Panic Switch полностью

“Dimmi, what is it? Do you not find me attractive anymore? Don’t you love me anymore?” She sounded pathetic for just a moment. She looked at him plaintively with her big brown eyes, tears forming in them. Vostov put down his towel and looked at her, opening his mouth to reassure her, but her mood changed instantly, from insecurity to accusing. “You’re fucking someone else, that’s what it is, isn’t it? All your sexual energy, which you used to reserve exclusively for me, now you’re giving it to someone else. Who is it? Is it that whore Tonya?”

Here we go, Vostov thought. Tonya Pasternak was his chief of staff, and had an impressive but cold beauty. For the last five years, Tonya had offered herself to him, and for five years he’d kept her at a distance. But saying that out loud would not help here. After all, what woman accusing her husband of infidelity would drop the matter on the mere basis of the husband’s denial?

“Larisa, calm the fuck down,” he said, his voice commanding. “I’m not fucking anyone else!” He made the denial despite his earlier thought. Perhaps it was a husband’s reflex.

“Oh, calm down, is that it? You want me to calm down? Why don’t you make me, you pussy?” And with that she slapped his cheek hard, shaving cream flying and hitting the mirror.

There was something about that slap that ignited a hot fury in Vostov. He dropped his towel and grabbed Larisa’s wrists. “Shut up!” he roared at her.

“Make me!” she screamed at him. It made him even angrier, and to his surprise, he realized he had grown an erection unlike what he’d had for half a decade. He grabbed Larisa by the throat so hard he lifted her off her feet, threw her against the wall by the shower, the slightest awareness entering his mind of the small blood stain that appeared where Larisa’s head had been, but it seemed to feed his fury anew. He picked her up under his arm, carried her into the bedroom, tossed her on the bed, slapped her face hard, and ripped off her nightgown. Without conscious thought, he climbed on top of her and entered her as hard as he could, and she was soaking wet. He drilled into her hard, his thrusts violent and fast, his hand still on her throat, choking her hard, only releasing his grip when he saw her eyes roll up, then continued for what had to be a quarter hour. When he saw tears start to stream out of her eyes and fall down her temples onto the bedsheets, he finally finished hard inside her, his orgasm seeming to roll through his entire body for more than a minute.

He rolled off, covered in sweat, breathing like he’d just sprinted two miles. He could feel his wet body soaking the sheets. He chanced a look over at Larisa, and she was giving him a languid happy look, the smile spreading slowly over her face.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, “that was great. My big angry bear, you took me like the champion you are.” Slowly she shut her eyes, and within a minute, she was fast asleep, snoring softly, a half-smile of contentment on her face.

Vostov clamped his fist against his forehead for a moment, thinking that he hated himself when sex was like this. Perhaps that was an alternate meaning of the term, hate-fuck. It occurred to him that this was the last time he would have sex with her. He made the decision in that split second. This marriage was over. And there was no telling what Larisa would do when she realized he would be leaving her. The only thing to do was to go away on business, he thought. Suddenly.

He kissed her cheek, rolled off the bed, finished shaving, showered quickly, and donned his dark brown suit with the dark red tie. He grabbed his phone and left the suite as fast as he could. He unlocked his phone and sent a quick text while he hurried down the hall to Anya’s room and opened the door just as the first beams of sunshine streamed in. He’d tried to be quiet, but the six-year-old opened her eyes and sat up in bed in her pajamas with the pattern of the brave little girl cartoon character staring down a ferocious tiger. She smiled brightly at him.

“Daddy!”

He sat on her bed and hugged her, feeling a wetness rising in his eyes. What would Larisa do, he wondered. Keep little Anya from him as punishment for his filing for divorce? He released her and sat back to look at her, running his hands through her tousled brown hair.

“You’re going away, Daddy?”

He was, he thought, but he couldn’t tell Anya that, or she’d tell the news to Larisa.

“What makes you say that, little angel?”

“You’re wearing a brown suit, Daddy. You always wear one of your brown suits when you’re about to go.”

“Well, we’ll see,” he said. “Daddy’s schedule is very busy this week.”

“Can you take me to school today?”

“Sorry, little one. I have a car waiting for me. I have to get going. I just came to give you a good morning kiss.”

She wrapped her small arms around him again and kissed his cheek. He stroked her hair, trying mightily to keep his eyes dry. He sniffed and tried to smile at her.