What's Left Of Me (The Firebird Trilogy Book 2) (20 page)

Chapter Twenty

Buffalo, NY (AP)–
The sexual assault allegation against former NHL star Aleksandr Volynsky has been dropped, according to the New York State Bureau of Criminal Investigation. The alleged victim withdrew her accusation in light of increasing media scrutiny when her identity was revealed and due to a lack of evidence to support an ongoing investigation.

When asked to comment, Volynsky said, “I believed all along that nothing would come of this allegation. There’s no evidence, because I never inflicted any harm on my accuser. While my past actions with women have often been regrettable, that does not mean I would ever commit this crime. Now I can move on and focus on both my family and my new job with the Buffalo Gladiators.”

The accuser, recently identified as Katherine Miller of Niagara Falls, could not be reached for comment.

***

Alex

Eleven hours to Milan. They stowed their bags and got comfortable—much easier to do in first class than in the cattle car behind them—and a flight attendant offered them a pre-departure beverage. Alex had let Stephanie take the window seat due to her limited travel experience. As soon as the plane began to taxi, however, she yanked down the shutter over the porthole window, hung her head between her legs, and sucked in one deep breath after another. Cold air hissed from the overhead nozzle.

“You okay, baby?” He rubbed her back then uncapped a bottle of water.

“Just a little motion sickness. There’s a box of Dramamine in my bag. Can you get it out?”

“Doesn’t that make you sleepy? It’s your first intercontinental flight, and you’re going to miss all the excellent movies and screaming children.”

Her mouth quirked at one corner. “You can fill me in when I wake up.”

Aleksandr dragged her bag out from under the seat in front of her and rifled through it. He popped out one pill. Stephanie gulped it down with a swig of water.

“Thanks.” She pushed her seat back and arranged her travel pillow around her neck. “Wake me up for lunch.”

She passed out minutes later. He squeezed her hand and watched about five minutes of an inexplicably popular action movie before dozing off with her hand in his.

Stephanie, much improved when she woke, ate her entire meal: braised beef short ribs—dreadfully well done—with red wine sauce, parsnip puree, and baby carrots. “This tastes better than it should. I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week.” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “But now I have to pee. Excuse me, honey.”

Alex stepped into the aisle to let her pass, grateful for the chance to stretch his back. The seats may have been roomier up here, but he was not an average-sized man by any account. As soon as he sat down, his phone beeped.

Stephanie: Had to sneak away to the bathroom and finger myself furiously until I came, thinking about you. I want you to lick my pussy like you need it to survive.

Alex snickered and crossed his legs, the crotch of his silk-cotton shorts tightening.

Alex: You’re lucky I have so much self-control. If not, I’d be in the bathroom, fucking you like a beast right now. And then they’d throw us off the plane. :)

Stephanie emerged from the bathroom and resumed her seat, her expression one of perfect innocence. She folded her hands in her lap and offered a sweet smile.

He let his gaze fall on her hands. He’d watched her masturbate enough times; she’d have used her right index finger. Hungering for a taste of her, he raised that finger to his lips and skimmed his tongue over it, eyes locked on hers. “Was it this one?”

Stephanie’s quiet sigh bordered on a moan.

“You’re feisty. I can’t wait to get to the hotel so you can have your way with me.”

“Me neither. Because I can’t stop thinking about you in tiny underwear.”

Once Alex had let slip that he and Stephanie were heading to Milan, his manager had arranged a last-minute gig with a hot new Italian underwear designer. Alex had relayed the woman’s message that next time she intended to get Stephanie in on the action, like Posh and Beckham’s Armani shoot.
He leaned over and, cupping her cheek, whispered into her ear, “I may be wearing some right now.”

“That is so unfair. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“But it gives you something to think about for the next seven hours.” He kissed her cheek and reclined in his seat.

Stephanie thumbed something into her phone. His beeped again.

Stephanie: I literally can’t concentrate on anything, with the flashbacks from last night in my head. The way you fuck me is completely unreal.

He cleared his throat. His cock strained against his shorts and micro hip briefs—tiny underwear indeed.

Alex: I can’t wait for you to get naked so I can kiss and lick every part of your body. You’re everything to me.

Stephanie looked up at him through her lashes. “I love you,” she mouthed.

Stephanie: And when we land, I want what’s mine.

***

Stephanie

The housekeeper had turned down the sheets on the king-sized bed in their Milanese suite and scattered rose petals on the pillows. Enveloped in a delicate rose perfume, Stephanie’s thoughts converged on Alex’s gentle, unhurried thrusts, on each kiss, each breath. The contact of their skin, the seamless fit of slopes and curves.

He sighed against her ear. “I love you,” he whispered as she cradled him between her thighs. Alex melted onto her, their heartbeats synchronous, their fingers and mouths intertwined. For the next week, virtually no commitments to anything but each other. And thank God for Nicole’s willingness to babysit Anya.

“Early day tomorrow.” He kissed her again. Slow, soulful, his tongue teasing hers. “You don’t have come to the shoot if you don’t want to. It’s not exactly how I envisioned our anniversary, but…”

“I get to watch you pose in tiny underwear. I wouldn’t miss that for anything.”

“Think of the billboards. My crotch, fourteen feet high.”

“I like your crotch right where it is.”

“Mmm. Naughty girl.” His cheeks dimpled. “I’m taking you somewhere special tomorrow night.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. That is…” Alex rolled her nipple into his mouth, suckled, and release. Her skin tingled and tightened with heat. “If I let you out of this room. Or even this bed. I think you might have cured me.”

She laughed and bound him in her arms, his warm body perspiring against hers. “I think the Cialis is working.”

“Two months to make up for, and only a week away from home. You are in for it,
moya lyubov′
.” His grin broadened. He flipped her onto her stomach and pinned her by her wrists, his cock a steel rod on her backside, the incongruity of cool sheets and his body heat a magnificent torment. “My God, woman, the things I’m going to do to you.” Alex nudged her thighs apart with his knee. He ran a hand down her spine as he inhaled a husky breath. “My amazing, beautiful wife.”

Then his hands and mouth were everywhere: her shoulders, her back, her hips and ass, her legs and between them. Every inch of her sparking flesh, just as he’d vowed.

***

Stephanie woke first. Alex, snuffling a stray rose petal, was sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the bed, one leg kicked out from under the comforter. She plucked the petal from his face, caressed his thigh, his ass, and covered him back up. After a quick shower, she sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with his thick black hair. He grunted and lifted his head, his face scrunched like a cranky child’s. Squinting, he scanned the room as though he’d forgotten where he was.

“What time is it?” he asked in a gravelly voice.

“Tim to get up, you sexy beast. Let’s see those tiny underwear.”

“I’d rather…” Beginning at the hem of her shorts, he kissed the length of her thigh, then licked it all the way back. “Do this.”

She tossed her head back and sank her teeth into her lip. “Get in the shower.”

Alex cackled. Stephanie opened her eyes in time to catch a glimpse of his naked ass as he rounded the corner into the bathroom.

A sultry haze laden with the threat of rain congealed over the Alps rising in the north. In the city, the combination of searing sunlight and baking asphalt brought to mind LA’s hottest summer days, the air thickened with the pungent smells of exhaust, cigarette smoke, sweat, and roasting coffee. Sweat gathered at Stephanie’s hairline and was already dribbling down Alex’s neck. Thankfully, a car waited to take them the short distance to the Via Montenapoleone fashion district, but the concentrator hung from her shoulder just in case.

“
Iisus.
” Alex plucked the collar of his T-shirt and flapped it for circulation. “Now I can’t wait to wear nothing but underwear.” They climbed into the air-conditioned car’s back seat, and he let out a loud, affected sigh. “My people aren’t meant for this climate. I grew up two hours from Finland.”

“And yet you spent summers in Spain.”

“I was young and dumb.”

“You’re twenty-seven.” Stephanie pinched the inside of the muscular thigh exposed by breezy seersucker shorts. He closed his hand over hers, holding it there.

“Still young, not as dumb. Also, you seem to be feeling frisky.”

“If we were alone in this car…Well, I’ll let you ponder how that statement ends.”

He darted his tongue over his lips. “I’m already imagining it,” he whispered, and nipped her earlobe.

They arrived at the spacious studio an hour early so Alex could strip down and put on a white terrycloth robe before going into hair and makeup. Exposed brick walls, backdrops, umbrellas, and lamps in one area; in another an armchair, along with a bed draped in white cotton sheets. More lamps and umbrellas.

Alex was sitting in a stylist’s chair. The man who had artfully mussed his hair stepped away, and a woman swooped in to apply the necessary makeup, especially to his facial scars. Another woman was buffing his nails. Stephanie smothered a laugh with her hand. Alex was high-maintenance, but that was a bit much even for him.

He caught sight of her in the mirror as a stylist trimmed the hair at the back of his neck, and stuck out his tongue.

God, I love you.
She giggled and turned to a south-facing window through which the massive, Gothic Duomo di Milano, Italy’s largest church, dominated the piazza. She added it to her mental sightseeing list.

Alex, the robe discarded, was lying on the bed in a pair of black briefs while a makeup artist touched up his face. He reclined on his forearms and spread his legs in a provocative pose, ensuring maximum visibility of his bulge. No digital enhancement required.
You too can look like this if you wear our briefs
, was the subliminal message, except no one would. Not Beckham, not Ronoldo, not Dotto, and certainly not the run-of-the-mill man.

He was kneeling now, canted forward and flashing a dazzling, playful smile. Then back to sexy and brooding, hands behind his head and biceps taut, before changing into a white pair of underwear. They shifted Alex to the chair, where he struck a thoughtful posture, chin on his hand as he gazed to his right. Powerful thighs seductively parted again. Now facing the camera and wearing an unbuttoned white shirt that framed his broad chest and contrasted with its dark hair. He needed little direction, and Stephanie was well acquainted with that simmering gaze. He was giving them exactly what they wanted, because he was thinking about sex.

She lowered her head to hide her smile, grateful there was no exterior analogue to the warm tugs in her belly.

Standing against the brick wall, Alex hooked his thumbs into a pair of boxer briefs and jerked them down to bare more of his V-cut, until the waistband barely concealed his pubic hair. She’d hang that one in her office for sure.

By the time the shoot wrapped, she’d never been so horny. They scrambled into the car and held hands tightly, preventing each other from indulging in a little semi-public grope before they reached the hotel. Alex was gazing at her with his heavy-lidded “I’m going to fuck your brains out” look. She shivered despite the heat.

They all but ran down the third-floor hall, holding hands and laughing like kids. The suite door had barely closed behind them; they were escaping the confines of their clothing and stumbling into the bathroom, the bed entirely too far away, where Alex lifted her onto the marble counter between double basins.

“It was a struggle to keep my hands off you in there,” Stephanie said. But not now, fondling, petting, placating sanguine flesh. Alex grazed his palms over her shoulders, her breasts, her hips. He pulled her legs around his waist, opening her as he dovetailed his body to hers. He slid his hands under her thighs, folding her legs back and pushing deeper; she matched her tempo to the escalating pace of his thrusts. As he unlocked more of her, he braced his hands on either side of her hips, and his mouth found hers again. Stephanie wrapped her arms around his neck. He was groaning, coming hard, each contraction of his cock shooting another hot torrent deep into her.