‘You get this often, believe it,’ he vows. ‘Your ass is mine now.’
I am making incoherent little sounds, not quite words but a bit more than yelps when he digs his fingers into my hips and hisses his way through a long, apparently fierce, orgasm.
Slapping himself once, twice, three times right up inside me while his eyes roll back, he says something in Russian then releases my hips and lets me loll against him, still impaled, while he kisses each of my calves. then rests his damp forehead against one of my legs, gathering breath.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says after a while.
‘You’re sorry?’ I raise my head and peer at him. He looks so sad. ‘Hey, Dimitri! What for?’
‘In the end, it takes over me. I forget to make sure you are OK. I think maybe I hurt you?’
‘No.’ I prop myself on my elbows and lock my ankles behind his neck, rubbing them into his flesh caressingly. ‘Well, yeah. A bit. But no more than I could handle. It stopped hurting after a while anyway. I got used to it, I guess. My body adjusted.’
‘You really are OK? You don’t think I am terrible boyfriend?’
I laugh, slightly tearfully. ‘God, no. I think you are wonderful boyfriend. The best.’
A watery smile turns up the corners of his lips. ‘You are the best,’ he says gallantly. He pauses to remove his softened cock, with infinite care and tenderness, from my thoroughly fucked bum. His absence feels as wrong as his presence did. My anus protests, reaching after him. I try to sit up but I’m too weak.
He removes the condom, ties it in a knot and aims it, deadly accurate, at the wastepaper basket. Then he moves my legs down so they encircle his waist and picks me up, holding me close and tight in his arms until we both subside onto the floor in a tangle of limbs.
It’s not comfortable down there, but we don’t care. Besides, there’s nowhere else we can do this in the austere schoolroom. The dusty floor will have to do.
‘You know, although that was incredibly hot and dirty and nasty and all that, there was something incredibly romantic about it too,’ I tell him.
‘You think so?’
‘Yeah. Because you were so concerned about getting it right – for my sake. It was really … gah. I hate all this soppy talk. But it was really touching, you know? I felt cared for.’ Loved. But I’m not going to presume.
‘Well, you are, you know?’ he says, hugging the breath from my lungs. ‘You are my favourite thing in England.’
‘Really? You’re my favourite Russian thing. Even better than vodka.’
‘Wow, that is amazing compliment, I thank you.’ He kisses my brow, chuckling under his breath. ‘I take you to Moscow one day.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘How is your ass?’
The change of subject foxes me for a moment, until I realise he is enquiring about my recently sodomised orifice.
‘A bit tender,’ I tell him. ‘But I like that. I like to feel that bad things have been done to me. A reminder.’
‘I will remember it also,’ he says. ‘I will think of it a lot, until I see you again.’
r /> ‘Next Saturday?’
‘I guess. Shit. I don’t want to go to work. But I must make the money. We have to go.’
‘What’s next?’
‘I put you on that cross and I whip you, baby.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Chapter Eight
‘There’s that guy again.’