, even when it's in her best interest to run. Let's not ever forget where we are from, boy. From the streets, lower even, from the gutters of the streets. We have no room to pass judgment on anyone, especially good people."

     "So you're saying that she's worth it?" Anatoly was still not completely convinced. He cracked at his father.

     Dmitry shook his head. "Yes, so get busy. I want this transition to happen now."

     "The meeting is scheduled for tomorrow. We make the big announcement then."

     "What time tomorrow."

     "Six on the dot." Anatoly tapped his watch and left the room with his bowl of oysters, headed to the entertainment room to watch television.

Chapter 25

     Dmitry decided instead of sleeping in one of the guest rooms to back go to his study. It was his
man cave,
full of reminders of why he had to press forward whenever times were hard. He had done it a hundred times before, slept in the place he worked. Tonight was no different.

     Relaxed, his long body sprawled out over on the long leather sofa with his arms elevated on back of the soft wine-colored textile, looking up at the ceiling fan circling above him. The darkness of the room strangely brought him comfort. A world wind of events had taken even him by surprise. And while he had not allowed the feds get under his skin, Royal had. She was quite exceptional at that.

     It was the painful tears and the scared stare in her face that disturbed him most. How did she see him now? Would she leave? Would she ever trust him again? He loved her dearly and treasured her like no other woman.

     He rubbed his temples and growled. A headache was looming over him. He had worried less about murder than he did about loving her.

     With his free hand behind his head, propped up on his waded up, torn shirt, he listened to the crackling of the fireplace and recalled each and every event of the day. Reaching over, he grabbed the crystal container off the table and winced; the wound reminded him of Royal's aching heart and bad temper. He laughed a little. She was such a firecracker. He poured the last of the brandy in a glass and swallowed it quickly. Drinking heavily was not one of his releases, but he needed to numb the pain in his arm and his heart.

     Closing his tired eyes, he tried to cast his cares away and sleep for a few hours when suddenly he heard soft footsteps approaching on the marble outside his door. His eyes popped open. Royal.

     The door knob twisted slowly, and a light appeared from the hallway. She stepped inside cautiously. Dmitry lifted his head a little as she made eye contact with him. She closed the door behind her and walked towards him. He followed the unintentional sway of her full hips and admired the silhouette of her body under the silk chemise.

     "I came to see if you were... okay," she whispered, kneeling before him. His peering eyes sparkled like diamonds at her. Even now, she was in awe of how handsome he was.

     Dmitry looked at her for a moment without saying a word. She glowed in the darkness of the room. The fireplace made her look like an angel. Her hair danced about her freely, skin free from make-up and resilient. For a moment, he forgot about the pain.

     She took his arm and looked at the dressed wound. "I'm sorry," she said with tears running down her cheeks. "I tried to stay up there as long as I could. Even though you deserved to be brutally stabbed, I still felt bad about it." She fumbled over her words and swallowed hard.

     Dmitry grunted then turned his body to sit up on the sofa. His muscular frame flexed as he moved. She stood up and stepped back. Dmitry automatically wondered if she was still afraid of him. The thought bothered him, frustrated him.

     "Come here," he said, waving her to him. She moved closer to his body slowly and felt his long arm reach out for her waist and pull her to him. He rested his head on her stomach and rubbed her bottom.

     Royal wiped the tears from her eyes and lifted his head where he could see her.

     "Will you forgive me... for stabbing you?" she asked.

     He laughed a little.
"Dah"
His deep voice filled the room. "Will you forgive me for being who I am?" His eyes were wide and anxious.

    
"Mozhet byt’"
she said in a soft voice.

     "Perhaps?" Dmitry smiled. "Well, I guest that's better than
net."

    
"Dah,"
she said again.

     "You know your Russian is very limited for a woman who lives with me."

     "I'm sure I'll learn." She nodded.

     Dmitry rubbed her back and ran his hand down her leg. He smelled the perfume on her body and signed. "Is this a peace offering?" he asked, pulling her closer.

     Royal looked down and rubbed through his hair.

     "Would you like for it to be?"

     "I need it be." He focused on her body. "I love you still," she whispered.

     Dmitry's stare was carnal. Having drunk too much, he forgot his normal carefulness as he reached for the top of her gown with his large hands and tore it off. The fabric ripped as he pulled it away from her soft skin. The act only inflamed him more. His desire for her grew by the moment.

     She was stunned at first but did not move. She gasped as he rose over her like a hungry lion. Her naked body was vulnerably exposed. She tried to cover herself with her hands, but he pulled them away, licking his lips as he drank her body in through his eyes. She looked up at him through matched hooded eyes ready to accept whatever he wanted to give. Everything.

     He moved her hair from her face, off her milky brown shoulders to see her better. She was his gift from God.

     He picked her up in his arms and kissed her mouth, forcing her to shed her civility. Her long legs locked around his waist and closed around his back.

     Carrying her to desk, he pushed the contents to the floor, shattering the glass mementos as they hit the ground. Papers floated down to the ground around his feet. She sat back on the desk and rested her elbows on the surface, watching him change from a docile creature to a hunter.

     Dmitry leaned over the desk, in between her legs and kissed her lips again, holding her face in his massive hands. She moaned under his touch and the pressure of his body leaning against her.

     "Don't ever be afraid of me," he demanded, pulling her to him. Her body jerked. Her long hair fell over on the desk. "Don't ever think that I would hurt you. I would hurt myself first."

     She said nothing. He spread her legs further apart with his thighs. Her back arched, and she ran her long nails over his bare skin. Sensually, he kissed down her neck to her collar bone to her aching nipples. Cupping her warm flesh in his mouth, he suckled her.

     Biting her lip, she undulated under his body. She wanted him so badly now. Why did he make her wait?

     Dmitry breaths became quicker as she came alive before him. Taking both of her large thighs in his hands, he pulled her body closer to his steely erection.

     He could feel her long fingers on his pants, forcefully pulling them down. They hit the ground and made a jingle as his belt buckle hit the floor. He stepped out of them quickly and pulled her body to the end of the table.

     Lifting her long legs to fit safely on his large shoulders, he pushed deep into her body. There was an immediate, collective sigh. Instinctively, she tried to pull away from the initial sharp strike, but he only gripped the front of her knees tighter and kissed the insides of her legs.

     She screamed in unadulterated pleasure, looking at his sculpted forearms, his fatless marble frame and the shining of his Rolex reflecting in the fire light. It was embarrassing to admit how much his power and sex appeal suddenly turned her on.

     His tattooed temple pulled back and crashed back into her body, bringing her back to the task at hand. She arched her back and bit her index finger as she absorbed his impact. Pain. Pleasure. Pain. Pleasure. Pleasure. Pleasure.

     Dmitry winced from the twinge of his arm and the ecstasy of her eager body. His rhythmic jolts made her bounce on the table. Easing her back and forth with his strong hands, he felt her begin to shiver. She moaned his name, but he would not stop, would not let up. His motions became hypnotic; each caress, kiss and thrust was filled with heart-felt passion that coupled with lusty exhilaration.

     Royal's quiet moans soon became loud screams. The shivering became shuddering, and her body convulsed like she was the subject of an exorcism. Still he would not release her. His face was focused, drowned in sweat, mouth open, eyes gleaming like the fire behind them. She eyed him curiously of how long he would continue to punish her. The anger in his face showed that it could be a while, but her body would give out at any moment. When she could not take one more jolt, she reached out for him.

     Dmitry allowed her legs to fall to either side of his waist as he leaned over the table to kiss her. She sat up to meet him. His tongue searched her mouth softly, awakening her senses with every taste. She whimpered in his embrace, feeling his large hands search her body, pull and rub at the most tender spots.

     Picking her up off the table, he stood up with her on top of him. They looked at each other for the first time as he held her. Royal saw Dmitry, and Dmitry saw Royal. They were no longer strangers, just two people who desired more than anything to be together.

     "Hi," she said, biting her lip.

     "Hi," he snaked his tongue out the side of his mouth as it watered.

     Royal wiped the sweat from his brow affectionately. He had all but destroyed her inside and out. He held her close as he made love to her, never taking his eyes of hers. She hugged him tightly, submitting to his will. He was far too strong of a man to fight and far too good of a lover to stop. He continued for a while, standing in the middle of the floor with her riding him without ever once shifting.

     Finally falling to the gravity of the earth, she felt her body against the plush rug. The world shifted. She went from looking at the floor and holding on to his iron grip to catching glimpses of the vaulted ceiling. He laid over her, connected to her inner core, deep inside of her troubled heart.

     Her screams started again and were intermingled with Dmitry's deep, masculine groans. Tears formed in her eyes as he continued. He looked at her with tears in his own eyes . In them, there was a glimpse of humility—sorrow for the way that he had deceived her. She had never seen him cry until tonight. It was frightening to her.

     In the silence of the room, she held him tight as he moaned and tensed up, releasing himself into her body. His mouth converged on hers in a long, passionate kiss and deep, frustrated sigh. His deep breaths vibrated against her sweaty body. He covered her, hiding her from God and man. She looked up at the ceiling beyond his large arm and smiled. How could she deny him when he loved her beyond words, beyond barriers, beyond life?

     Too weak to move, Royal stayed under him shaking until he finally sat up. She breathed free air as he did. On his knees in front of her, he wiped the tears quickly from his face, embarrassed that she had seen him show so much emotion.

     He looked down at her with a now expressionless face and then picked her exhausted body up off the ground. She closed her eyes and lay against him nearly asleep. Naked, he carried her in his wounded arms, up to their bedroom.