About five years ago, dreaming about this moment, I imagined our first kiss as tender and innocent. Then I myself was like that.

But now there was not a drop of tenderness in this kiss. His tongue opened my lips, not particularly resisting, and burst into them like a hurricane.

I tried to tear his hands away from my body, but instead I just grabbed them in a death grip and pressed myself against him even tighter. The smell of leather and mint filled my lungs and all sensible thoughts vanished, as if my brain realized that it could not keep up with the body and decided not to take part in the madness that was happening.

No, Gleb did not change his anger to mercy. He still hated me, and if four years ago he took out evil on my soul, now it's my body's turn. Although it’s still a question of whom he now hates more - me or himself for how he reacts to me.

His hands greedily felt all my curves, as if he was afraid that I was about to come to my senses and find the strength to push him away from me. Fingers slid down my stomach, crawling under the silk top. And I did what I had dreamed of for so long - I ran my hands into his thick hair, at the same time pulling him to me by the neck. It's not enough for me, I need to feel it even closer. I literally choke on this kiss, but I don’t plan to stop. Even in such a clouded state, I understand that what is happening between us now is a one-time action and will never happen again, so I want every cell of my body to remember everything that happens.

I don’t know how long this madness lasted, but at some point my jacket was on the floor and he released my chest from the top. His hands seem to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. As soon as they touch a new part of my body, it immediately heats up and melts at the touch, but as soon as his hot palms move lower or higher, the skin in that place becomes covered with goosebumps, demanding his attention again. This is akin to torture, although nothing else could be expected from Uritsky. One joy, apparently, he reacts to my touch in the same way.

Somewhere in the depths of my consciousness, an insidious thought flashes through me to turn around and leave, leave him wildly excited and incredibly angry, but I understand that my own body will not obey me if I order it to stop.

Therefore, I finally say goodbye to my common sense and reach for the button of his leather pants.

I hear a guttural groan as he understands my intentions. Did he really think we'd leave everything at PG-13? Although most likely, he, like me, did not think about anything. Be that as it may, he is in no hurry to stop me, he just freezes for a second, looking at me with wide eyes and I notice that his pupils have grown to incredible sizes, blackness has replaced the usual cold blue. And realizing that it is I who influence him so much, I myself get even more excited.

My pants end up in a pile of crumpled clothes on the floor and he lightly pushes me towards the bike. I put my hands on the still hot chrome, and at that moment Gleb gets rid of another detail of my wardrobe, lowering delicate lace to the ankles. Of the clothes on me, only a strip of a top remained at the waist, but I am not at all embarrassed by my nakedness, but on the contrary, I arch my back and slightly spread my legs.

I hear the sound of tearing foil and am glad that Uritsky, unlike me, has not completely lost his head and remembered this important detail.

This is my last conscious thought, because literally in a moment I am no longer able to think about anything except Gleb and what he is doing to me.

My main mistake was to look into his eyes, I had to just silently get dressed and pretend that what happened had the same meaning for me as it did for him, namely, nothing. But for some reason I caught his eye and saw in it not only regret (I was not surprised at all, I myself understood that we had made a terrible mistake). But there was something in his gaze other than regret… the contempt that he never really hid, once again returned to replace passion. It's like he can't wait to get in the shower and get all the dirt off him.

- Get dressed, - he throws clothes at me without looking, - So be it, we will assume that you managed to persuade me: your antics on the track will remain between us. Like everything else, of course. But if I see you here again, blame yourself, your father will spank you on the ass, not me.

I look into his eyes, trying to see any emotion there. But all I see is the same icy contempt, piercing me with cold to the very bones.

How many times have I promised myself that this man would never make me cry again, and here I am standing in front of him, saturated through and through with his smell, on the verge of tears. For him, this is just a game, another way to humiliate me and trample on the remnants of my pride.

In order to somehow erase the contemptuous smirk from his face, I pulled out my phone from my pocket and began to quickly move my finger across the screen.

“Dear brother,” I say, raising my eyes to Gleb for a second. - I bring to your attention that just now your best friend, as well as the co-founder of your "everyone hates Polina" club, fucked me right at your motorcycle. In his defense, I can say that he defended the honor of the above vehicle, which I used (please note, not for the first time) without permission. In my defense, I can say that it is quite difficult to ask permission from someone with whom you have not communicated for four years. No respect, your sister!

One moment, and Uritsky is next to me, snatching the phone out of his hands. Fright turns to bewilderment when he realizes that my mobile is not even unlocked.

“Relax, Uritsky,” now it’s my turn to grin, “I don’t have his number, so if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to write to Maxim. But for the future... blackmailing me is a very bad idea.