We’re now growing into a big family. I felt it that day when I celebrated Christmas again after nearly seven years of shunning it, but now I’m happy to have this new family.
It’s better than anything I could’ve wished for.
I have two sisters who are not related to me by blood. The quirky Karina, who’s arguing with Viktor in the corner while he ignores her. She’s been in therapy since Yulia died and has been making a lot of progress.
The other unexpected sister is Kristina. We’ve been doing this pregnancy thing together. She’s helped me tremendously, and I wouldn’t have been able to do this without her.
There’s also Anna’s support, Konstantin’s compassion, and even Viktor’s grumpy existence. Not to mention the rest of the guards, who bring me all sorts of exotic fruits and delicious desserts in case I’m craving something.
Those men were and always will be my comrades, despite Kirill’s narrowed eyes and silent threats to eliminate them.
But the most important member of my family is my husband. Sometimes, it scares me how much I love him.
How frightened I am about his well-being and protection.
If he’s ever in danger, I have no doubt that I’ll pull a Maksim and use my body as his human shield. And the best part? I know he’d do the same without hesitation, too.
We spent so much time either suspecting or being wary of one another, so this phase of mutual understanding and trust has been heaven-like.
“Excuse me,” I tell Lia and Rai, then swiftly leave the small circle.
I don’t even blame it on the hormones anymore, I just want my husband.
He says he was traumatized by the two months of thinking I was dead, but I also longed for him to the point of madness—including when I thought I hated him.
Kirill lifts his head, sensing me approaching him even when I’m still far away. His eyes blaze a bright blue color, and he leaves the people he’s with in an instant. After abandoning his glass of champagne on a table, he meets me halfway and wraps an arm around my middle.
My whole body comes alive when I’m in his embrace, and I place a hand on his shoulder, needing to feel his warmth against me.
“You should be resting, Sasha.” He strokes my hair behind my ear. It’s reaching the small of my back now, and while it’s a hassle to wash and style, I’m fine with that as long as he always touches it, whether like this or when he tugs me by it during sex.
We sway to the music while hugging one another. “I’m tired of resting.”
“Your feet were more swollen than usual this morning.”
“That’s normal. I can take it.”
“Well, I can’t. I don’t like it when you’re in pain.”
“I’m not, really.”
He raises a brow. “Yesterday, you were crying because you wanted a glass of water.”
“Yeah, well, it happens.”
“The day before yesterday, you were crying because, and I quote, ‘You aren’t fucking me properly, you fucking bastard.’”
“You were too gentle.”
I really hate how he’s become freaked out about hurting our son or me lately. A few weeks after that incident, the doctor said sex is okay, including rough, but he always takes it easy on me.
Am I wrong for wanting the version from before he found out I was pregnant?
“Looks like I’ve created a monster.” He chuckles. “In all seriousness, I really don’t want you in pain or even strained, Solnyshko.”
“I’m not. Really. The doctor also said it’s okay.” I get on my tiptoes and kiss his stubbled jaw. “You know I love it when you don’t hold back.”
He groans when I rub my belly on his growing erection.
“Sasha…”
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Stop that unless you’re in the mood to get fucked.”
“You know I am.”
He curses under his breath and barely lasts a few seconds before he grabs me by the wrist and drags me to a spare room on the first floor.
It’s more like a sitting room with a few sofas, a coffee table, and a fireplace.
As soon as he closes the door, he pins me against it, and his mouth clashes with mine. Kirill always kisses me with heat and boundless desire, but right now, it’s more animalistic and raw yet also tender.
Ever since I was in the hospital, he’s been kissing me as if he loves me. As if he’s grateful to have me.
Someone like Kirill will always be an authoritarian monster with skewed views of the world, but he makes me feel like I’m the center of his world.
The one person he looks for every morning and hugs to sleep every night.
The one person he tells everything to, whether it’s brotherhood business or his family business.
He didn’t only make me his wife and partner with words but also with his actions.
He also offered me the official position of his counselor if that’s what I want.
Without leaving my lips, he drags me to the sofa and lays me on top, his large hands groping me everywhere. I’m so hypersensitive that I moan from each touch. He pulls back and I’m slammed by the passionate, animalistic look in his eyes.
“I’ve been trying.” He unbuckles his belt and releases his hard cock. “I’ve been really trying to take it easy on you, but you’re making it impossible, Solnyshko.”
I inch up my dress and slide down my panties, then kick them away and part my legs as far as possible. My pussy is throbbing wet as I palm his cheek. “I never asked you to take it easy on me.”
“Is that so?”
I bite his lower lip and then release it with a pop. “Fuck me, Luchik.”
That’s all the invitation he needs as he thrusts all the way inside in one go. I’m tight, and the friction feels so good.
“You want it like this, wife?” he asks against my throat, then bites down. “You want me to fuck you like an animal?”
“Yes, yes…” I hold on to him and jerk my hips.
“You’re driving me fucking insane.” He wraps his hand around my throat and goes deeper, harder, giving me the stimulation I’ve been begging for.
Yes, he gives me orgasms, but mostly by eating me out or stimulating me. He usually doesn’t want to go to these lengths.
If I’d known all I had to do was provoke him, I would’ve done this ages ago.
My legs tense, and I bite onto his neck as I come with a muffled scream. Kirill goes on, pounding into me with delicious intensity until he finds his own peak.
“I love you, Luchik,” I whisper against his neck as we bask in the afterglow.
He runs his finger over the tattoo with his name on it, then kisses my belly. “I love you more, Solnyshko.”
“No way in hell.”
He pulls out, tucks himself back in, and changes positions so that I’m sitting on his lap. He doesn’t care that I’m messing up his pants with the evidence of our pleasure that’s dripping from between my thighs.
“I got your name tattooed on me,” I say.
“Why do you think I have too many suns tattooed on my skin? Besides…” He unbuttons his shirt and traces his fingers over the tattoos he got on top of his gunshot wound.
I lean closer, and my eyes widen. All this time, I thought it was a sun and a skull intertwined with lines, but in the middle of it, I read it loud and clear in Russian.