You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 1) (34 page)

That you’ve stolen my heart

And I’ve nothing more to give…

                -
The loser,
Enrique Iglesias

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLcfAnN2QgY&list=RDGMEMYvZjTda73N9EL0Qo2TnYngVMtLcfAnN2QgY

SNOW

A
fter I hear Jake’s words to Shane, I creep back to bed and, turning on my side, breathe deeply and evenly until I hear the front door close and Shane comes back into the room minutes later. He stands for a good few minutes looking down at me, but I just pretend to be sleeping. Finally, he goes to his side of the bed and quietly slips in.

For a long time he doesn’t sleep. He just lays on his back staring at the wall. I can feel him thinking. Planning whatever it is that he is arranging. He never touches me. A last I hear his breath become even and he sleeps, but I never fall asleep again.

When morning comes, I carefully burrow under the cover and gently lick his sleeping cock. I am so gentle I do not startle him awake. I awaken him gently. His hand moves down and strokes my hair as his cock hardens with surprising rapidity. I take the beautiful, porcelain-smooth thing into my mouth, and let it slide along my tongue.

Oh! Shane.

It must have been delectable for him too, because he groans. A low, long sound of pure pleasure. He puts his hands around my head, gently forcing his cock to the back of my throat. His cock pulses and throbs in my mouth as if holding back from spilling its hot milk down my throat. I let him hold me there. If only he would hold me there forever. A few drops of pre-cum touch the back of my throat and I swallow them eagerly.

I drank my lover.

Let him be part of me. The action, the swallowing movement of my mouth excites him, and he begins to pull me up and down his shaft until his body clenches and he explodes. The force of his orgasm bursts inside my mouth, thick spurts of semen pouring into my throat. This I will take with me. 

And I will remember this morning forever.

He pulls me up his naked, warm body and kisses me deeply. He rolls me onto my back and touches my naked pussy. He smiles slowly.

‘You’re wet,’ he accuses.

‘And what are you going to do about it then, big boy?’ I ask.

‘I’m going to eat you,’ he says, and goes down on me.

My climax when it comes is bitter-sweet. Sweet because my whole body arches and strains with waves of pure bliss that feel as if they will go on forever. Bitter because they stop. And when they stop I lie drained and almost tearful.

Everything must come to an end.

But the pain of letting go is almost too much to bear. When you find something so beautiful you can’t be expected not to cry when you are told you can’t have it. Tears swim in my eyes. I blink them away.

He comes up my body and rests on his elbows. ‘Hey, are you OK?’ His eyes are concerned.

‘Yeah, it was a really good orgasm,’ I say, and I even manage to smile up at him.

He grins. ‘How good was it?’

‘Like a box of chocolates and a newborn German Sheppard puppy called Ghengis?’

‘Really? As good as all that,’ he teases.

‘Yes, as good as that.’

He kisses the tip of my nose. ‘Oh, Snow. There is just no one like you.’

‘That’s true,’ I say, and kiss the tip of his nose. Against my thigh I feel his cock grow again.

‘Really? You can’t be wanting it again,’ I say with a laugh.

‘I’m fucking starving for you. But first, a trip to the toilet is in order. I don’t want to be peeing inside you.’

‘Ugh, you’re disgusting.’

He gets off me laughing and disappears into the toilet. I watch his nude body walk away from me avidly. I will remember this.

When he comes back he sheathes his cock and pushes deep into me. I cry out. Not with pain or pleasure, but with gratitude. I will have this until the day I die. For the first time in my life I understood women who never remarried after they lost their love. Nobody else is good enough. Once you get that one person who is right for you, you will never again want anybody else.

Maybe I will marry. Actually, of course I will marry, my mother will make sure that I do, but I will never, never, never love like this again. Never.

And when we come we lock eyes with each other. It is beautiful.

‘I’m yours,’ I whisper, wrapping my legs around him tightly.

‘Like you won’t believe,’ he whispers back.

Our bodies entwined, we lie there. It’s hard to look into his eyes. They are so blue, so sincere, so awesome. I want to tell him. I want to tell him that I love him like I have never and will never love again, but I realize that my declaration would be neither here nor there.

So many women must have expressed that sentiment. So what if I do too. No, I won’t. It will be my little secret. No one will ever know. Not him, not my mother or my father, or anyone. Maybe I will tell my grandchildren one day. If I have them. If I am not contaminated with HIV or even full-blown AIDS.

‘Listen,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a full day today. Can you entertain yourself for a few hours?’

I smile. Can he see how much love I have for him? ‘Sure, I’ll clean the flat or something.’

‘No, don’t do that. I’ve got a woman coming in to do that. She’ll come around about two this afternoon.’

‘I’ll read a book,’ I say quietly.

‘Good girl.’ He pauses. ‘Only thing, don’t leave the apartment will you?’ If you need anything just call me and I’ll arrange for it to be brought to you.’

‘I don’t need anything, Shane.’

We get out of bed and use the bathroom together. It should have been mundane, a little domestic scene, but it is not. It is special. And it makes me think. How stupid we human beings are. We think that just because we do something all the time it is not special. It is. Just think that tomorrow is the last time you will ever brush your teeth with the one you love. See what I mean now?

So we brush our teeth and use the toilet. And he doesn’t appreciate it, because for him it is just another boring task, and he thinks he will do it tomorrow with me too.

When he says, ‘What do you want to have for breakfast?’

I know exactly what I want. ‘I’ll make breakfast,’ I say.

He smiles. ‘You don’t cook.’

‘You’ll eat my burnt toast and like it,’ I say with mock severity.

A strange look crosses his face, but I don’t ask that thing that all lovers who are confident of their place in a relationship ask. ‘What? What are you thinking of?

Instead, I go into the kitchen. I know exactly what I am recreating. I switch on the oven. 220 degree Fahrenheit. I take the cherry plum jam out of the fridge and put a few spoonfuls on two plates. I take the plates to the top of the oven and I put them there so they will be at room temperature when we have it.

I open the oven door and a blast of hot air hits me in the face. Perfect. I put the brioche rolls onto the metal tray and slide them in. I squeeze oranges and pour the juice into two glasses. I place the container of unsalted butter on the table and set it with knifes and spoons and forks. And the whole time Shane sits at the table and watches me with slightly raised eyebrows.

I take the brioches out of the oven, place them on the table, and sit next to him.

Shane looks at me. ‘Thank you.’

‘Bon appétit,’ I say.

I watch him tear into the brioche. I watch the steam rise from the inside. I watch him cut a small bit of cold butter and lay it on the corner of the brioche that he has already spooned the cherry plum jam on. I greedily watch him put it into his mouth. I close my eyes because I know exactly how it feels and tastes in his mouth. Cold butter, hot pastry, warm jam.

I will remember this forever.

We eat and we drink and then it is time for him to leave. He doesn’t kiss me deeply the way people who say goodbye do. He thinks he will be back in a few hours. He thinks I will be here when he comes home. He doesn’t know I love him too much to allow him to ever risk his life for me.

I walk him to the door and kiss him goodbye as if I am kissing him before he goes to work. He walks out to the lift. I stand and watch him. The doors of the lift open. He goes in.

And my heart breaks.

I take a shuddering breath and suddenly he is coming out of the lift. He walks up to me, takes me in his arms and kisses me as if he will die without me, his tongue finding its way into my mouth. Entangling with mine. Pulling mine into his mouth. Sucking my tongue.

When he pulls away I am trembling.

‘I’ll finish that when I come back,’ he says dragging his thumb along my lower lip.

I sigh and lay my head on his chest. I hear his heart beating. A steady fast rhythm. I will miss that.

‘See you later,’ I say.

‘Alligator,’ he says.

Then he walks into the lift and does not come out again.

I close the door and I go to sit at the kitchen table. I look at the breakfast things around me, the crumbs, the smeared jam, the knife slicked with butter, and my heart feels so heavy. I go into his study and I look around. Once I asked him why he lived in this apartment when he could afford something better. He said this was only a place to sleep in. He mostly lived in the country.

I sit at his desk and write him a letter. It is short. Goodbyes are best short. Besides, there is not much to say. Whatever it was, it’s over now. Our time has run out. Soon the wind will blow me away. There is nothing else I can do. I touch my finger to my lips and lay it on the letter. There is a photo album on one of the shelves. I take it down and I turn the pages. His family are all there. I smile to look at their happy faces. How lucky they are.

I come upon one where he is alone. It is a recent one. He is on a boat looking like a film star. His hair wind-tossed, his beautiful body is tanned and relaxed and I wonder who took the picture. Carefully I take the photo out and, without bending it, I slip it into my purse.

Then I go into the bedroom. With my heart weeping, I stand there, memorizing the lingering smell of us, the sun falling on our tangled sheets. I’ll dream of this little piece of heaven forever.

With a loud sob I run out of the apartment.

I take a taxi to my street and ask the driver to drop me off at the corner. Cautiously, I walk towards my apartment building. I look up at the windows and they are all shut, the curtains drawn close. Exactly how I left them. I cross the street and go into the building and up the stairs. The door opens behind me and I whirl around nervously, but it is only the woman from the floor above me. She nods and moves to the lift. I take the stairs.

The corridor is deserted.

I go to my door and listen. There is no sound inside. Very quietly I let myself in and stand for a moment. It is silent and still. Vellichor. Once I would have appreciated it. Now, I want nothing to do with it.

I walk into the middle of my apartment and look around at my scrupulously clean home. Everything in its place. Except for the smashed vase and the flowers scattered everywhere. So he has been here. And he is not happy.

I take a deep breath and steel myself.

Quickly, Snow.

Ignoring the mess, I hurry to the bedroom and unpick the mattress. I take out the money and stuff it into my bag. I don’t take anything else. I am already at the door when I hear my phone ringing. I walk to it.

Lenny.

While it is still ringing, I take a piece of notepaper from a drawer and write on it. I thank him for everything he has done for me, but I tell him I have to return to India, back to my family. I say goodbye and I end it by saying.

Please don’t ever try to contact me again.

I stand at the door and take one last look. The walls seem full of my grief. Other than that, there is nothing of me in here. Then I walk out of that place forever.

I take a taxi to Heathrow airport and buy the next trip to India, which is a noon Air India flight.

‘You have a stop in New Delhi,’ the woman tells me.

‘That’s fine,’ I tell her.

At the check-in counter, the staff appears surprised and almost suspicious that I have no luggage. But I guess I don’t look like a terrorist so they let me pass. I go through passport control and sit down on one of the seats. I feel numb.

On the flight I don’t sleep. I close my eyes and think of Shane. I imagine him coming home and finding me gone. I imagine him calling one of his other women. I imagine, I imagine, I imagine. When the air stewardess comes around with the food trolley I have a raging headache. She gives me a couple of painkillers.