The Winemaker's Dinner: Dessert (The Winemaker's Feast) Read Online Free
Author: Dr. Ivan Rusilko
anymore. Go! his mind screamed at him. A heavy sigh escaped his mouth, and his head dropped back against the chair. He didn’t want to go to the Fontainebleau, nor did he want to be alone. But the pull of a physical connection and the moment’s peace it offered was too good to refuse. Ivan could hear his inner freak’s laughter and feel his anticipation building as his fingers flew across the phone:
I’ll be there in 30.
As he hit send, an overwhelming sense of disgust leached through his body. This was not him. This wasn’t what he wanted, or who he wanted to be, but it was what he needed. The feel and touch of a woman was the only thing that could bring him close to what he’d once had with her—the nirvana he craved to experience again, if just for an hour. Sex was the drug for the heartache that plagued him. It let him feel like he wasn’t fucking them, he was fucking her, and it was a sweet escape until it was over and he was once again consumed by the guilt and shame of his desperation. The rougher the sex, the more intense and real the mirage of her.
Ivan hated his addiction. He hated that he was strung out on it all the time. But at least he was doing something . This was a step farther down the road, which was progress. And life was about progress, right? Nearly paralyzed by guilt, his body tried to stand and ready itself for a night of carnal lust, but his heart pleaded with him not to. Love had kicked the shit out of him…twice. But as far as he was concerned, this overwhelming feeling of loss and foreboding was something he’d have to fuck his way through until the pain eased. Go ahead and fuck her, the freak encouraged. Ivan silently conceded, and the freaky little bastard exulted, suddenly free to get his next fix from one of the many nameless, meaningless sexual drug dealers that prowled Miami Beach.
Ivan tossed back the last of his wine and hurried to get dressed before he changed his mind. It enraged the freak when his conscience interceded, and in return the cruel monster would make him suffer. Rifling through his closet, he grabbed a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt he’d gotten from his sister one Christmas. Trust me. I’m a doctor , it read. The irony of the message wasn’t lost on him. It took less than a minute to brush his teeth, pull his hair into a loose ponytail and daub his neck, chest, and crotch with cologne.
Still battling with the freak, but knowing he was fighting a losing battle—these days the freak always won—Ivan grabbed a wad of twenties from the nightstand drawer and gave himself the onceover in the full-length mirror. He snatched his aviators from the hall table and hung them from the neck of his T-shirt. It was the same routine over and over again. He knew the freak wouldn’t be sated again until the light of day. He started down the hall to the elevator, but something nagged at him.
“Condoms! Shit.” He hung his head and scolded himself as he darted back to his apartment. The weight of the tiny box felt like a hundred pounds in the palm of his hand, but it was a hundred pounds he had to bear. He needed his fix, and he hated himself for it.
Chapter 4
“Down With the Sickness”
“F UCK M E L IKE Y OU M EAN I T !” the woman screamed as she lay on her back with her knees pinned to the bed on either side of her head. Ivan was more than happy to oblige.
The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh confirmed that he was fucking her just as she’d asked. Hard thrusts took him deeper and deeper into her, numbing his mind and satisfying his body. His triceps ached from supporting his weight as he thrust in and out of her, and his calves began to scream for mercy as they flexed harder and harder to keep pace.
“Do you like it when I fuck you hard?” he yelled back, not caring what answer she’d give. He didn’t need to hear it because it was written on her face. This girl was no different from any of the others he’d bedded. They all liked it hard,
I’ll be there in 30.
As he hit send, an overwhelming sense of disgust leached through his body. This was not him. This wasn’t what he wanted, or who he wanted to be, but it was what he needed. The feel and touch of a woman was the only thing that could bring him close to what he’d once had with her—the nirvana he craved to experience again, if just for an hour. Sex was the drug for the heartache that plagued him. It let him feel like he wasn’t fucking them, he was fucking her, and it was a sweet escape until it was over and he was once again consumed by the guilt and shame of his desperation. The rougher the sex, the more intense and real the mirage of her.
Ivan hated his addiction. He hated that he was strung out on it all the time. But at least he was doing something . This was a step farther down the road, which was progress. And life was about progress, right? Nearly paralyzed by guilt, his body tried to stand and ready itself for a night of carnal lust, but his heart pleaded with him not to. Love had kicked the shit out of him…twice. But as far as he was concerned, this overwhelming feeling of loss and foreboding was something he’d have to fuck his way through until the pain eased. Go ahead and fuck her, the freak encouraged. Ivan silently conceded, and the freaky little bastard exulted, suddenly free to get his next fix from one of the many nameless, meaningless sexual drug dealers that prowled Miami Beach.
Ivan tossed back the last of his wine and hurried to get dressed before he changed his mind. It enraged the freak when his conscience interceded, and in return the cruel monster would make him suffer. Rifling through his closet, he grabbed a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt he’d gotten from his sister one Christmas. Trust me. I’m a doctor , it read. The irony of the message wasn’t lost on him. It took less than a minute to brush his teeth, pull his hair into a loose ponytail and daub his neck, chest, and crotch with cologne.
Still battling with the freak, but knowing he was fighting a losing battle—these days the freak always won—Ivan grabbed a wad of twenties from the nightstand drawer and gave himself the onceover in the full-length mirror. He snatched his aviators from the hall table and hung them from the neck of his T-shirt. It was the same routine over and over again. He knew the freak wouldn’t be sated again until the light of day. He started down the hall to the elevator, but something nagged at him.
“Condoms! Shit.” He hung his head and scolded himself as he darted back to his apartment. The weight of the tiny box felt like a hundred pounds in the palm of his hand, but it was a hundred pounds he had to bear. He needed his fix, and he hated himself for it.
Chapter 4
“Down With the Sickness”
“F UCK M E L IKE Y OU M EAN I T !” the woman screamed as she lay on her back with her knees pinned to the bed on either side of her head. Ivan was more than happy to oblige.
The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh confirmed that he was fucking her just as she’d asked. Hard thrusts took him deeper and deeper into her, numbing his mind and satisfying his body. His triceps ached from supporting his weight as he thrust in and out of her, and his calves began to scream for mercy as they flexed harder and harder to keep pace.
“Do you like it when I fuck you hard?” he yelled back, not caring what answer she’d give. He didn’t need to hear it because it was written on her face. This girl was no different from any of the others he’d bedded. They all liked it hard,
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