Beautiful Revenge (A Good Wife #1) - Sienna Blake Page 0,4

you so fucking bad.”

Jesus Christ. Those dirty words coming off her tongue, out of her innocent plump mouth, sends another aching pulse through me.

“Alena, stop,” I beg. She has to stop. I can’t stop her.

She’s too far gone.

I can do nothing but watch as the thunder shudders through her, the lightning snapping her fingers into fists in my shirt. Her lashes flutter closed, shutting off those hypnotic green eyes. I can smell her desire, thick in the air like summer rain. God, how I want to taste it. I want to lick every last drop. Her pink mouth drops open. A siren’s cry releases from inside her. She is the most stunning creature I have ever seen.

I’m a mass of coiled, painful tension as I watch her come down from the pleasure I am not allowing myself to enjoy with her yet. I’m shaking, my fingers gripping her like claws.

Seven more days.

I’ve waited so long for her. Seven days shouldn’t be so hard. For some reason these seven days feel painfully swollen out towards eternity.

Stay strong, Dimi.

Her eyes flutter open. Once again I am trapped in her stare. I can see by the way she chews her bottom lip she expects me to be angry with her.

“That was so fucking beautiful,” I whisper.

She smiles, reaching down between us for my aching dick. For a second I almost let her. If I do, I can kiss good-fucking-bye to my morals. I grab her wrist and hold her hand away, attempting a stern look.

She pouts. “I just want to make it good for you, too.”

“You do.”

Her frown deepens. “You won’t even let me make you come.”

That’s because I know if she touches me, I’ll give in and take everything. I’ll let myself sink into her precious untouched folds. “You will. Sixteen is only seven days away.”

She sighs. “I guess.”

I smile at her and rub my nose along hers. “Besides, the first time I come with you, it’ll be inside you. You’ll be able to feel me, to watch me fall apart.”

She shudders. Her tiny pink tongue slides out to wet her bottom lip. That little move has my dick screaming.

Mother Russia, give me strength.

I shuffle her to face the other way before I lose all control, and tuck her against me with a delicate touch as if she is made of porcelain. When she shivers again my lungs squeeze so hard that it hurts. She is my everything. My heart. My breath. My sun and spring.

I think of the box I have hidden away for her birthday and the demure white lace inside it. She said once that she’d love to know what having pretty, matching underwear felt like. I splurged and bought them on sale from one of those specialty shops. It wasn’t every day that a girl became a woman. I want to make it perfect for her. So fucking perfect.

I have to stop thinking of my lamb in white lace panties or else I’ll lose my mind.

She coughs, the sound sharp and dry. My fingers dig into her side.

“Alena?” I say, worry clear in my voice.

“I’m fine. Just…something in my throat.”

She’s lying. She’s getting sick. I need to keep her warm. But our tiny studio apartment, no insulation, single-paned windows, in a near-derelict building is so expensive to heat. We need to get out of Russia. Somewhere warmer. Anywhere warmer. Somewhere where two unskilled teens can find work. I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining a large stone woman in robes holding a torch in her hand. America. The land of opportunity. The land of the free. One day we’ll get to see the great lady statue greeting us on our arrival.

I think back to the pathetic slip of rubles I have hidden behind a vent. That’s my get-the-fuck-out-of-here fund. At the moment, there is only enough for one plane ticket to America plus change. For the last few months I’ve barely added to it. I’m doing my best. But my best is never good enough.

Anger curls in my gut. Hello, my old friend. Sometimes I’m not even sure why I’m angry, I just know that I am. I’m angry at God for bestowing such shitty lives to Alena and me. I’m angry because it seems that no matter how hard I work at the factory, I can’t seem to get ahead. I’m angry that this piece of shit government doesn’t care about us. I hate that there are always more bills to pay. Rent. Food. Heating. Electricity. School books.