Free Bad, Bad Things by Lolita Lopez Page B

sighs.
    Sergei sits up and nibbles my breasts. His hand tangles in my hair. Chest to chest, we undulate atop the bed. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold tight to his chiseled body. His hard breaths tickle my neck as he licks and suckles his way back up to my mouth.
    We’re sharing a particularly deep kiss when Sergei’s fingers tighten in my hair. I pick up on his cue and really grind my pussy against him. He grunts against my mouth and bucks against me, shoving his cock as far as it will go. While he shudders and groans, I keep snapping my hips back and forth, milking his orgasm as long as possible.
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    Forehead to forehead, we cling together. He nips my lower lip and rubs my back with long, soothing strokes. I touch his face, his stubbled cheeks rasping my palms and fingertips. For the first time since I’ve known him, Sergei looks completely and utterly relaxed. There’s none of the usual wariness or distrust etched on his face. Knowing I’ve given him this sense of peace makes me feel so strong and powerful. I doubt I’ve ever had that effect on anyone.
    Reluctantly we separate so Sergei can deal with the now precariously dangling, loaded condom. I take a moment in the bathroom before rejoining him in bed. I’m not quite sure what to expect and I’m surprised when he offers me the space beside him and a glass of water. I take it gratefully and slake my thirst. Sex is hard work, after all.
    When we’re sufficiently hydrated, Sergei reclines against the pillows and gathers me close. Snuggling is a welcome development. He stares ahead at nothing in particular, his mind somewhere else. I decide to live in the moment and not think about the nightmare that is my current life. My fingers randomly trace the tattoos adorning his torso. “These are mafia tattoos.”
    Immediately I wish I hadn’t said that. The hot sex seems to have broken my mouth filter. I start to apologize but Sergei just nods. “Yes.”
    I know I shouldn’t but I can’t stop myself. “Are you still…you know…involved?”
    Sergei shakes his head. “That was old life. This,” he gestures around, “is new life.
    No crime. No mafia.”
    He grows quiet and I wonder if I’ve crossed a line I never should have approached.
    Eyes still focused ahead, Sergei says, “I make mistakes in past.”
    “Oh I know all about mistakes. Believe me,” I mutter unhappily.
    “Not like these,” he says softly, sadly. “I do bad, bad things.”
    “Murder?” I can’t believe I’ve just asked that. I mean, seriously, shut the fuck up, self!
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    “No. Never.” Sergei glances down at me. “I never hurt woman either.” He inhales a long breath. “Drugs. Money laundering. Black market. Those kinds of things.”
    “But that’s all in the past. You’ve obviously moved on from that life.”
    “ Da .” One side of his mouth curves up with annoyance. “But the people from that time? No.”
    I think of how Fox and Jolie and Marco had all moved past our little high-school schemes. What did I do? I dragged them right back into the thick of it, mired them right in the shit. I’m no better than the people still bothering Sergei.
    “I did some really bad things in high school. Gossip, lies, blackmail.”
    “Why?” He genuinely wants to know what spurred me to seek such nefarious ends.
    “It’s complicated, Sergei. A lot of it had to do with my mom getting hurt.”
    Sadness flashes on his face. “Too bad injury ruined career. I like her movies.”
    “A lot of people liked her movies.” My eyes prickle with heat and I glance toward the window. Blinking quickly, I try to clear the welling tears. “You know, he never went to jail for it. He just took off to Asia. Bangkok at first, I think. I don’t know. He was killed last year in a mugging in Hong Kong. So that’s that.”
    “Ofelia.” He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “What happened that night in Rome?”
    I play with the embroidered edge of the