Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

34. Zoya

34

ZOYA

M y enthusiasm wilts like a picked flower on a hot summer’s day when we arrive at an industrial building approximately fifty miles from Myasnikov. The wealth of the cars in front of us showcases why Vixens is such a hard club to get an invite to, not to mention how elegantly dressed the people slowly filtering inside are.

I’m treading in water outside my means, but too stubborn to admit that out loud.

“Undo some of your buttons and give me your belt.”

As Vlad follows my lead, I remove my jeans and then tease out my hair. My makeup is already perfect from my day of glam, so all I need to do is get my outfit right.

“That’s good. You look hot.”

I backhand Vlad’s chest when his gaze lingers on my thighs longer than what could be classed as a friendly glance.

That is all we will ever be, and it won’t be a solid friendship like I have with Nikita. More one where I’ll wave hello when he passes by instead of acting like he doesn’t exist as I have for the past two years.

“Do I look okay?” Vlad scoffs. “I don’t know how a sex club has a dress code. It’s not like they stay on long after you enter.”

He screws up his nose when I say, “It’s a sex club, not an invitation to an all-out orgy.”

“A sex club with naked trapeze acts.” His wiggling brows are back. “Close enough.”

Needing space before my knee finds its way back to his crotch, I exit his car. Vlad bumps into the back of me just as I join the line. It moves fast, and within minutes we enter a space far more elaborate than my imagination could have ever conjured.

The aura of wealth is in abundance, and the scenes dotted through the oversized space are more erotic masterpieces than poorly scripted porn.

“Here.” Vlad hands me an all-black mask and a white tablet.

I place on the mask but “accidentally” drop the tablet before kicking it to the other side of the foyer. I don’t need a narcotic to keep my veins flooded with energy. They haven’t stopped strumming for weeks.

“You good?” Vlad checks.

I jerk up my chin before gesturing for him to lead the way. I’m not a forgive-and-forget person. It just seems the norm for the men to take the lead at this club. A woman on our right is walking a man through the crowd on a leash, and another directly in front is whipping a woman on a cross, but most of the scenes display that the ratio of doms to dommes is one to thirty, if not a little more.

“What scene do you want to check out first?”

I wet my lips while scanning the crowd. It’s almost overwhelming. There’s so much skin on display I feel overdressed even while wearing a T-shirt as a dress, but it doesn’t seem tacky.

It’s making me hot.

Mistaking the hue on my cheeks as embarrassment, Vlad leads us past a glass-wall cubicle where three men and one woman are performing.

As more scenes come into view, he says, “You don’t have to participate. You can just watch.”

“And if I want to participate?”

I check whose hand is warming my back when Vlad answers, “I’ll die a very happy man.”

A peculiar sensation prickles the fine hairs on my nape when he directs us into a closed-off room all men entering with us veer for first.

A man wearing a black mask is getting head from a woman with her hands tied behind her back. Her eyes bulge with each deep dive of his cock, and she looks in her element.

Although we’ve just arrived, it appears their set has been going for some time. The blonde’s thighs are drenched from multiple orgasms, and the satin straps of her sequin mask are damp with sweat. Her curvy backside also looks newly paddled.

How do I know she was recently spanked? Her backside is housing the same red handprints mine did for over a week after I left Andrik’s country mansion, and they have a freshly spanked appearance with raised red edges.

Over the next several minutes, Vlad and I stand shoulder to shoulder, watching but not speaking.

It is a raunchy scene, but no matter how much my heart pleads for me to look away, I can’t.

The blonde is on her knees and bound, though she appears to have all the control. Her every desire is the forefront of her partner’s mind. The way he pays attention to each moan she releases while he feeds his cock in and out of her mouth is a sure-fire sign. And let’s not forget that she is only on her knees because her every whim was answered, so the focus can now shift to her partner.

Her drenched thighs assure me of this—as does personal experience from not that long ago.

Knowing her needs are being placed before his own is a massive turn-on. I’ve only had that happen a handful of times. Those experiences were mind-blowing. But I can’t think about him now. I’m here to forget him. To move on.

I’m here to let my body’s wants be heard instead of having it judged for its “supposed” failures.

I am sick of the negativity I’ve been forced to swallow anytime sex is mentioned. It is meant to be a beautiful display of how femininity and masculinity blur all barriers, not a chore with one purpose—reproduction.

Even if it is just for a night, I want to cherish how good sex can make people feel, and that it doesn’t always come with an agenda of terms and conditions.

The scene before me, the selfishness of pleasure, is something I’ve always hoped to achieve. To be wanted so fiercely no barrier is too strong to overcome is an addiction more potent than any drug on the market.

I’ve wanted it forever.

And I had it for half a second.

I shake my head to rid it of inappropriate thoughts before shifting my focus back to the scene playing out before me. My panties cling to the lines of my pussy when the man’s grunts increase. He isn’t solely responding to how good the blonde’s lips feel around his pulsating shaft. He’s moaning in response to her eye contact.

She stares up at him, coaxing him to come with a hooded gaze barely seen beneath a silver mask.

My thighs press together when he answers her numerous silent requests thirty seconds later. He grunts through his release, which the blonde swallows without a single objection firing through her hooded eyes, before he demands her to move to a studded chaise in the corner of the space.

They move so fluidly together I wouldn’t be surprised to discover they’ve played together at Vixens previously. They have a spark no amount of sexual chemistry could mimic. Two stars in the sky, perfectly aligning for one hell of a show.

Within seconds, the blonde is arched over the chaise, and the male participant enters her from behind.

“Do they not use protection?” I ask Vlad, my voice barely a whisper, like I’m afraid the couple making me a sticky mess may hear me and stop performing. When Vlad remains quiet, I ram my elbow into his ribs, my eyes unmoving from the erotic imagery better than any porn I’ve watched. “Vlad.”

“Sorry. Ah. What did you say?” His voice is husky with desire.

I understand its roughness. My throat is dry. My pussy, however, is on the other end of the scale. There’s something carnal about seeing a man’s cock coated in a woman’s arousal without the flimsy barrier of latex Andrik forgot…

No, Zoya. You are not going there again so soon after your last slip-up.

Striving to keep the train on its tracks, I ask again, “Protection? Do participants not need protection?”

I don’t need to look at Vlad to know his eyes are on me.

I can feel the heat of his gaze.

“That’s Anya,” he announces, his tone pitched in a way that announces his trousers are facing the same tented design. “She’s a regular. The men love her because…”

“Because?” I ask when words elude him.

Anya is gorgeous, and from what I witnessed earlier, she has no gag reflex and no issue taking every inch of a nine-inch penis, but that doesn’t explain the reason she is lax on protection. There are more condoms in crystal dishes around this club than candy buckets at a Halloween party.

Again, Vlad rubs his hands together. This time it seems more sensual than sinister. “Because she’s”—he waits a beat before finalizing his reply—“like you.” The scene is no longer appealing when he steps close enough I can feel the effect it’s had on him. He’s hard. “Excluding condom breaks, I’ve never ridden bareback. I’d love for you to be my fir?—”

I shove my hand into his face before he can finalize his reply, and then shunt him back two steps. “You’ll lose the ability to ride anything if you finish that sentence.”

He smiles like I’m not being serious.

He’s dead wrong.

After licking my palm, forcing its immediate removal from his face, he nudges his head to the exit. “Marley’s show is about to start. You ain’t seen nothing until you’ve seen Marley hit the bullseye with her…” He makes a hand gesture I would be proud of if it were directed at Nikita. “I want a prime spot, so we need to go now.”

“I’m fine here,” I reply.

I return my eyes to the scene, needing a distraction before I act hormonal. The fluency of the man’s hip thrusts doesn’t enthrall me as it did only moments ago. It isn’t anything he’s doing causing my sudden backflip. It is wondering if the attention he bestows on Anya is solely because he doesn’t need to use protection.

Seconds ago, their connection seemed to be a mutual fascination—two magnets unable to pull apart no matter how much they should.

Now I need a little more convincing.

“Are you sure, Zoy?” Vlad waits for our eyes to align again before he says, “Marley gets the pick of the bunch. Her show isn’t solely for Vixens’ male patrons.”

I smile, grateful he is, for once, not solely focused on his desires. But it doesn’t alter the facts.

“I’m sure. I’ll find you once this set is over.”

“All right.” He seems hesitant to leave, but the mass exit of the people surrounding us gets his feet moving. “I’ll save you a spot.”

In minutes, the number of people doubling the humidity of the room halves.

It drops to a scarce few when Anya’s partner doesn’t immediately exit the chamber-like viewing room with them.

They don’t stay to watch how they snuggle on the chaise for several minutes with his cock still pulsating inside her, or how attentive he is with aftercare. They stupidly believe the fireworks are over the instant they’re freed from their chambers. They don’t realize the chaos their detonation caused to the sky is what the show is truly about.

I’m so mesmerized watching the way the dark-haired man takes care of Anya that I instinctively move closer to the glass separating them from their audience.

The man’s doting expression never changes.

Not once.

If he knows Anya is infertile, it doesn’t bother him.

He isn’t looking at her with anything but lust and love.

It is a glance full of admiration, and it mirrors the one that reflects back at me for half a second before the glass wall suddenly darkens and the room plunges into blackness.

Dancing shadows covered half my stalker’s face before the lights were switched off, but I’ll never forget those eyes or the cut lines of his jaw. Not to mention the smirk that tugged at his full lips when my first thought wasn’t to run for the closest exit when our eyes locked for a nanosecond.

I’d bolt if I weren’t frozen in shock.

Well, that’s what my heart plans to tell my head when guilt eventually surfaces.

It is so dark that I don’t realize Andrik is standing behind me until his warm breaths float over my ear. “Aren’t I meant to give you a gift today, милая ?” The glass gives relief to my overheated skin when he leans into me so deeply I either flatten my breasts against the cool surface or grind against him like a nymph. “It is your birthday, yet here you are, surprising me.”

“I didn’t know you would be here.” My voice is shockingly strong considering how jittery my insides become when he splays his hand against my stomach and draws me back.

“Do I need to take you over my knee, милая ?” I curse my lack of attention to detail to hell when excitement is my first response to his threat.

If I had paid more attention to both the ticket and our location, I would have known his next confession before he announced it. “I own this club… and everyone in it.” My eye roll stops halfway when he whispers, “Including the fool you arrived with.”

My throat grows scratchy when I recall the conversation we had when his jealousy got the better of him.

Dead men don’t count.

Vlad doesn’t deserve my loyalty, but I give it to him anyway. “Vlad didn’t touch me.”

“Tonight,” Andrik agrees as he places something bulky and cool around my neck. “But he has previously.” My heart beats in my ears when a second after he clasps what I believe to be a necklace together, he returns his hand to my stomach and growls, “That’s enough for me to kill him.”

My brain is mush from having him so near, knowing he isn’t a man who tosses out worthless threats, and my unexpected gift, so I’m not surprised when my smarts dip to his level. “Then I suggest you double your security. I know where you live, so if you touch Vlad, I’ll tell your wife exactly how many indiscretions you’ve had in your very short marriage.”

He smiles.

He. Fucking. Smiles.

It pisses me off to no end, but no matter how hard my brain screams for my feet to move, they refuse to budge. His quick exploration of my body means his fingers are a mere inch from my clit. They sear my morals as potently as greed does when I notice the size of the massive rock reflecting in the glass wall. It is massive.

Furthermore, I read his contract. I know the terms.

His wife isn’t getting this from him.

I shouldn’t be either.

Even if it is an arrangement, he has to respect the vows he took—doesn’t he?

My brain screams yes. My heart is on the other side of the fence. It is trying to rationalize that his marriage is nothing more than a roundabout way of surrogacy.

It’s fucked to think this way, but a straight and narrow path is boring, and I’ve already had my share of lackluster encounters. Isn’t it time for me to live for me?

Goose bumps rise over every inch of me when Andrik’s hand slides under my shirt. As his fingertip glides over the soaked seam of my panties, his hot breaths continue caressing my ear. “I’d kill him if I believed any of this wetness was for him.”

When he nudges his head to the glass pane separating us from Anya and her partner, I murmur, “It is for hi?—”

His hand stills, immediately ending my campaign to dispute his truthful accusation.

I’m not wet because the man doting on Anya is well-endowed and lasted longer than two seconds. My eyes rarely veered lower than his midsection. I was mesmerized by his eye contact and how he made it seem as if Anya was the only person on the planet he was out to impress.

It is similar to how Andrik is making me feel now.

He knows every button to push and for exactly how long. Within seconds, the guilt that forever charges our exchanges lightens enough to blur the line I’m endeavoring to place between us.

As his fingers roll over my clit, his lips nibble on my shoulder. I moan as my hands splay against the glass wall, lost in the sensation of a gifted pair of hands.

“More,” I plead desperately, my pussy needing something to cling to as it rides the wave of ecstasy threatening to crest at any moment.

My teeth grit when Andrik breathes heavily against my neck. “More who ?”

I shiver when his fingers slip between the folds of my pussy and arch upward. He’s not quite fingering me, more ensuring I can’t deny his need to be reminded of who is helming our exchange.

“More, Andrik. Please. ”

His lips rise against my nape before he spears his fingers inside me, shoving them in deep. They’re so long and girthy that if I didn’t feel his fat cock grinding against my ass, I would assume we skipped foreplay.

Andrik thrusts his fingers in and out of me, stroking my G-spot with every precise pump. In seconds, sweat beads my nape and pleasure swells my insides. I can’t deny how wet I am. I can feel it slicking Andrik’s palm and hear it over my frantic moans. I’m drenched, and at this very instant, unashamed.

“Oh god,” I pant when the world commences blurring.

“No,” Andrik snaps out against my neck. “Not him. There is only one name you’re allowed to scream when you’re being wholly consumed. It isn’t his.”

He finger fucks me faster, harder. He drives me to a blubbering, shuddering mess with rough pounds and curling fingertips.

“Whose name are you allowed to speak, милая ? Who is the only man allowed to touch you like this?”

“You,” I choke out, shuddering through the tingles racing through my core.

“Yes. M e.” My hands slip against the glass when he demands the name of the man about to make me come all over his hand. “Scream it loud enough for them all to hear.”

His “them” mention reminds me of where we are. It doesn’t clam me up, however. It makes me feel more wanted. More desired. And it has the crest in my stomach forming so quickly I’m blindsided by a ferocious orgasm before I can force Andrik onto the wild ride with me.

I explode so fiercely stars detonate and the world tilts on its axis. Everything blurs as a fiery warmth spreads from my womb to my limbs.

I cry out loud enough for Anya’s partner’s attention to divert from her for the quickest second. He stares straight at me as if the glass is no longer frosted. It is a fading glance. As quickly as Andrik’s zipper lowering steals my devotion, Anya’s tired yawn captures his.

When his admiring glare once again matches the one reflecting back at me, I can’t help but seek answers as to why Anya and I are the chosen ones.

“Does he know?”

“Know what?” Andrik’s breathing pattern matches mine when he spreads my feet wide with a gentle kick before his fingers recommence their exploration of the heat between my legs.

“Does he know she’s infertile?” It is hard to talk. Nothing but moans want to leave my mouth when his fat cock pierces between my wet folds.

Andrik’s lips lift against the exposed skin on my shoulder for the briefest second before he answers tersely, “Yes.”

“Then why does he look at her how he does?” The words shoot from my mouth before I can stop them. That’s how stunned I am that he enters me without the slightest bit of protest from my body. Our position probably helps. I can’t take all of him from this angle, but the inches I can are delicious.

After swiveling my hips, welcoming him in further with only the slightest snippet of pain, I say, “He looks at her like she can give him everything he’s ever wanted.”

“Because she can,” he answers on a moan as he adjusts the tilt of my ass and then jerks his hips upward.

He rubs at my clit, clouding my head with lust so it won’t acknowledge the pain of the additional inches my new position allows him to stuff in, but I manage to speak through the fog. “That’s not true. If it were, you wouldn’t be fucking me in a dark room like I’m a dirty little secret.”

When Andrik stills, his cock doesn’t display the disappointment of the rest of his body. It throbs as evidently as his jaw. “Don’t.”

His reply is clipped, and it sets my pulse racing. I don’t listen to the silent warning that I’m no longer treading in waters beyond my means, though. I’ve dived headfirst into the Pacific. “You wouldn’t be demanding discreetness.”

My last word comes out with a groan when Andrik’s hand shoots up from my hip to my throat. He grips my neck tightly, lighting not needed to see the flicker his eyes get when he’s being challenged.

“Don’t make me ask you again, Zoya. Stop. Now. ”

I squash my cheek to the glass and sweep open my thighs like I’m not doing everything I can to derail this train. “You wouldn’t be hoping the contract you had Mikhail plant would have me believing adultery is okay since feelings aren’t involved.”

“Stop. This. Now! Or your ass will be so red you won’t sit for a week.”

I don’t listen.

I never do.

“How many women have you coerced into your bed with the same lies, Andrik?”

He pulls out of me with a roar, his anger as apparent as the furious stomp of my libido that I’ve pushed him so hard that his cock is most likely as deflated as my ego. “None!”

“How many payouts have you issued for their silence?”

“None.” His reply is a sneer, not a word, as snapped and out of control as the rough yank on my arm to spin me around to face him. “Not. A. Single. Fucking. One. But since you seem to know everything about me, why don’t you tell me how many indiscretions I’ve had? You said you will tell my wife ”—he snarls his last word—“exactly how many. So tell me… how many have I had? One… two… three…” His wild and dilated eyes bounce between mine. “Four? Do you think I’ve had four, милая ? Or did I start my tally too low? Tell me how many women I’ve slept with since you.”

“I don’t know how many,” I spit out, suddenly disgusted.

I hate the thought of him with his wife, so I don’t want to add more people to the crazy notions that haven’t quit rolling through my head over the past few weeks.

“I don’t know how many women you’ve slept with since me. But does it matter? Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“I haven’t cheated!” he roars, freezing both my heart and my astuteness. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond to the sheer honesty in his tone or to portray my absolute shock. “You’ve put my head in such a fucking spin that goals I’ve been working toward since I was five were forgotten in an instant. I backflipped on every pledge I’ve made in the past thirty years in under twelve fucking hours. Nothing mattered.” I hear his jaw tightening more than I see it. “Nothing matters but you .”

With my eyes adjusting to the dark, I have no trouble seeing the truth in his narrowed gaze when his eyes connect with mine, but I’m as stubborn as a mule, and perhaps a smidge heartbroken.

“You were fingering me while your wife was being inseminated with your sperm.”

“No,” he immediately denies, shaking his head.

“I saw your contract, Andrik. It stated the date in thick black ink for all to see.” I grit my teeth when he continues to shake his head. “Then why did you send me away? Why did you stop? Why did you sneak into my room in the middle of the night under the cloak of darkness?” With my heartache overtaking the zing of intimacy thickening my veins, I blurt out my next question without evaluating the possible consequences it could cause. “Why did you pick her instead of me?”

For the first time, vulnerability flares through his eyes. “I didn’t pick her.”

“You married her, Andrik! She’s your wife.”

“No,” he denies, talking through a clenched jaw. “She’s a prop. A ploy. A measure to get answers. I don’t want her.” When he steps closer, my heart thuds in my ears. “I want you.”

“Don’t,” I beg when he cups my jaw with the same hand he used to bring me to climax.

He doesn’t listen, and as much as I shouldn’t admit this, I’m glad.

“And you want me too.” His thumb slips over my lips, diverting the pulse deafening me to between my legs. It isn’t solely his touch prompting the positive responses of my body. It is also what he says next. “I’ll call the wedding off. I will find another way to get answers.”

The mask I’m growing to hate as much as I loathe the woman I’ve become slips over his face quicker than I can snap my fingers when we’re interrupted. “Andrik? Are you in here?”

The blonde who was conducting interviews in the east wing pushes open the door, streaming unnatural light into the room and highlighting the manic tic in Andrik’s jaw. “Not now.”

She takes his snarky tone in stride. “I know you requested not to be disturbed, but it is extremely urgent.”

The utter desperation in her voice announces the end of our exchange mere seconds before Andrik vocalizes the same. “Mikhail is waiting for you outside.” After floating his eyes over my face for the quickest second, he checks that his fly is right before he stalks to the door being held open by the blonde. “Straight home, милая .”

“Andrik—”

“Straight. Home!”

He exits first, confident enough in his assertiveness that I’ll never disobey a direct order.

It is a pity he’s underestimated how stupid I become when pushed down the totem pole of importance.