Once Upon A Lie 2

Eight:

Baghra Morozova was the kind of woman that could get things done at any time. Because she had the attitude and the money to make things happen. That was how, overnight, she had managed to decorate the apartment that Aleksander used to use for his rendezvous into something tasteful, and fit for a newlywed couple. "Is that a latte machine?" Alina said as Aleksander pulled her into the apartment.

"Yes," said Baghra, "it's top of the line. The Geldrunner Hotel is even envious of the lattes that this machine makes. Perfect for the young couple on the go. Of course, I don't know what you and Aleksander will be doing much of."

"Won't I be working?" Aleksander said. "I assumed father would want me to do an internship now that I'm back."

Baghra made a face. "Your father thinks that you should take some time to heal first. You've been through a traumatic event, Aleksander. You don't need to be working. You need to be getting better."

He scowled. "I'm not an invalid. I just have memory loss."

"I know," said Baghra, "and, in order to the work required for our business, memory is the most important thing. Focus on your new, young wife. Maybe start playing music again. I did have your piano brought here."

She gestured to the corner, where the grand piano Aleksander had practiced on as a child concert pianist sat.

Aleksander stared at it, shocked. "Does father know that you put this in here?"

His mother nodded. "He insisted on it."

He glanced over at Alina, who smiled softly at him. She was wearing one of the old sundresses she used to wear. White, with blue irises printed on it. When he had seen her first, she had been wearing a pink tank top, jeans, and a leather jacket. Alina in sundresses was the Alina that he'd grown up with. Of course, he knew that her wardrobe had been handpicked either by her mother or his. The perfect outfit to represent the perfect society girl.

"Well," said Aleksander, "I guess I'm going to get to play my music again."

Alina smiled. "I guess you are."

Baghra kissed her son on the cheek, then she turned to Alina. "You'll take care of my boy, I trust?"

"Always, Baghra," Alina said.

The older woman smiled. "Then, I leave the two of you to married life." Baghra left, and when she was gone Aleksander locked eyes with Alina.

"We're alone," he said, "and we're married, Mrs. Morozova. What should we do?"

He wanted her desperately to say, "fuck me in our bed". But instead, a strange look crossed her face.

"Why don't you play something for me?" she gestured to the piano. "I haven't heard you play in a long time. Not since..."

"Not since I fucked you in the opera house?" his lips twitched into a smile.

Alina blushed. "Yeah. Not since the opera house."

"Alright. I'll play you something." Aleksander went to the piano. He sat down on the piano bench. "Why don't you come sit next to me?"

Alina nodded. "Alright." She walked over to the piano bench, and sat down next to him. Aleksander started playing.

She laughed a little. "Coldplay?"

"Coldplay," Aleksander said, "Bones, sinking like stones, all that we fought for...."

Alina smiled up at him. Aleksander couldn't help but stare, hard.

She blushed fiercely.

She bit down on her lip. "I'm fighting everything in my power right now to not kiss you."

"Well, that's a very, very foolish thing to do," Aleksander told her, reaching up to stroke her cheek.

"Why is that a foolish thing to do?" Alina asked.

"Because we're married, Mrs. Morozova."

Alina laughed. "You're going to have to think of a new name for me, Aleks, because Mrs. Morozova is technically your mother and that's just weird."

Aleksander made a face. "And you've just ruined something I thought was really sexy two minutes ago."

She smirked. "Diabolical, aren't I?"

"Still want to kiss me?" Aleksander asked.

"I think as long as you're alive, I'm always going to want to kiss you, Aleks." She was a little breathless as she spoke.

Aleksander pressed his forehead against hers. "Then do it, Princess."

Alina licked her lips. She looked down at his.

It had been so long since he had felt her lips on his, they were married, and Aleksander needed her desperately. He kissed her, fiercely, and Alina kissed him back. She gripped his shoulders.

Aleksander broke away briefly just to straddle the piano bench.

He pulled her closer to him, running his hands through her long hair as he kissed her even harder. Alina had straddled the bench as well. She pressed up against him, and he could feel her nipples taught with desire.

"Alina," he said, breathless, "let me fuck my wife in my new apartment."

She pulled away from him, her brown eyes searching his face. Aleksander couldn't fathom what the hesitation was. He understood that he had left her, but he was back, and he was going to try to make it up to her as much as he could. For the rest of their lives.

"Why don't you let me show you how happy I am to have you home?" Alina asked.

"But I should be showing you----"

"Come on," Alina replied.

She undid his pants, pulling them down just so that she could see his cock. Alina took it in her hand, and Aleksander hardened just from her touch.

"FUCK, LINA," Aleksander exclaimed, "you have no idea how much I missed you."

Alina smiled as she stroked him. "Well, why don't I make sure that you never go away again?"

"I'd like to----" he couldn't focus. Aleksander's whole body clenched as Alina played deftly with his cock. "Alina I'm going to----" he came, all over her legs and the piano bench.

Alina let out a little laugh. "I don't think you'll be leaving ever again."

Aleksander shook his head, and kissed her. "Oh, I think I'm going to like being married, wife."

She glanced up at him. "Say it again."

"What? I'm going to like being married?"

"No, wife."

"Wife," he replied, and Alina kissed him.

"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me please."

He pulled his pants off, then picked her up from the piano bench. Not even bothering to clean it up. He carried Alina, bridal style, into their room and put her on the bed. "You've no idea what you've said, Alina. Once this starts, I'm never letting you go."

"Don't want you to," Alina murmured.

"Good," he said, "good girl. Part your thighs for me."

And she did.