Page 14

14

SUTTON

My life in Nassau takes on a simple routine.

I wake up every day at six and go for a long swim. Then I putter around the estate, learning about the property, honing my gardening skills, and cooking whenever I need a little extra catharsis.

In the evenings, Teo gets back from school, so I usually play a couple of games with him and we walk down to the shore to dip our feet in the water.

Most nights I spend with Jesse and Teo down at their cottage. We have dinner together and, when Teo goes to bed, Jesse and I stay up late talking.

She regales me with tales about her sprawling family. She’s the fourth child in a lineup of seven. She’s got a gaggle of nieces and nephews, tons of cousins, and the most elusive of all—parents who are not only still together, but are still in love after almost forty-five years of marriage.

I love hearing about her childhood stories, but they do make me ache inside for everything I didn’t have growing up.

Still, it’s easier than the ache of knowing I will never have certain things. A true love, a happy family, a healthy relationship.

These are things other people have.

Not me.

On Saturdays, Jesse takes me and Teo into the city to do some light shopping. And yes, there’s always ice cream involved.

On Sundays, she and Teo go to see her parents, so I’m left to my own devices, mostly confined to my room because it’s easier than facing an empty house.

I’m content enough with my routine, but the truth is, it’s always undercut by the absences.

Oleg never swims with me at the pool anymore. He hasn’t joined me for a meal in over a week. I barely see him around the house and when I do, he gives me a curt nod and heads in the opposite direction.

It’s as though he’s trying to punish me for calling him out on his bullshit. And I refuse to undo my soap box speech by approaching him and begging him to talk to me.

Maybe this is the only way our relationship can work—if he sticks to his side of the house and I stick to mine.

By the second week of my mostly solitary weekends, I’m so restless that I end up waking up in the middle of the night, wrested from dreams by an ache in my gut that has nothing to do with my pregnancy.

Tonight, my listlessness is punctured by sweat. It’s a balmy night and I made the mistake of keeping my windows open.

I toss and turn for a few minutes, but I can’t go back to sleep.

Then I pick up on something… splashing water? Like someone’s just dived into the pool.

I tiptoe to the balcony in my black panties and thin white camisole and peer over the edge.

So that’s why he doesn’t swim with me in the mornings. Because he’s opted for night swims, probably so that he can avoid me.

Hugging the shadows in the balcony, I stay put, watching his muscles ripple under the bright moonlight.

My entire body burns with need, the heat soaking into my skin and reminding me of desires that I’ve been trying to bury these past few weeks.

But no matter how hard I try to suppress it, my desire for Oleg is still flame-bright and stubborn.

No matter how pissed off I get with him, it refuses to leave my body.

Inching forward a little, I watch as he skims the water, his arms cutting through the surface like a knife through butter. He doesn’t swim so much as glide.

It’s mesmerizing. I could watch him forever.

And I prove it by standing there for ages. So long in fact, that before long, the moon is hanging right above me,

Oleg stops swimming. He must have swum one hundred laps at least. He leans against the side of the pool, his eyes cast towards the ocean.

Feeling confident in my hiding place, I scoot closer to the stucco wall of my balcony and lean forward.

His arms are taut as he pulls himself from the water, the moonlight catching the muscles on his back as he emerges onto the deck.

A gasp flutters out of my mouth.

He’s naked.

Skinny dipping in the pool in the middle of the night.

My jaw drops as he turns. He’s long and thick, hanging between his legs with ease. My hands tighten around the banister like they might have done if I’d been close enough to touch him.

He walks to one of the pool chairs and picks up something. As he steps past the pool chair, I realize he’s holding two weights.

Stark naked, he starts to do bicep curls.

And I find myself biting my tongue, trying to control the wave of desire floating over my body like poison.

The heat engulfing me isn’t helping. In fact, it’s only fanning the flames, tempting me into doing something that I might never have otherwise considered.

Scared to so much as blink, I slide my fingers down and into my panties. I’m already wet… and I can’t even blame the sweat trickling down my back.

Touching myself slowly, my gaze never veers from Oleg—his arms, his abs, his legs.

Then, almost as though he senses that he has an audience, his cock begins to grow.

I swallow hard, trying to control my frantic breathing as I continue to touch myself urgently. The climax is more intense than I’ve ever been able to achieve on my own.

It takes all my concentration not to cry out in pleasure as I come.

But at the moment of release, with my eyes still fastened on Oleg’s engorged cock, I can’t help but release a gasp that echoes down towards the pool.

I freeze, pulling my hand clear of my panties.

But the wind betrays me. It must carry my gasp all the way to Oleg, because his head snaps up in my direction.

The moon is hanging directly overhead, casting me in light.

I have no doubt that Oleg can see me.

I have no doubt he knows exactly what I’m doing.

Unblinkingly, he raises his hand. For a moment, I think he’s about to gesture me downstairs to join him.

But then his palm curls around his erect cock.

Oh.

Oh.

He’s toying with me.

He knows I’m watching… and he’s putting on a show for me.

Heart pounding erratically in my chest, I watch as he starts pumping away at himself, eyes still fixated in my direction.

I have no idea how to react, how to behave. Listening to my body feels like an admission of some kind.

And I’m not sure I’m ready to give him that.

But I can’t turn away, either.

I can’t not watch as he jerks himself off, his massive cock stirring all kinds of passions inside me I didn’t even know I could feel.

Then, all too soon, Oleg grunts, his body keels forward, and he comes in his hand.

I gasp, too, my heart pounding so hard that I can feel the drumbeat ringing in my ears.

God help me.

As Oleg straightens, I recoil into the shadows. When he’s not looking, I rush back into my room and shut the balcony door.

That little show should have satisfied me in some way. But in reality, it’s only unsettled me further. I feel more restless, more listless than ever.

I pace my room, writhing around in my own skin, wishing that I had more to grab hold of, more to satiate the burning desire in the pit of my stomach.

Too many times, I march to my room door, on the verge of going downstairs and finding Oleg.

But I stop myself every time.

Instead, I leave my room door unlocked, hoping that maybe he will come to me.

But my subconscious call doesn’t work.

He never comes.