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Hidden Truths: Chapter 17


The blanket starts sliding down my body. I grab the edge to keep it over me and just barely open one eye. It’s still dark outside. There is another tug on the blanket, harder this time, and the cover slips from between my fingers.
“What time is it?” I mumble and bury my face in the pillow.
“Half past five,” Sergei whispers in my ear and places a kiss on my nape. “I need your help with something.”
I feel his body pressing into my side, his hard cock nudging my hip, and smile. “We open at seven. If you want to be served, you’ll need to wait.”
“Oh, what a shame.” His lips move to the side of my neck. “I’ll have to help myself then.”
I tilt my head and crack open my eyes, watching him as he reaches for the drawer in the nightstand, and takes out the steak knife from my stash.
“I knew your obsession with sharp kitchen utensils would come in handy.” He says, as cold metal presses to the small of my back where my T-shirt has ridden up. “I hope you’re not too attached to this shirt, baby.”
“What are you doing?”
“Helping myself,” he says and, sliding the knife under my top, cuts the fabric all the way from my hem to the neck.
I start to turn around, but he presses his palm at the center of my back, keeping me in place. His other hand slides under my body and then glides down my stomach to between my legs.
“Shhh . . . You said you’re not available at the moment,” he says next to my ear and cups my pussy with his palm. “Therefore, you are not allowed to move. Or speak.”
A shudder passes through my body at his words, and then another one when I feel the cold metal on my hip. One quick tug, and the band of my panties snaps. He shifts the knife to my other hip and cuts the band on that side. I reach down to remove the ruined panties, but Sergei’s hand wraps around my wrist.
“I said . . . no moving, baby.” He releases my hand and presses his palm on the base of my spine, keeping my pelvis pressed to the bed. “Not even an inch.”
He lifts his other hand from my pussy, tracing his fingertips over my hipbone, then down my butt cheek, and between my legs. The panties which are still caught between my body and the bed start sliding away as he pulls them back and upward, the lacy material teasing my pussy. A small whimper leaves my lips from the unexpected sensation. Then, he changes the angle before drawing them out completely. I squeeze the pillow and bury my face into it, moaning.
“Not a sound, Angelina,” Sergei whispers and thrusts his finger into me.
The pillow muffles my groan, but when he adds another finger, a small scream escapes me.
“Did I hear something, baby?” He strokes my spine with his palm while sliding his fingers deeper. “I think I did.”
A second later, I feel his teeth on my butt cheek, biting. I moan loudly into the pillow from the pain he inflicts on me. He scissors his fingers inside my aching pussy and I feel the tell tale signs I am about to come. Sergei makes a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers inside of me and my entire body combusts. I come all over his hand. Tremors are still rocking my body when Sergei’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me up until I’m positioned on the bed on all fours.
“Spread your legs, baby,” he says and moves behind me. The arm around my middle tightens. “A bit more. Yes, that’s perfect.”
He removes his fingers from my pussy and slides his cock inside, slowly stretching my walls. I gasp. There is no better feeling in the world than that first slow thrust, when I can feel my body adjusting to him. When he’s fully in, he wraps both of his arms around my waist and bends down to place a kiss in the center of my back. He’s saying something in Russian, but I can’t discern the words. A shiver rocks my body anyway. Slowly, he pulls out, then hammers into me again, and the pressure in my core intensifies. I grab at the pillow, squeezing it. Another thrust, stretching me even more as he buries himself to the hilt.
“Breathe, baby.”
Yeah, I guess I forgot about that. I take a lungful of air as he continues to drive into me. With the punishing pace of his thrusts deep into me, I orgasm again. Blazing white stars explode in front of my eyes.
I expect him to keep going, but instead, he pulls out and wraps his arm around my middle, then eases me onto my back.
“I want you to look at me while I come inside you,” he whispers and covers my body with his, entering me again.
I loop my legs around him and squeeze. “Why?”
His cock slides out then slams into me. “Because, when you look at me, I remember I’m still alive.”
He starts rocking into me. Hard. Raw. Without leaving anything behind. Then faster, until I’m barely able to draw a breath between the thrusts. I come for the third time as he finishes in me.


It’s already morning. I should get up and start getting ready for work, but I can’t make myself move.
“Albert has been searching for his carving fork for a week,” I say as I stroke Angelina’s back. “I saw it in the closet, behind your shirts.”
“Can’t he buy another?” she mumbles into my chest.
“Why? Did you get . . . attached to it for some reason?”
“Maybe.” She moves up my body, nuzzling her nose into the crook of my neck. “It has a really long handle. Amazing reach.”
“So, you plan on keeping it?”
“Definitely. I took the santoku knife as well, since you offered. It’s behind your collection of Stephen King books on the shelf.”
How fitting.
“Why do you keep collecting weapons?” I ask. “Do you think someone here may wish you harm?”
“Of course not. It’s a compulsion.” She shrugs. “It makes me feel safer to know I have a weapon within close reach at any moment. I started doing that when I was seven years old, after I got kidnapped the first time.”
My hand stills at the middle of her back. “The first time?”
“Yeah. I was fourteen the second time. They released me after my dad paid the ransom. After that, he sent me to the US.”
“It must have been hard. Alone. In a new country.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” She places her palm on my chest and sighs. “It was more strange than anything. But a good strange. Not having to watch over my shoulder all the time. People living ordinary lives.”
“Did you have friends?”
“A few. But they were more like acquaintances. I found it really hard to connect with girls whose main preoccupations were what they were going to wear that day, or which boy noticed them.” She snorts. “It seemed so silly. And I was a little jealous of them, I guess. I ended up preferring books to people.”
“That reminds me. Albert asked me to tell you that a package arrived for you yesterday. He put it in the living room.” I lower my head to whisper in her ear. “He said he looked inside and found a bunch of paperbacks with naked men on the covers, and now, he thinks you read porn.”
“It’s mental porn,” she deadpans.
I burst out laughing. “Should I be concerned?”
“I don’t know. Should you?” She tilts her head, slips her hand into my boxer briefs, and wraps her fingers around my cock. “Some of those books do set really high standards.”
“You don’t say?” I grab her around her waist and roll us until I’m lying on top of her. “You should know one thing, baby. I’m an extremely competitive person.”
“Lucky me.” She smiles and removes her panties.


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