AmericasDarlings (9 page)

His hand clamped around my calf. He squeezed. “Ah. She is
bad
little gorilla. I must teach her lesson. She must not run away!”

He shoved me up against the bed. He came close behind me, kneeling, his warm chest tight against my back, his cock tight against my ass. I felt his breath on my neck.

I squirmed.

His hand reached around me. “Thislittle gorilla, she have nice tits.”

I tried to wiggle free, but he held me tight.

“And nice behind.”

He slapped me—
whack!
—on the hip.

I yelped.

His strong thigh muscles strained against my own. He moved one knee inside mine and, grunting, forced my legs apart. I struggled but I couldn’t get away.

He slapped me again then thumped me—hard—on the small of my back, right where the angry gorilla had hit me. “She must stop fighting!”

I stopped fighting.

“
Good
little gorilla. She obeys her male. What else does she have?”

I gasped as his hand found my wet space. One, then two, then three fingers pushed into me.

“Is this how I teach bad little gorilla?”

“Yes! Yes!”

He leaned into me, forcing my chest onto the bed, making my ass press into his groin. He sucked hard on my neck, making the skin pull up. It stung, just a little. A glimmer of a worry flickered in my mind—sucking on me with such gusto? Wasn’t that a bad idea?—but I pushed the unwelcome thought away. How could I worry about his lips on me when his fingers wiggled inside my pussy and my hip still stung from his slaps and I still felt the aching thrill of his fist on my back? How could I even think of stopping when I felt so good?

I moaned.

“I think she needs more teaching.”

“Yes!”

Then his cock was at my ass, pushing, pushing, pushing and in a burst of fireworks—I
swear
I saw fireworks!—he was deep within me and I was floating in an endless, sensual sea.

We moved together, riding the waves.

He whispered soft Russian words into my ear. I imagined it was an old poem about lovers lost in the snow—what do I know? It could have been. He took his fingers from inside me and held me firmly by the hips with both hands, holding me steady as he thrust his cock deep into my ass again and again and again. He nudged my knees farther apart, adjusting me closer to the ground, tilting my pelvis just so. Then he went at me with renewed vigor. Remember what I said earlier about cock control, about stamina? Dmitri was a master of both.

It was fantastic. And I know fantastic.

But then—what the hell?—the room flooded with light.

Dmitri froze. I froze.

We hadn’t locked the door. Were we idiots?

Blinded, Dmitri and I turned our heads, squinting, to find Alexi staring in at us. I spat out a scraggly mess of hair. What a sight Dmitri and I must have made! The two of us, illuminated by a shaft of white light, kneeling on the floor stomach to ass, Dmitri coupling the hell out of me.

My mouth hung open in shock. My entire body trembled.

The cock in my ass trembled too.

Alexi—the friend with a bar in the common room, or so I’d been told, because I’d seen no bar at the party—stepped into the room. “Dmitri!” he said, surprised. “And…Leah?”

I repeat, what the hell? Walking in on us like that? This was no performance!

Alexi closed the door behind him, took a step toward us. “I watch, yes?”

Hell, no.

Well, maybe.

Why not? He’d already had an eyeful. Besides…it made everything that much more exciting. I blinked up at him then nodded.

I was screwing myself just by being here.

I might as well let him see Dmitriscrewing me.

Alexi grinned then crossed the floor to us. He undressed. I’d seen him naked—in performance several times and at the party just now—and the man was gorgeous. Black hair. Sculpted chest. Strong, slim legs. Gorgeous. He hunkered down on the floor next to us, leaned over, kissed me hard then kissed Dmitri even harder.

Dmitri shuddered with pleasure.

Oh. I got it. They were more than friends.

Dmitri said something.

Alexi answered.

What did they say? Did it concern me?

Dmitri grunted. Then he thrust his cock up my ass as hard as he could, mashing me into the bed. Again and again he made the bed rock against the wall.

I cried out.

“We…will…show him
good
sex,” Dmitri growled into my ear.

I gasped.

I gasped because I likedit. My God, but I liked it.

Alexi said something.

Dmitri answered.

Alexi laughed. He leaned over us. He touched my hot cheek then ran his hand down my neck, my shoulder, my collarbone, until he held my breast cupped in his hand. “Leah,” he whispered, “you like the Russian men?”

“I do!”

He pinched my nipple and laughed quietly.

Dmitri moved like a man possessed, riding my ass as if his life depended on it.

How delightful it was! I burned with their touch—a Russian party of our own, right there, right then, just the three of us. Heaven.

Again they exchanged words in Russian.

What are they saying?

Alexi’s voice sounded hoarse. “You like
two
Russian men? Right now?”

“What?”

“We both couple with you! Yes?”

Words failed me, but I nodded so hard that I thought my head might topple off.

“Good!” said Alexi, giving my nipple a quick twist, making me gasp. I saw his enormous erection waiting for me.

I wanted it. I wanted both cocks. I wanted them
now
.

“Leah, we move now,” said Dmitri, “Ready?” Still clutching my hips tight to his groin, Dmitri nudged us away from the bed. We slid our knees along the floor, pinned together by his cock, making room for Alexi to slide underneath me.

He did, nestling himself under my belly, my breasts grazing his chest, his legs tangled up with Dmitri’s, his arms folded around my waist. The three of us were tightly interlocked. And we were about to get even more interlocked.

I couldn’t wait.

“Hello, little
matryoshka
doll,” Alexi said, looking up at me. I smelled beer on his breath. “You know Russian
matryoshka
doll? They nest in each other. Like Dmitri and me! We nest in you!” He laughed at his own joke.

“Yes,” I gasped, “I like
matryoshka
dolls!”

“Me too,” said Dmitri. His hands left my hips and found Alexi’s. Moving as one, Dmitri and I slowly lowered ourselves onto Alexi’s waiting cock. It didn’t quite line up with my waiting, more than willing vagina—but being the prize-winning sexual gymnasts we were, we shifted and arranged ourselves until I felt that nice warm cock slide into me to join Dmitri’s as a most welcome guest in my body.

I screamed.

Maybe I didn’t. But I sure felt like it.

I thought I would faint with the fullness of it. I’d done this before—we’d all had coupling experiences in groups of three and even four sometimes—but wow.

Just…wow.

We moved together, a multi-limbed creature lost in a sea of delight. Alexi found my nipple—the same one, again—and clamped on to it with his teeth, his tongue flicking the very end. What was with these Russians and my left nipple? I wasn’t complaining though.

Far from it.

“Oh!” I shrieked, as a teeth-rattling shudder came over me. “Oh my God!”

A finger—whose?—found my clit, caressing me, even as Dmitri’s cock held sway in my ass and Alexi’s filled my pussy.

Oh my God.

I came in waves that didn’t stop for something like half an hour.

Well, it
felt
like half an hour.

All movement stopped. We lay like that, three
matryoshka
dolls, just as Alexi had said, nestled tightly together. I rested on Alexi’s hard chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, enjoying Dmitri’s weight where he lay slumped over my back, and feeling his heart too. Could either of them feel
my
heart?

“Um…” I said after a while, “I hate to ruin this, but I’m kind of getting squished…”

Dmitri laughed. He pulled away from me, patted me on the butt. Then I pulled away from Alexi. The spell was broken.

We were
matryoshka
dolls no longer.

Alexi sprawled on the floor on his side. He looked to me like a Roman nobleman, replete with sex and alcohol, his head resting on his hand with his elbow propped on the floor. He looked at us. “You two are friends?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Moscow,” said Dmitri. “Last spring.”

I stood up, swaying. “Guys. I’ve got to go. Tomorrow. You know.”

“Yes, we know,” said Dmitri.

“Big day tomorrow,” said Alexi. “I will win medal!”

“No!” Dmitri gave Alexi a playful shove. “I win gold medal!”

“Not if I can help it,” I said.

Quickly Dmitri and I pulled on our clothes as Alexi watched. His cock lay across his thigh, still erect, his eyes begging for more
.
Dmitri looked at him, said something in Russian.

Alexi grinned.

Ah. The party would go on without me.

Dmitri held the door open for me. “I walk with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want.”

He took my hand. I grabbed my bag then we headed down the dim, hushed hallway, not speaking. We went down an echoing flight of stairs then another hallway.

And with one last kiss in front of my room, he turned and walked away, back to Alexi. I watched him go.

I sighed.

Three forty-eight in the morning.

What the hell did I just do to myself?

I let myself into the room.

The lump under the covers that was Soraya didn’t move. I shut the door as quietly as I could—the tiny
click
it made wouldn’t wake a mouse—and slipped off my shoes before padding across the floor. A thin light shone under the bathroom door, casting shadows over everything. I sat down on the bed, drew my knees up to my chin, draped my arms around my legs and closed my eyes. I ought to feel pretty damned good after so much sex, but I didn’t.

Coach Bob would be furious.

Coach Debbie would be disappointed.

Benson would be alarmed. And he’d be angry with me, with good reason.

Soraya would feel left out.

I’d think about my mom later. Perhaps—just maybe—I
had
overreacted.

And me…how did
I
feel? I studied the machine-made lace blanket on my bed. I traced its airy lines with my index finger. How did Ifeel? I wasn’t sure. I knew I’d screwed up. The fact I’d had fun didn’t even come into it.

I wanted this gold medal more than anything else in the world—yet look what I’d done. I wouldn’t get a lick of sleep tonight. Not one minute. What had I been thinking? I was at the Olympics! Tomorrow I’d be competing against the best athletes in the world and I would do it tired and cranky and sleep-deprived and very, very annoyed with myself.

How was that for self-sabotage?

Never mind the question of whether sexual gymnasts belonged in the Olympics. Did
I
belong there if I couldn’t demonstrate one ounce of self-control? Maybe I did need to be managed after all, like my teammates thought. A tear tipped out of my eye and rolled down my cheek.

Soraya sat up. “You’re back.”

I didn’t answer. I just plucked at the bedcover.

“Where were you?”

I sighed. “With the Russians.”

“Dmitri?”

I nodded. “And Alexi.”

“Did you couple?”

“Yeah.”

“
Okay.
You just made my chances of getting a medal go up.
Way
up.”

I smiled. Soraya could do that.

“Come here,” she said, “you need some girl love.”

She patted the bed next to her and threw back the covers. I unfolded myself and took the four steps across the room. She scooched over. I slid in next to her and she put her arm around my waist, spooning with me. I snuggled into her warmth.

“I really fucked up,” I whispered.

“Yeah.” She was quiet for a minute. “But you came back. You might have sat up this late anyway, knitting. You know you do sometimes.”

“Maybe. But that’s different.”

“And you enjoyed yourself tonight, didn’t you? It wasn’t a total loss.”

“I have to tell you about this crazy game the Russians play. You’d like it.”

“Later.” She nuzzled my neck. “We should try to sleep.”

“I know. I can’t just yet.” I took a breath. “Soraya. My mom and Coach Bob are screwing.”

“I know. She told me. When she was looking for you.”

“That’s why I ran off with the Russians.”

“I figured.”

“She’s allowed. I
want
her to have a sex life! So why does it piss me off so much?”

Soraya sighed. “It’s like everything else that sets you off, Leah.”

“Tell me.”

“You’re overreacting. We’ve already discussed all this.”

“Tell me again. Please. I need to hear it.”

“Fine.” She took a breath, thinking. “You take things the wrong way. You can’t see the whole picture. You jump to conclusions. You think everything is about you. You think the world is out to get you. And then you run off and prove it to yourself.”

I was silent for a long minute. “I’m really screwed up, aren’t I?”

“Not all the time.”

We lay together on her bed. She kissed my neck then threw her long, slender leg over mine. I felt her bush press against my butt.

“Why do you all put up with me?”

“You don’t know?”

I didn’t answer.

She hugged me tight. “Leah, you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re kind. You’re generous. You’re funny. You’re beautiful and talented—and you’re tortured. Like that artist, what’s his name? Vincent van Gogh? You’re like him. You could be him!”

“Vincent van Gogh? Really?”

“Yes! You’re exactly like him! You’re screwed up—but you can’t take any drugs for it because it ruins your passion, your art. You know that.”

I did know that. I knew it only too well. The more I hurt inside, the better I performed. Lucky me.

“Your anguish drives you, sweetie. One day you’ll be the greatest of all of us.”

I spider-walked my fingers up her leg. “If I don’t self-destruct, you mean.”