Only Pretend (16 page)

The glass froze on his lips.

As the string grew, became a rope fit for hanging myself with, I ignored all signs to back off. It was irrational, illogical... but my gut said it was true. “You couldn't handle that guy last night, Marat. He felt me up and you...”

“I what?” he whispered, still as stone.

“You
wanted
me.” My jaw fell open at my words. The noose grew tighter. “It messed with you, didn't it? Seeing someone else doing to me what
you've
been doing, and...” I trailed off, sinking deeper into the insanity of the situation.

Though he placed the glass down softly, his movement made me jump. “And?”

“And—and why aren't you telling me to shut up, making me stop talking?”

Leonide twisted the glass in place. The liquid swayed, the color of a moon behind toxic clouds. “Because you're wrong. It's as simple as that.”

Swallowing around my lump was difficult.
I can't be wrong. I saw his face, I saw everything.
“But you looked so sick.”

“So many girls, Celeste.” With a tenderness not matching the acid in his eyes, Leonide reached over to stroke my hair. I was too shell-shocked to move away. “I never once felt a thing for any of them besides pure lust. Why would you think you were
any
different?”

“You... you came into my room, and then...”

Chuckling deep in his throat, Leonide's grin went up on one side. “Ah, so that's it. You're bothered that you're wrong about me.”

I'm not wrong! I... what else could...

“Celeste,” he said, coiling fingers into my blonde strands. “Have you fallen for me?”

The noose choked me into silence.

“Is that why you're so sad, why you argue and fight so much?” Outside, the world had gone ashen; nothing rivaled the darkness in his gaze. “You want me to love you. You wish I did. My sweet girl, let me make this clear to you.” His fist throttled my scalp, but I was too confused to make a sound. “I don't love you. I never will.”

He released me. I stayed exactly where I was. What was the thing tearing inside of me? His words shouldn't have surprised or hurt or done anything. It should have been his fingers yanking my hair that brought the pinpricks behind my eyes.

What was wrong with me?

I was in a daze when he told me to stand; didn't feel the ground while we walked out the door. Through the window of the restaurant, I spotted Ira looking after us. Her green eyes were unfairly hopeful.

You were wrong,
I thought sullenly, the car pulling us away.
You called him an angel.

And you were wrong.

Celeste

W
e began to endure—or I suppose just I endured—our old routine. Leonide kept my door locked, only letting me out when he wanted me to do something. We talked less, my mind swimming with a disconcerting soup.

He'd told me so bluntly, there was nothing in him that craved me beyond my body.

It should have helped me.

For fucking sakes, why didn't it help me?

Time shifted, revolving around when he would take me from my barren room. Breakfast, chores, lunch, chores, and what became abundantly clear was that he wasn't touching me sexually any longer. He was close to avoiding me.

Nothing made sense any more.

Least of all... how I became so aware of it. His lack of attention, his mile long distance when sitting a few feet from me. Leonide had said he only ever felt lust.

So why had he quit acting on it?

Questions rose and sank in me like bits of flotsam on the waves. Among it all, the revelations Ira had given me floated the strongest.
She's so happy, so in love. Or she said so, anyway. Jobs, relationships, food for their bellies; was Leonide a messiah to this town?

Hard heels clipped outside my door. I actually heard him coming, for once. I'd been sitting on my bed, dressed in a flowing green skirt and pale pink top. Leonide had become less caring about my outfits. I'd pushed further, taking more concealing and modest items from the closets. Still, he would just nod and wave me from the room.

The door swayed, his eyes finding me easily. “You're awake. Good.”

All business, as usual.
“I was waiting for us to go to breakfast, sir.”

Leonide considered me for a moment that stretched. One heel bumped the door shut behind him; my hackles went up. After close to a week of bland repetition, this...

This was different.

“Today, you'll have your breakfast in here.”

I searched his face for a hint of what he had planned.
He wants me to eat in here?
Nothing about his presence was welcoming. Double meanings flashed through my brain.
No. He couldn't mean that.
Mounting terror made me drop my eyes, staring at the front of his trousers.
Oh god.
He saw me connect the dots; told me I was right with his tiny smirk. “Wait. Don't do this.”

“Don't do what?” Without closing the gap between us, Leonide reached into me with his low running voice. “Tell me. Say it out loud, I want to hear it from your lips.”

Hyperventilating, panic swam in my vision.
I can't say that! I won't. I—what do I do?

He approached me patiently, heel to toe. “Can't say it because you're shy, or because you want this to happen?”

Do I want this?

And then he was on me, gripping my jaw, clawing both cheeks with the thumb and fingers of one hand. Sitting on the mattress, my face was level with the button on his pants. I could see the tiny, molded letters that only expensive brands bothered with.

Staring down at me, Leonide cocked his head. “Aren't you hungry, sweet girl?” He took my left palm, placed it on his hip. “I'm going to give you a choice. I can cuff your hands behind your back, truss you and force my cock down your throat.” The sly grin he'd worn so easily when I'd first met him returned at full strength. “Or you can suck me off with the freedom you're so keen to idolize.”

Fire crawled up my spine.
The option to use my hands isn't giving me freedom.
But I knew what I didn't want. Being tied up let him abuse me too easily. Looking away, I gave a curt nod.

His hand left my jaw; pet the top of my head. “Is that a yes? You'll be a good little cock-sucker?”

Every inch of my body went crimson. It was a wonder steam didn't rise. “Yes, sir.”

“Yes sir, what?”

“I'll—I'll be a good cock-sucker.” I wanted to dive through the cracks in the floor. Especially with how my belly felt the first, buttery licks of arousal.

“I appreciate the optimism.” He lifted his hands, folded back the cuffs on his sleeves. “Last time, your inexperience showed. Vitaly will expect a wife who can do better.”

Vitaly.
The name soured my stomach. I thought of Ira; how Nestor had kissed her cheek.
Could I really learn to love a man like Vitaly? Someone so perverse, he'd ask for his 'wife' to be trained like a dog?

Over me, Leonide cleared his throat. I knew what he was expecting. Taking a long breath, I felt for his zipper. Whether it was me or sadism, Leonide's cock was already straining to escape the fabric. He pulsed under my palm. I startled, his bemusement in my ears.

“Take it out,” he said.

Don't tell me how to step by step lick your dick.
But my indignation wasn't enough. Nothing could beat down the growing urges. Opening his trousers shouldn't have been such work; I was shaking, fighting to move forward while mentally screaming to abandon my task. Emotionally, he was so far away. I sensed it. What could let a man be detached while a girl knelt to suck on his prick?

Leonide, what's making you push and pull me? What's turned you from the charming, if perverse, man you were at the start?

And why the hell am I cracking my sanity trying to dissect it?

His cock bounced into the light, hitting me on the cheek. Leonide was saying nothing, only watching me with clinical interest. Wetting my lips, I tasted his shaft.
Get it over with.

That was all that was left to do.

Licking him down, his wild scent invaded my nose. My fingers curled around his base, held it so I could swallow him. It was an impossible fit, I choked the moment I tried. He remained silent; Leonide didn't even reward me with cruel laughter.

If it weren't for how he poisoned my senses, I could have been sucking anybody off. I closed my eyes, ran with the thought.
Think of someone else.
But there was no one. I'd never craved Jones like this, certainly no one before him.

Shuddering at how my heart fluttered, I imagined it was a growing tumor.
He's standing there, silent, uncaring. He's only doing this so I won't disappoint his client.
Leonide was unfeeling and empty, and even knowing that, I was awash with desire for him.

Get it over with.
It became my mantra.
Ignore how you're breathing, stop guilting yourself about how your fucking heart is doing flips.
I had to stop trying to play detective with my feelings.
He accused me of wanting him.
My fingers wrapped harder on his shaft.
If he was right, if on some level I DID want him, why would it matter?

Leonide was handing me off to another man.

He said he would never love me.

Groaning at my stupidity, I pulled off of his dick, drew in air. There were tears welling in my eyes. I blamed how I'd been gagging on his length.

“What's wrong?” he asked, fisting himself and wiping off my saliva.

“Nothing.”
Get it over with.
“Nothing, sir.” I reached for him and started again.

His palm was curled over his cock; my lips kissed it when I sank past his swollen tip. He stayed like that, never commenting on if I was doing good or bad. Spit ran down my chin, my body vibrating with desperation.

Just hurry,
I thought, spreading my jaw to take him in further.
Just finish off, get it over with.

Just leave me alone so I can stop feeling like this.

Abruptly he stepped back, his manhood freed from me. Dulled eyes stared, walling off his thoughts. “What is it?” I blurted, rubbing at my lips.

Leonide shoved himself into his boxers, zipping his pants quickly. “Nothing,” he replied. Was he mocking me, repeating me from earlier?

Composed and prim, he opened the door.
He's leaving?
There were no words between us. He didn't glance back, just slid out of view. The clap of the door shutting should have been a finality. It was the
lack
of sound, a familiar click that never came, that flooded me with excitement.

He hadn't locked the door.

A part of me couldn't believe it. The rest of me, the pieces that refused to remain on my knees, commanded me to move. Gripping the knob, I bit back a gasp as it turned in my palm. Through that crack, I stared out into the long hallway.

Leonide was walking away, hands buried in his pockets. If it had been possible, he'd have torn the floor up with his steps.

Where is he going?
Consistently, the man had led me down the left, towards the stairs to the floors below. Heading fast down the other side like he was, I felt my curiosity bubbling.
Don't follow him,
I thought, even as I started creeping over the wood floorboards.
This is idiotic and dangerous!
Recalling how detached he'd seemed, the firm length of his shaft buried past my lips... how he'd then, randomly, abandoned the situation and fled...

I wanted to understand what was happening.

My intuition was begging me to chase him. Wherever he was going, there had to be
some
answers.
If he spots me, if I accidentally corner him, I'll—I'll confront him.
It was laughable. Yet, if I didn't ask him now, the questions would erupt eventually. Better to bring them up will they were fresh than let them cook.

Leonide rounded a corner. Approaching, I saw him slip into a doorway. Holding my breath, I shoved down the fear that had glued my knees together. It was amazing that I didn't fall. Hell, even more impressive that I didn't turn tail and give up on my hunt.

Get it over with.
My new mantra was useful.

The door wasn't closed all the way. Inside, I heard voices; only one of them was recognizable. They were muffled, but Leonide's timbre had become tattooed in my subconscious. Breathing in to still my trembles, I gently widened the crack. It was plenty of space for one eye to see into that room.

The back of Leonide's head was illuminated on the edges by computer light. He sat at a desk near a bed far bigger than any one man needed. Cobalt walls, white rugs, and a few fancy jackets hanging in the open closet; this was his bedroom.

The novelty of staring into where he slept faded as he spoke. “Yes, it's good to see you, too.” I knew he wasn't talking to me—how could he be—but I flinched.

“I didn't expect you to call me until next week. I trust everything is fine?” The voice came from the computer.

A video call,
I realized.
But with who?
Another man, his accent blunt. I was betting the stranger had Russian in his blood, the way I was still convinced Leonide did.

Leonide bent away from the screen. “Your fiance. She's... would you consider taking her early?”

And then I knew. He didn't need to say the man's name.
Vitaly!
And they were talking about
me
. Breathing quietly through my nose, I strained to listen.

“Early?” Vitaly tested the word, stretched it out like a piece of gum. “Mr. Vetrov, I've never heard of you suggesting such a thing. What's happened?”

“Celeste is proving... a challenge.”

“A
challenge
,” Vitaly mused.

Rocking forward in his chair, Leonide flattened his voice. “I'd never suggest this normally.”

There was a moment of silence. “Your family has a reputation, Leonide. I chose you to match a bride for me because you were the
best
. Or your father was, anyway.” From my angle, I saw Leonide crush his hands into fists on his thighs. “You still have fifteen days to make her into what I asked. Do you honestly think she's the first woman beyond your skills, or... is something else going on?”