Chapter Text
Alina woke up slowly. Languid warmth and a thin stream of sunlight in her eyes pulled her out of sleep. She was more comfortable than she had been in a long time, in a bed much more luxurious than her rickety twin in the apartment she shared with Marie. She made to stretch, wanting to make the most of the soft mattress and silky sheets that the swanky hotel provided, but a warm heavy arm stopped her.
Mal, her heart rejoiced. Finally. She had been waiting for him to notice her for years — her whole life, it sometimes felt like — and now he was finally here and she couldn’t even regret that how they got there was a far off blur in her mind.
Well, she planned to remember this, waking up so safe and secure in masculine arms, arms that had tugged her close so many times for brotherly hugs and brisk forehead kisses. Finally, finally, her heartbeat echoed in her ears. But her traitorous body was catching up; noticing the brush of wiry chest hair on her bare back, the lack of calluses on the large hand spanning across her stomach, the cool weight of a ring on its fourth finger.
Not Mal, and a married man on top of that.
Oh god, what had she done?
Alina began to squirm, hoping to extricate herself from his grasp without notice. Hoping she could fall into the floor and disappear. Instead his hand smoothed down her belly, her pubic bone, to cup her cunt.
“Alina,” a husky voice - hint of an Oxbridge accent - murmured in her ear. She shivered against him, his warm breath ruffling the wisps of hair at her temple.
And oh, —
She remembered that voice, that man. Not Mal, she had lost him and the rest of their friends. Remembered stumbling to a new club at Caesar’s with a hand light on her lower back and feet heavy in her heels Remembered the man buying her a drink, a French 75, old-fashioned, but then so was he. At least 10 years older than her, and startlingly attentive. She remembered the fluttery feeling of alcohol and his undivided attention.
She tried to turn into his chest, get a look at the man she spent the night with, but with a curl of his fingers he froze her in place.
“Mm, still so wet, malyshka,” he groaned. His fingers drew a featherlight circle around her messy hole, not dipping in or trailing upwards. Alina arched helplessly against him. “Still full of me, isn’t that right? Gotta keep it all inside you like a good girl.”
She gasped. Who was this man, talking to her like the voice in her head when she pushed her vibrator inside her?
“Wait, wait,” she said, jerking against his firm chest. He paused, moving that large hand, skin-warmed ring and all, to rest against her pubic bone. Alina sighed deeply, closing her eyes. She needed a moment to collect herself before she looked her mistake in the face.
“Alina?” the man asked. Great, he knew her name and she didn’t remember his.
She turned in bed, wiggling in his surprisingly gentle hold. His hand stayed in place, resting on her ass now, but not pushing her into the sizable erection she felt against her thigh. She wished she could hide her face in his lovely chest. It looked comfortable, homey. Sculpted, but soft. And after a night of drinking — and sex, clearly — he still smelled musky and expensive.
She was overwhelmed, but in the best way — like had consumed her until she was in a sensory deprivation tank of his making; floating on this bed surrounded by luxury and him. She should have felt ashamed, confused, scared. She only felt safe.
“It’s you,” Alina gasped, head tipped back to look at his face; a face she actually knew.
From exactly one year ago, when she had initiated the best kiss of her life with a stranger at a bar, surrounded by bodies and champagne and the ringing of some horrible remix of Auld Lang Syne.
He had been beautiful and intense in the flickering, pulsing atmosphere of the club. She had been gloriously tipsy and tactile after too much gin and champagne. When the countdown struck she had slipped from her friends towards the booth in the back; the booth from where he had been nursing a dark drink and watching her.
She had slid into the seat next to him by the chorus of five and into his firm lap by one. And the kiss — it had been heady, smoky, all-consuming. She would have gone home with him that night if a man hadn’t approached, laid a hand on his shoulder, and leaned down to whisper in his ear.
Alina had melted into the crowd before her kisser had been able to stop her.
“It’s me, pet.”
“But, I - what are you doing here?”
“Ah, so you don’t remember.” That revelation made is mouth quirk. “I told you not to have so much to drink, little wife.”
Little wife. Why did that make her heart flutter and her aching center pulse?
She scoffed. “Maybe you had too much to drink, too. Last time I checked, I wasn’t anyone’s wife.”
His dark gaze flickered. The teasing gaze turned hard for just a moment, and then a smirk curled his lips; mean and so, so gorgeous, and Alina felt a horrible pit in her stomach.
“Oh,” she whispered. He chuckled, saying nothing, but his hand brushed soothingly up and down her bare back.
Well then. Her brain felt as fuzzy and dry as her mouth. She had married this man; this man who she was apparently cursed to make poor, lust-driven decisions over on New Year’s Eve. At least she was consistent.
“Do I at least get to know my husband’s name, then?”
“Aleksander,” he said with a grin. “But as I told you last night, you, my darling wife, can call me Sasha.”
Mal refused to be pulled from the blackjack table for their table reservation at Tao. He shook Alina’s guiding hand off his bicep, muttering about a hot streak. Alina huffed, it was New Year’s Eve and they had all day tomorrow to gamble.
“C’mon Alina,” Nadia urged, looping an arm through hers and leading them away from Mal. “You don’t have to waste your night just because he is.”
So she didn’t. She tried to forget that she had only agreed to this expensive trip because Mal had pleaded with her to come. That she had spent hours picking out the perfect outfit for tonight, something to make him notice — a short, sparkly dress with a low neckline and lower back. Something more revealing than she could dream of wearing on New Year’s back at home.
How stupid she had been. Resentment mixed with tequila burned her throat and stomach until she was numb to them. All she felt was the pulsing of the music and the bodies pressed against hers. She lost herself in the excitement of the holiday crowd; leaning into hands that grasped her hips and chests that brushed her own.
By the time the DJ announced ten minutes to midnight, Alina’s mood was as bubbly as the champagne being passed out. She bopped through the crush of people in search of Nadia and Marie, smiling and laughing at everything in her way.
Neither Marie nor Nadia was at their table when she finally made it back to the VIP section. In fact, the area looked completely deserted, with only Alina’s black clutch tucked on the bench where she had left it for safekeeping.
Nadia
Went to the Bellagio with a girl
so hot
Marie
Left with Dubrov don’t wait up!!
Great. Her friends were hooking up, and she was alone in a club on New Year’s Eve without so much as a text from Mal. She flopped back into the couch with a huff. She wasn’t prone to pouting, but she felt the telltale quiver of her bottom lip. She bit down, hard, tilting her head back to observe the neon lights.
As the five minute warning went out Alina felt the couch next to her shift with added weight.
“A lovely thing like you shouldn’t be alone on New Year’s,” A smooth, deep voice said in her ear. The brush of a beard against her neck made her jerk back. The man to whom the voice belonged was sitting too close for a stranger, even in an atmosphere thick with hedonism. And he was quite frankly, the most attractive man Alina had ever seen. Lean and dark, and looking at her with a heat that scorched her blood.
“I’m not alone now, am I?” She leaned in to say. Up close she could see how soft his button up looked — clearly more expensive than her entire outfit including her splurge shoes that had cost an entire paycheck.
He smirked, raising a glass of dark liquor to his mouth in silent agreement. Alina’s eyes traced the bob of his throat as he swallowed. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips as he did the same. He noticed.
“I’m Alina.”
“Aleksander.”
He leaned in to kiss her, and she realized she hadn’t even heard the final countdown to midnight, so enthralled with him she had been.
It was a decadent kiss, languid and unhurried, nothing like the rushed, carnal exchanges she usually had before a hookup. This man, Aleksander, kissed like he was going to consume her — keep her, even — licking into her mouth, dominating her pace. It was the best kiss she had ever experienced, except —
“Do I know you?” she gasped, tugging herself away from his lips. He moved his sucking kisses down her throat, ignoring her question in favor of tasting her skin.
“Alek-Aleksander,” she stuttered when he sucked behind her ear. She tugged his hair insistently. “Have we met before?”
He grinned, and Alina didn’t know if the swooping sensation in her stomach was from excitement or fear.
“Can’t believe it,” Alina panted into Aleksander’s mouth. “Can’t believe you found me.”
His thick fingers twisted inside her, causing her to buck her hips harshly against the pedestal bathroom sink.
“Of course I did, pet. You were made for me, don’t you feel it?”
She nodded fervently. She felt everything.
“What a pretty little cunt, so warm and sticky for me.” He bit into her neck and sucked hard. Alina mewled at the rush of sensation. “Bet you’ve been so hungry for me baby. Have you been waiting for me? Waiting for me to fill you up?”
He twisted his fingers again, brushing against that spongy spot inside of her that she could never reach on her own. She nodded pitifully and clutched his wrist; desperate for him to stop or keep going, she wasn’t sure.
For him.
Yes, she had been waiting for so long and of course, now it slots into place. It had been for him all along, her mysterious stranger. Not Mal. Not anyone else. Her Aleksander.
“Of course you did, baby,” he hummed. The condescension in his voice made her shiver. “Knew as soon as I saw you what a good girl you would be for me.”
“Yes, Aleksander, yes,” Alina gasped out.
“Sasha, pet. Call me Sasha.”
The large hand that had been gripping her waist trailed down her belly to her clit, where he pressed firmly, insistently until she stuttered and jerked against him, coming with a wail.
As she got her bearings, post the blissful, orgasm-induced empty-headedness, Alina became aware of Sasha grinding against her ass. He was hard and thick through his slacks, but he was grinding leisurely — like he wasn’t in a rush. Alina thought men were always in a hurry to finish, at least that was what her college fumbling and Mal’s comments led her to believe. Aleksander didn’t seem to be in a hurry to do anything, content to let her slump between his cock and the sink for as long as she needed.
Then, she became aware of his voice.
“Gonna keep you in my bed, malyshka. Going to fill you up all the time, until you feel me even when I’m not there.” He said. He was nosing the nape of her neck, occasionally letting his lips brush her flushed skin. “Make you mine and keep you.”
Alina’s heart fluttered. Belonging sounded so sweet from his plush lips.
“Wanna be yours, Sasha,” she whimpered. She was still drunk and fuzzy enough not to think about the inevitable ending of this encounter. An imbalance in the scales of fate righted and then over. Alina was a realist. But post-orgasm Alina, she was a romantic. “You were meant to find me tonight.”
His hips jerk against hers roughly, making her mewl.
She tilted her head to kiss him, letting him devour her mouth with soft lips and harsh nips. His beard scratched against her chin and she realized she had never kissed a man with a beard before. The rasp shot a slew of tingles down her spine, and she whimpered against his lips.
“My perfect girl.” He was grinding against her ass now, pressing his palm into her stomach. “My little wife.”
She gasped, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He looked crazed, strung out on her. His white button down was wrinkled from the friction of their bodies.
“Yes, yeah.” She circled her hips with his, helping him towards his release. In the mirror her mouth hung open. She wanted to drop to her knees on the harsh tile of the bathroom floor, wanted to see him, wanted to feel the weight of his cock against her tongue.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me what you want.”
“Sasha —”
She snuck her hand behind her, reaching for his belt buckle. Aleksander grabbed her wrist in an instant, retching her hand away, never stopping the roll of their hips.
“No, desperate little thing. You don’t get it until you tell me.”
“You,” she warbled. Her voice sounded high and thin to her own ears. “Want your cock, Sasha.”
He just chuckled, pouted at her reflection. Tears of frustration and lust pooled in her eyes. “Very pretty, malyshka, but not what I meant.”
Alina knew. Knew what she was supposed to say, what he wanted to hear. The words clawing up her throat since he gave them voice. It was ridiculous, it was romantic nonsense, it was —
“Wanna be your little wife, daddy. Please.”
The words were out before she was even aware of it. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but Aleksander’s mouth was there to catch them.
“There, there, baby, no need to cry. That wasn’t so difficult was it?” He turned her around by her shoulders, causing Alina to stumble from the loss of his weight against her. “Now why don’t you show daddy how much you want it, pet?”
Alina nodded eagerly, saliva pooling in her mouth as she dropped to her knees.
Sasha cooed at her as she sucked and licked — and then gagged and choked — keeping a running dialogue as she worked him. But on her knees Alina could barely hear him. Between the wet sounds of her mouth and the static in her head she could only make out that phrase, the one that made her tingle and shiver.
Little wife. Little wife. His little wife. His wife.