16. Ivan

16

IVAN

E ven before Charlotte became an obsession for me, I’ve never gone to Masquerade twice in one weekend. But the guys had such a good time that they want to go again Sunday night, and rather than deal with their questions as to why I don’t want to leverage my membership and get to fuck one of the myriads of hot women there who could fulfill my every kinky fantasy, I go along.

This time, I don’t get a room to myself, even after I’ve watched the festivities on the open floor. I sip my vodka and watch, getting gradually more and more turned on by what amounts to live, public pornography, the sounds and smells of sex drenching my senses as the night wears on. I sit there, my cock aching, and my thoughts keep drifting back to Charlotte.

I don’t want to get myself off here tonight while I think about her. I want to do it while she tells me all the things she wants me to do to her, while she doesn’t even know that it’s me.

As I finish my third drink, I motion to the bartender so that I can pay my tab, too eager to stay at the club any longer. I want her, not the noise and fog of sex all around me. And I can’t wait even a moment longer to have at least some part of her.

In the neon glow of the screens in my basement, I strip out of my suit, tossing it over a stack of boxes as I pull on a pair of sweatpants, shoving my still half-hard cock down. I’m fully erect just from the anticipation of chatting with her by the time I’ve logged on, and when I see her username in bold, telling me that she’s logged on, I don’t have the patience to play coy.

Venom69xxx: The pretty dove came out to play tonight. You know what a snake does to a pretty little bird?

Her response comes almost immediately, faster than I thought it would. Almost as if she were waiting for me.

CuriousDove24: Why don’t you tell me?

In an instant, I’m so hard that I can’t stand it any longer. I push my sweatpants down around my hips, freeing my cock and giving myself a couple of quick, hard strokes before I respond to her. I’m already slick with pre-cum, and I can feel the veins throbbing against my palm. If I don’t control myself, this will be over faster than I want it to be.

Venom69xxx: He eats her.

Just like that, the memory of her in Masquerade comes flooding back, the sweet taste of her on my tongue, the way she moaned and mewled as I licked her, the way she came all over my face as if she’d never been properly eaten out before. I’d be willing to bet that she never had.

I want to taste her again. I want to fuck her. I want her to scream my name. My name.

I’m getting off both on the fact that she has no idea that all of the men filling her fantasies right now are the same one, and I desperately want her to know that it’s me, all at once. It’s a dichotomy that’s fueling my lust to an almost unbearable degree.

My hand wraps around my cock again as I wait for her to respond, stroking in long, slow passes of my palm over my throbbing length. I sink my teeth into my lip as I groan, letting my head fall back against the chair as my hips lift up, fucking my fist for a moment until I can’t take it any longer, and I have to pull my hand away before I come. My balls tighten, that heat licking at the base of my spine, but I refocus on the screen, tearing myself away from that pleasure that’s so close to overcoming me.

CautiousDove24: Maybe she wants to be eaten.

Fuck. I stroke myself again, that one pass of my hand from the base of my cock over the too-sensitive tip, almost sends me over the edge. I want her so badly it hurts.

Venom69xxx: Hard to eat you with a mask on, dove. But there are so many other ways I could make you come.

CuriousDove24: Tell me.

Venom69xxx: Only if you tell me what you’re doing right now.

There’s a pause, and I run my hand up and down my length again, my vision blurring slightly as that knot of pleasure tightens at the base of my spine. I need to come, but putting it off is only enhancing the pleasure, building that delicious ache that’s an exquisite torment.

I don’t edge like this often, but I’m well aware of how good it can feel. And I can’t wait to imagine that I’m coming all over her face by the end of this.

CuriousDove24: I—I’m touching myself. Thinking about you.

That almost does me in. I pretty much knew that was what was going on, of course, but seeing her tell me like that makes me throb without even touching myself, so much pre-cum spilling down my length that, for a moment, I almost think I’ve lost control of my orgasm. I reach down, roughly squeezing the base of my cock with my left hand as I type with my right, staving off the explosion for as long as I can.

Venom69xxx: Tell me how, exactly.

I’m not sure what prompts me to do it, but I’m so aroused that I’m definitely not thinking straight.

On the far end of my desk, near the last of my monitors, there’s an off-white mask in the shape of a skull. I bought it while I was out the other day, imagining a scenario exactly like this, and wondering if I’d go through with it. I’m still not entirely sure that I won’t scare Charlotte off if she’s actually confronted with her fantasies.

But right now, all the blood in my body is in my cock, and it’s the only thing I’m thinking with.

Slipping the mask on, I reach for my phone, leaning back and taking a selfie. In the neon glow and scattered shadows, my abs look impeccably chiseled, my blond hair swept back so that she can’t see much of it. The shadows blur my tattoos to the point where they’re unrecognizable—it’s the only reason I’ll allow her to see me shirtless. Otherwise, I’d be too worried that I’d get far enough with her as Ivan for her to see me in the light without a shirt, and start piecing this all together.

Ivan is taking this slow with Charlotte. But I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to resist her, especially once she starts pushing that side of things.

Quickly, I upload the photo to my computer, making sure it’s scrubbed of all metadata before I send it. It pops up in the chat under my last message, a bad, blurry selfie of an unidentifiable man in a mask.

Venom69xxx: I’m watching you just like this dove. My hand is wrapped around my cock right now. Tell me what you’re doing. Tell me what you’d want, if I were there.

CuriousDove24: I—I’m just wearing a T-shirt and panties. It’s not very sexy—but I just slipped my fingers under them. I’m so wet, I couldn’t wait any longer. I thought about using a toy, but I wanted skin on skin. I wanted to imagine it was your fingers on me. You ordering me to spread my legs for you while you held me down by my throat. I can’t see your face, just hear your voice, and you tell me you’re going to punish me if I try to run. That if I lay there and let you have me, you’ll make me come before you fuck me.

God. I grit my teeth, not daring to touch my cock after that. I can feel myself throbbing with every word, my cock straining upwards, desperate for something to sink into, something hot and wet wrapped around it.

No. Not something . Charlotte. Charlotte’s mouth, her pussy, her ass?—

CuriousDove24: Oh god, you’re so fucking hot. I don’t think I’ve ever actually said that to a guy before. Not like that. But I also haven’t…

Venom69xxx: Haven’t what?

CuriousDove24: This. Masturbating for someone. Telling them what I want. Are you doing it too? I wish I could see your cock. I’m so wet…

Venom69xxx: Do you have a dildo in those toys of yours that you mentioned, dove?

I allow myself one long, slow stroke as I wait for her answer, my head spinning with thoughts of what I want to do to her. I imagine taking her from her apartment to my penthouse in the city, keeping her locked up there for days, as I teach her every depraved thing that I want to do to her. As I make her body mine, and mine alone. As I make her come so hard that she forgets anyone else ever did, even herself.

I want to ruin her for other men, for toys, for her own fingers. I want her to crave my touch until she can’t come, unless it’s with my fingers, tongue, or cock. I want to own her.

“Fuck!” I growl, squeezing my straining cock until it almost hurts, staving off my climax once again. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it a third time.

CuriousDove24: Yes.

Venom69xxx: Good. Go get it. If you’re as wet as you say, you won’t need lube, so don’t you dare use a drop. I want just your wet pussy all over my cock. Tell me before you slide it in, dove.

My heart is beating so hard that I’d almost be concerned, if I had enough presence of mind to think about something like that right now. I watch the screen with my breath caught in my throat, my fingers still pressing around the base of my cock as I wait for her.

CuriousDove24: I’m about to put it in. Please tell me I can. I need to come so badly. I need this. Please.

Venom69xxx: Good girl. You’re so pretty when you beg like that. Tied down on your stomach with your hands and feet all wrapped up in that soft rope. You sucked my cock so well earlier, dove. Now you get to be fucked with it. And if you come all over my cock just like I want you to, you can have my cum, too, pretty dove.

CuriousDove24: Oh god—fuck, it almost feels too big. I needed this so badly. I need you to fuck me.

Venom69xxx: I’m going to slide it in nice and slow, dove. You’ll take every inch of my thick cock. Fuck, dove—I’m stroking myself right now, thinking about this. Let me know right before you come. We’ll come together.

I give up all pretense of waiting. My only goal right now is to hold off my own climax long enough that I don’t come before she tells me that she’s about to. I start to stroke my slick, aching length, gripping the base tightly at the end of each stroke, moaning every time my fingers and palm slide over the swollen tip. I rub pre-cum around the head, hissing through my breath as I imagine that I’m just barely dipping into her tight pussy, making her beg for it before I thrust into her again, hard. I want to do exactly what I just told her—tie her down on her stomach with her head at the end of the bed, feed her my cock until I’m dripping with her saliva and she’s begging to be fucked, and then make her come hard while I pound into her.

I’m so close. So fucking close. I’m panting, my muscles wound tight, desperately trying not to come, until I see the message that I’m dying for pop up on the screen.

CuriousDove24: I’m about to come, Venom. Your cock feels so good, I can’t hold off. Please let me come. Please, please…

Venom69xxx: Come for me, pretty dove. I’m going to come so fucking hard for you.

I imagine that it’s her pussy clenching around my cock, instead of my fist, as I pump it hard, staring at the screen. Miles from here, Charlotte is fucking herself while she pretends she’s coming around her mystery man’s cock. The thought sends me over the edge, imagining her pretty mouth open on a moan, her body tightening around that silicone length. I’ve never been so fucking jealous of a toy in my life as my legs splay open and my hips thrust up, the orgasm shattering me as my cock explodes.

Nothing that I’ve done with my own hand has ever felt this good before. My eyes are shut so tightly that I see colors as my cock throbs and cum sprays over my hand, over my thighs, probably ending up in places that I’ll have to clean up later as I come so fucking hard that I feel dizzy, like I’m going to pass out. I moan her name as I come, the sound spilling from my lips as all of that built-up pleasure explodes from me, and I shudder as more of that sticky heat spills over my hand. I can’t remember ever coming this much before, or this long.

“Charlotte— fuck , Charlotte—” I fuck my fist hard, my oversensitive cock still spurting, dragging out my climax until my balls feel sore and drained. I’ve never come this hard from sex before. I feel foggy afterward, disoriented, and it makes me wonder what it would feel like to fuck her.

It occurs to me, for the first time, that it might not just be me who ruins her for anyone else.

She’s ruining me .

I swallow hard, blinking at the screen as I reach for tissues to clean up, but Charlotte has already logged off. Whether it took me too long to come to my senses, or if she came to hers and fled out of embarrassment, I don’t know.

But what I do know is that I can’t wait to see her again.

—-

Monday morning, I find myself watching her walk into her building for work again, as I lean against the wall opposite the street. When she and Jaz disappear from view, I head down the street to a cafe, getting a coffee and puttering around on my laptop until I can head to Cafe L’Rose and pretend to run into her again for lunch. I don’t get much in the way of work done—all I can think about is her, and last night, and our date this weekend. About the fact that I don’t know how long I can hold off actually getting her into bed. The desire to have her in reality is fast outstripping the satisfaction that her internet fantasies are giving me, and I need more.

That doesn’t change the fact that more is a distraction.

Right now, I should be thinking about the gala on Friday, and how I’m going to stop my father from selling Sabrina Petrov into sex slavery. I should be thinking about how I’m going to foil his plan and get information to Agent Bradley without getting caught. I should be forming an intricate, foolproof plan that won’t result in Sabrina getting hurt or me ending up on the wrong end of Lev’s hunting knife.

Instead, I’m thinking about how Charlotte tasted on my tongue, and if the rest of her will feel as soft as her pussy did against my lips.

At eleven, I make my way over to Cafe L’Rose. Charlotte isn’t there yet, as expected, and I make myself comfortable, scrolling through articles on my phone as the server brings me a beer and an appetizer of spinach dip with pita chips. I don’t eat them, leaving them there instead to make it look like I’ve just arrived to get lunch.

Just shortly after noon, as usual, Charlotte walks in. This time, she’s alone, and my pulse spikes. I’d been prepared to interrupt her and Jaz, again, but this is even better. This gives me an excuse to walk over and talk to her.

Once she’s seated with a glass of lemon water, I get up and walk over to her table. She looks up at my footsteps, and I catch the barest hint of alarm in her expression in the instant before excitement takes over.

I know exactly what that is. It’s her subconscious telling her that I’m dangerous, that in this moment, she’s prey. That she should run, instead of what she does, which is smile invitingly as she tries to smother some of her obvious excitement.

“You’re here again.” She bites her lip. “Jaz is working through lunch today. Do you want to join me?”

“I can’t say no to that.” I slide into the chair opposite her easily, as if there’s nothing engineered or strange about this at all. Just a happy coincidence.

“This is twice now you’ve been here on my lunch break. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalking me.” She says it with a teasing grin, light-hearted enough that I know she’s joking. It calms the momentary spike of alarm that I felt, thinking that she might be on to me.

But she’s not. She’s not even trying to find something wrong here. She trusts me, more than she should, and that sends a spark of guilt through me. It’s not that I don’t know that what I’m doing is wrong.

I just want her too much to care.

“It’s not stalking if you tend to eat at the same place,” I tell her with that same light, teasing inflection in my voice. “Besides, who says it’s you that I’m here for? This place has the best steak sandwich I’ve ever eaten.”

“You should try their chicken salad.” She relaxes back in her seat, her green eyes sparkling. She’s incredibly beautiful, even like this, dressed in a button-down shirt and dark jeans with her hair up in a ponytail. My thoughts immediately shift to images of that ponytail wrapped around my hand, of her bent over a table like this one while I?—

I blink them away, clearing my throat. I need to get laid. Because the truth is, I like Charlotte for more than just how much she turns me on. It’s just that right now, it’s hard to think past the need to satisfy that with her.

“I’ll order that today, then.” I grin. “I’ll try something new.”

I emphasize the last part a little, reminding her of our conversation at dinner the other night. And I think she picks up on it, from the way her mouth twitches.

“Okay, then,” she says. “I’ll order the steak sandwich.”

“About that apple-picking date,” I start to say a few minutes later, once our orders are in, and I see her face instantly fall.

“You changed your mind, didn’t you?” She tries to cover her disappointment with a tiny laugh. “I had a feeling you’d think about it and decide that wasn’t your thing.”

I feel a jolt of anger at that. Not towards her—but because clearly, she’s had that done to her before. Promises broken, because some guy decided that his fun was more important than hers, always. Disappointment over her desires never being prioritized. It’s clear she’s been let down more than once.

That stops now.

“Not at all,” I assure her, and I see her eyes brighten instantly. “I just wanted to tell you that I do have plans Friday night. Something I can’t really get out of. So I was going to ask if you were free on Saturday for our date. Apple-picking, pie-baking, a movie at a sticky theater, the works.”

Charlotte laughs, picking up a napkin and throwing it at me. “Just because it’s a normal movie theater doesn’t mean you have to make it sound so gross. Have you ever even been to a movie theater before?”

“Of course I have.” I grin at her. “I’m rich, but I’m not some kind of shut-in. Or a celebrity that can’t be seen out in public.”

It’s actually been a long time since I’ve been to the movies. What I can’t tell Charlotte is that I haven’t been since I was a kid, when I’d use my allowance to sneak out and go hide at the theater for an entire day, watching movie after movie so I could avoid my stepmother’s cold disapproval and my brothers’ abuse. I can’t tell her that the smell of old upholstery and buttered popcorn feels a little like a haven to me.

But what startles me is that I’d like to. For the first time in my life, I find myself wanting to open up to her completely. To show her all the dark corners of myself that I’ve kept hidden all these years. I want to do more than unravel her entirely, so that I know her better than anyone else ever has—I want her to unravel me, too. And that terrifies me, enough that I almost stand up and call it all off.

Obsessing over Charlotte is dangerous enough. Falling for her like that would be catastrophic to us both.

The server brings our sandwiches, and Charlotte smiles, reaching for half of hers. My stomach growls a little—steak, aioli, blue cheese, and avocado with a generous helping of au jus is exactly what I wanted today. But the spontaneous fun of switching our orders is better than that.

It’s helping to break Charlotte out of her shell.

“Oh god, that’s really good,” she admits as she takes a bite. “You’re right. It is the best steak sandwich I’ve ever had.”

“Told you.” I grin, taking a bite of my own sandwich. To my surprise, it’s equally good, rich and creamy, a perfect mix of savory and sweet. “That’s really good, too.”

Charlotte nods, reaching for her napkin. There’s a drop of juice on her lip, and I swallow hard, forcing back the urge to lean across the table and thumb it away. “As for the Saturday date,” she adds, “that’s perfect. I have Friday night plans that I can’t get out of, too, so that works out great, honestly.”

Instantly, jealousy floods me. I haven’t seen anything from her phone to suggest that she’s on dating apps or that she’s been texting any other men—other than her asshole ex, who speaks to her in ways that make me seriously consider murder—but that’s not the only way to meet someone. She could have met someone in person, maybe at work, and made plans that way. My thoughts instantly spiral, heading down a path of a dozen different ways that I can figure out how to stop this in its tracks. No one is taking her out on a date except for me.

“Oh?” I try to say it as casually as possible. She was clear that she didn’t want exclusivity yet, and on the surface, at least, I agreed to it. So I can’t let her see that I’m jealous. If I do, she’ll break things off immediately, and I’ll lose her. “A hot date?” I smirk at her, forcing my tone into something resembling playfulness.

“If you count my friend Sarah as a hot date—which most men would, I think, then yes,” she says with a laugh. “She’s on the board of this charity—” Charlotte bites into her sandwich, letting me squirm for a moment before she finishes her sentence. I’m half-wondering if she has a date with this friend Sarah, and trying to decide how that makes me feel, before she puts me out of my misery.

“They’re throwing this gala, Friday night. She just went through a breakup a few months ago, and she asked me if I’d be her date for it. It’s not exactly my idea of a wonderful Friday night out, but I told her yes, because I could tell it meant a lot to her.” Charlotte shrugs, taking another bite of her sandwich. “And it could be fun, right? In between all the stuffy speeches from politicians or whatever, I’ll get to eat an expensive dinner, and Sarah and I will dance and play it up just to get all the millionaires hot and bothered, and then I’ll go home and crash.”

She grins, clearly enjoying the idea of the plans she and her friend have made, but inwardly, I’m panicking. I’m well aware of what gala she’s going to—because it’s the same one I’m supposed to accompany Sabrina Petrov to.

The same one where my father’s men are planning to abduct Sabrina, to sell her off later to the highest bidder.

There are any number of reasons why I don’t want Charlotte at that gala—I don’t want her within a hundred miles of men who are part of my father’s human trafficking ring. I also don’t want her anywhere near anything to do with my family. I don’t want them to know about her, and I don’t want her to get even the slightest whiff of my association with the Bratva.

All of those things should be the primary concerns that I’m thinking about right now, but instead, the one that comes to the forefront of my mind is that if Charlotte is at the gala, she’ll see me with another woman.

After what she’s just been through, the last thing I want is for her to think that I’m seeing someone else. Even if she’s insisted she doesn’t want to be exclusive, and there’s nothing technically wrong with that, the idea that she might believe that my interest is anything but entirely wrapped up in her makes me feel like I’m going slightly crazy. Because the truth is, I can’t think of anyone but her.

I start to open my mouth to tell her something about it, just so she’s forewarned that I’ll both be there and that I’ll have a ‘date,’ but Charlotte suddenly holds up a finger, giving me an apologetic look as she answers her phone.

“Yeah? I’m at lunch. Oh—okay. Yeah, I can come back. I’m leaving early, then. Okay. Be right there.”

She tucks her phone back into her purse, that same apologetic look still on her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, pulling out her wallet. “I have to run back to work. There’s a tech problem, and my boss is about to go into a big meeting. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get lunch,” I add, as I see her about to put some cash on the table for her meal.

She frowns. “Are you sure? I?—”

“It’s fine,” I assure her, and she flashes me a smile before jumping up from her chair, hurrying abruptly away from the table and towards the door of the cafe.

I watch her go, a strange, tight feeling in my chest. I want to go after her, but I can’t. I feel helpless to fix a situation that I can see spiraling out of control, and that, more than anything, makes me feel more than a little unhinged.

I have a feeling that whatever happens at the gala Friday night, it’s not going to be good.