another.
“Run!” Henrietta screamed, and then they were off. Without thinking, her hand slipped into Ivan’s and they careened through the midday crowd, pushing past amazed onlookers as angry shouts followed them down the street.
“This way.” He pulled her into an alley between a pet shop and a pharmacist and kept running. He turned left and then right and then boosted her over a fence, something she hadn’t done since her tomboy days.
Her stockings were ruined, her gloves were shredded, and her heart was beating out of her chest. What had she done? What had she gotten herself into?
There was a thud as Ivan landed in the small enclosure behind her. They both breathed heavily for a moment, but there were no pounding footsteps heading in their direction, no hoots and hollers from people who wanted to do them harm.
“Did they hurt you?” He stalked toward her with that intense gaze that made her feel like the center of his universe.
“No,” she said. The word was barely out of her mouth when his mouth came down on hers and her mind went blank.
The man could kiss. Sofie had been kissed before and kissed well, but this was something entirely different. His lips were warm and smooth, and so, so soft. It evoked a sort of tenderness in her that a man so strong, who brawled with other men by choice, could have such sweet, soft lips. They rubbed over hers, tantalizing, before his tongue swept into her mouth. He tasted of the milkshake that had been tossed on him, and of peppermint candy.
Sofie knew she should pull away, but instead let him kiss her. Spirals of pleasures cycloned through her body, picking up the anger and fear and adrenalin surging through her and churning it all into lust. She didn’t want to think of the men who hated her and the things they’d called her. She didn’t want to feel that sick sadness anymore. In Ivan’s arms, all of that faded away, leaving only pleasure. His large hands encircled her waist holding her in place as he kissed her senseless. One hand slid up her back, cradling her neck as he transferred his kisses from her mouth, to her jaw, to her neck.
Sofie touched her neck every day—bathing, applying perfume—but never had she known it could feel so damned good. The skin there seemed oversensitized, so that Ivan’s every touch multiplied and raced off through her like the Pony Express, carrying messages of the pleasure to come to the further regions of her body.
The brush of his lips converted the fluttering in her belly into something warm and fluid as molasses that settled warmly between her legs. The scrape of his stubble made her rub her thighs together to assuage the need for touch. And then his teeth grazed her skin as his hand moved up to cup her breast, and she bucked in his arms at the jolt of it. His thumb ran over the pebbled nipple through the material of the dress, slowly caressing as his tongue circled around that wonderful spot where neck and shoulder met.
“Jesus,” she moaned, the word the only thing that could convey what Ivan’s mouth and hands were doing to her. The power and the glory, indeed.
“Wrong Jew,” he said, and kissed her again.
Sofie faintly heard a tinkling noise that began to pull her back to reality, but the sound of the back door of a shop opening seemed to reach her in slow motion. She didn’t push Ivan away until after she heard a man call out his name angrily, until after she heard the ugly word “schvartze,” yet another derogatory term for her people, mixed in with an angry deluge of Yiddish. Ivan pulled away from her.
The magic of the moment disappeared and Sofie realized that they were standing behind a dumpster, like so much refuse. Shame flooded her when she saw the expression of disgust on the man’s face, but even being caught red-handed like a back-alley hussy couldn’t strip her of her manners.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Friedman.” She turned to Ivan, who looked like he had much more impolite things to say
“Run!” Henrietta screamed, and then they were off. Without thinking, her hand slipped into Ivan’s and they careened through the midday crowd, pushing past amazed onlookers as angry shouts followed them down the street.
“This way.” He pulled her into an alley between a pet shop and a pharmacist and kept running. He turned left and then right and then boosted her over a fence, something she hadn’t done since her tomboy days.
Her stockings were ruined, her gloves were shredded, and her heart was beating out of her chest. What had she done? What had she gotten herself into?
There was a thud as Ivan landed in the small enclosure behind her. They both breathed heavily for a moment, but there were no pounding footsteps heading in their direction, no hoots and hollers from people who wanted to do them harm.
“Did they hurt you?” He stalked toward her with that intense gaze that made her feel like the center of his universe.
“No,” she said. The word was barely out of her mouth when his mouth came down on hers and her mind went blank.
The man could kiss. Sofie had been kissed before and kissed well, but this was something entirely different. His lips were warm and smooth, and so, so soft. It evoked a sort of tenderness in her that a man so strong, who brawled with other men by choice, could have such sweet, soft lips. They rubbed over hers, tantalizing, before his tongue swept into her mouth. He tasted of the milkshake that had been tossed on him, and of peppermint candy.
Sofie knew she should pull away, but instead let him kiss her. Spirals of pleasures cycloned through her body, picking up the anger and fear and adrenalin surging through her and churning it all into lust. She didn’t want to think of the men who hated her and the things they’d called her. She didn’t want to feel that sick sadness anymore. In Ivan’s arms, all of that faded away, leaving only pleasure. His large hands encircled her waist holding her in place as he kissed her senseless. One hand slid up her back, cradling her neck as he transferred his kisses from her mouth, to her jaw, to her neck.
Sofie touched her neck every day—bathing, applying perfume—but never had she known it could feel so damned good. The skin there seemed oversensitized, so that Ivan’s every touch multiplied and raced off through her like the Pony Express, carrying messages of the pleasure to come to the further regions of her body.
The brush of his lips converted the fluttering in her belly into something warm and fluid as molasses that settled warmly between her legs. The scrape of his stubble made her rub her thighs together to assuage the need for touch. And then his teeth grazed her skin as his hand moved up to cup her breast, and she bucked in his arms at the jolt of it. His thumb ran over the pebbled nipple through the material of the dress, slowly caressing as his tongue circled around that wonderful spot where neck and shoulder met.
“Jesus,” she moaned, the word the only thing that could convey what Ivan’s mouth and hands were doing to her. The power and the glory, indeed.
“Wrong Jew,” he said, and kissed her again.
Sofie faintly heard a tinkling noise that began to pull her back to reality, but the sound of the back door of a shop opening seemed to reach her in slow motion. She didn’t push Ivan away until after she heard a man call out his name angrily, until after she heard the ugly word “schvartze,” yet another derogatory term for her people, mixed in with an angry deluge of Yiddish. Ivan pulled away from her.
The magic of the moment disappeared and Sofie realized that they were standing behind a dumpster, like so much refuse. Shame flooded her when she saw the expression of disgust on the man’s face, but even being caught red-handed like a back-alley hussy couldn’t strip her of her manners.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Friedman.” She turned to Ivan, who looked like he had much more impolite things to say
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