There is a sniffing sound on the other side, then something clanging followed by a whispered curse.
“I’m feeling sick again, I’m not sure if it’s from telling you this or the pregnancy. Probably both. I have to get back to my puking. If you need to know anything else, message me and I’ll ask Roman. Just . . . don’t ask Mikhail.”
I tap at the phone and let it fall on the blanket, then bury my face into the pillow. And cry.
The door to the bedroom opens a couple of hours later, but I keep my head under the blanket and pretend I’m sleeping. No way can I let Mikhail see me in this state, he’ll know that something happened right away. I hear his steps approach the bed, and a moment later, I feel a light kiss on the top of my head. He whispers a few words in Russian and then he’s gone. I cry for another hour after he leaves, wondering how a person who went through something like Mikhail did, can be so tender and loving.
When I go into the bathroom to take a shower my face is still red and my eyes puffy. At least it’s dark now, and the swelling should be gone by morning.
The light is off when I enter our bedroom. Mikhail is lying on his side asleep, back turned toward the door. I tiptoe to the bed, get under the blanket, and place my head on the pillow, burying my face into Mikhail’s neck.
“I thought you were sleeping,” he says.
I reach out with my hand and stroke the length of his back, feeling the ridges along the way, then move to his stomach and the wide patch of molted skin where he was burned, and, finally, up to the long thin scar on his chest.
“I love you.” My voice is so very faint, but I know he hears me, because he embraces me around my waist and crushes me against his chest.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” I tell Maxim and cut the call.
When I exit the gym, Bianca lifts her head from her coffee and follows me with her gaze as I walk to the kitchen. I left my T-shirt in the gym, and it feels strange being in front of someone with my chest and back so casually on display. I don’t think anyone saw me shirtless for more than a decade. She watches me over the rim of her cup, her gaze traveling from my stomach and across my chest, but there is no reluctance in her eyes. Her gaze is roaming my body, and based on the way the corner of her lip curls up, she likes what she sees.
I open the fridge to take out a bottle of water when there is a sudden touch at the small of my back, a finger trailing circular pattern upward across my skin, then back down along my spine. Another finger on my right bicep, traveling to my front then going down my chest. When she reaches the waistband of my sweats, she slides her hand inside to grip my cock, and leans onto my back.
“Shit, baby . . . I need to be at the pakhan’s in an hour.”
Bianca’s hand slips into my boxer briefs and wraps around my already hard length, and at the same time, I feel her tongue on my back, licking along my spine. I snap. A growl escapes from my chest as I turn, and grabbing her around the waist, I throw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold and run toward the bedroom.
The moment I put her down, Bianca takes the waistband of my sweats and pushes them down along with my boxer briefs. A mischievous grin spreads over her face as she pushes me onto the bed then crawls over my body to press her mouth to mine. She bites my lip, moves lower, trailing kisses down my neck and chest, then stops when she reaches my stomach.
“Looks like our roles have been reversed this time,” she signs, smirking.
“Oh? How so?”
“I still have my clothes on. And you are the one fully naked.” She signs, traces the tip of her finger down my stomach and brushes my fully erect cock. “At my mercy.”
I wonder if she realizes how true her declaration is. She could press a gun to my temple and pull the trigger, and I wouldn’t move a finger to stop her. As I watch, she bends and licks the tip of my cock, and it takes a tremendous amount of control not to let myself come immediately. Another lick, circling the head of my cock, then she slowly takes it into her mouth. I suck in a breath and grab her braid that had fallen over her shoulder.
Keeping the end of the braid between my fingers, I wrap the length of it around my hand, once, twice, and then the third time until I reach the nape of her neck. Then I pull on it, until Bianca lets my cock slide from her mouth with a pop and looks up at me. I tighten my hold on her hair and watch as she arches her delicate neck. She seems so breakable, but that doesn’t matter. No one will dare put a finger on her ever again, because now she has her own monster to watch over her. Placing my free hand on the side of that fragile neck, I brush the line of her chin with my thumb.