Tatiana
Chapter twenty-six
Lev leaves to chop wood, even though we still have plenty that he bought.
I think he needed some space. Roman has sexy glasses on as he reads one of the books from the bookshelf, and Mikhail sits across from me, frowning at the chessboard.
He’s always been better at chess than me, but it’s still fun to play him.
He’s so patient and thoughtful; he’s always six steps ahead. And I just can’t be bothered.
But the silence is driving me out of my skin.
Yes, I’m sore, but not done by a long shot.
While I’ve always loved reading about sex, I’d only ever lived vicariously through words on a page.
Now that I’ve had the real thing, I don’t want to stop.
Knowing we have an end date makes me feel like a pressure cooker.
I want all the sex.
I don’t understand how Roman is just casually reading, and how Mik can concentrate on chess.
But then I remember his tattoos. How do I ask him about them? I want to know if he’s always wanted me, but what do I do with his answer? If his answer is yes, I’ll feel terrible that he’s been right in front of me this entire time and I never saw it. If he says ‘no’, where does that leave us?
Because I think I’ve loved him this entire time.
It wasn’t sexual, even though he’s gorgeous, in an emo type of way, but it’s his personality; his soul.
It’s the way he takes care of me without me ever having to ask.
It’s how he anticipates what I need and always provides without effort.
It’s in how he holds me and talks to me; like I’m someone important.
Because let’s be honest - I’m not someone important. My parents treated me like a houseplant growing up. I was watered and fed, and as long as I didn’t throw a tantrum, I was allowed to do whatever I wanted.
My mom’s matchmaking is bitter proof of how much she wants to get rid of me.
I don’t have friends, besides Mik and Lev and Roman to an extent - even though he’s tried to keep me at an arm’s length, I consider him a friend.
And that’s when it dawns on me. The thought strikes through me like lightning.
I love love.
But I have no idea what love actually is.
Disney is a lame example of love. A woman sees a man and “falls in love”. But what the fuck does that actually mean? And then we’re supposed to believe they lived happily ever after?
But of course, that doesn’t happen in real life.
I love Mikhail. I love his steadfastness, his thoughtfulness, his care. I love that I’m the only person who truly knows him. I’ve always loved him. I chose to love him from the moment I saw him, wet and bloodied in that alley.
Is that what love is? Choosing the other person?
It was just never romantic, because we were friends. What is romantic love anyway? Dinner dates? Flowers?
Do I even want that?
No. I can buy myself flowers, and I enjoy a quiet evening in with Mik more than dining out.
I want my person. I want to know that I’m seen and chosen, even when I’m having ugly moments.
And I want to choose that person right back, every day.
I want to love them and support them, and be what they need.
I threw on pajamas before we decided to play chess, but Mik’s still shirtless and I let my eyes devour his skin.
Pale skin, painted with my artwork, covers more muscles than I thought he had.
Large, wide pecs sit atop cut abs; even relaxed and slouched forward like his is, he’s gorgeous.
His shoulders, biceps, forearms, even his hands are sexy.
How I never noticed how hot he was before, I’ll never know. I’m an idiot.
“You’re staring,” he says, his eyes never leaving the board.
I want to lick every inch of him.
Fuck chess.
I stand, swipe my hand across the board, letting the plastic pieces fly onto the floor dramatically.
Mik suppresses a grin.
I stand up and move to sit on the board, demanding his full attention. I don’t give him a moment to object before I have his face in both of my hands and his lips on mine.
His lips are warm and soft, and he opens for me, letting my tongue dance with his.
I’m instantly turned on again. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to kissing him.
I love the feel of his piercings against my tongue, the way he turns completely pliant beneath me, like he’s been holding his breath and can finally release it with me.
This big, strong, stoic man melting for me might be one of my favorite things in the world.
I know he doesn’t see it, but the way girls watch him on campus always bothered me.
He’s got this edgy, bad-boy aura that attracts attention.
It’s always bothered me, but I could never put a finger on why.
I want to see him date. I want to see him happy.
But that territorial little voice in the back of my head always screamed ‘mine!’ whenever girls would stare.
No one ever had the courage to approach him, at least not that I know of.
But knowing that he’s here, and he’s mine, and maybe always has been, has pride surging through my chest.
Finally, he pulls apart, both of us gasping for air.
“If we keep going, I’m going to cum in my pants,” he admits, and I love how more confident he seems. And how he’s not afraid of looking weak for it.
My grin widens. “And?” I tease playfully, dragging my tongue up the side of his neck.
He groans in response, his hands threading through my hair. We’ve often lain on the couch together while he played with my hair. It always felt good, but I never knew how sexual and sensual it could be. I ache to have his hands all over me.
Instead, he stands, bringing me with him in his arms until I’m forced to wrap my legs around his waist. I squeal in delight at being manhandled. I’m tall for a girl and certainly not light.
He walks us to the kitchen and sets me down on the island.
“You’re sore, and I’m horny. We need to stop,” he reprimands me, the way a kitten hisses - with no real heat behind it.
He digs around the cabinets until he finds the granola bars Lev bought. My smile widens when I realize he’s bought my favorite kind. The ones that taste more like Reese's Cups than actual granola.
But he did that with the Pop-Tarts, too. I haven’t had a Pop-Tart since I was a kid, and yet he bought my favorite flavor.
Hopping off the island, I scour the cabinets. He’s bought my favorite trail mix. He’s even bought my favorite flavor of smoked sardines. He’s been paying attention this entire time? How have I never noticed? I feel like the world’s biggest idiot, even as my chest clenches in realization.
It’s not enough that they’ll all have been attracted to me for years - they may have loved me for years.
I spin to test a theory. “Ro. When’s my birthday?”
“April twenty-six. Why?”
“What do I crave when I’m PMSing?”
“Fat and salt.”
“What’s my favorite movie?”
“Pretty Woman. What’s with the pop quiz?”
The speed at which he answers me is dizzying.
“What’s something I’m afraid of?”
“Spiders. Dying alone. Wrinkles.” His crow’s feet show themselves when he says the last one, teasingly.
They’ve been paying attention for years.
The thrill at being seen by not one, but three men, fades when I realize I don’t know anything about them.
I mean, I know them. I know Mik. But I don’t know Roman’s favorite movie, because I’ve never asked.
Last night was the first time I’ve ever asked anything about them.
I’ve been the center of my own universe.
I’ve been selfish. I’ve been self-centered. Shame is there, but at the same time I remind myself that I’ve sort of had to be self-centered. Irina and Dmitri never cared about me, so I’ve had to care about myself. Niko tolerates me, but doesn’t really care about my day-to-day life.
I was raised to be selfish.
That’s going to change today, though.
I’m about to go to Roman and ask him everything about himself that I don’t know yet, but the front door slams open and Lev marches back in, dusting snow off his shoulders. His face is blotchy and red from the cold, or from the exercise of chopping wood.
He marches to me, almost like he’s angry, before he grips my hips and spins me, pushing the front of me against the island.
“Lev?” I ask, but he rips my yoga pants and panties to my knees, drops to his knees behind me, and drags his tongue up my pussy.
I gasp loudly and moan at the sensation.
His cold nose tickles my asshole as he buries his face in my pussy and tongue fucks me like he’s starved for me. I’m instantly soaked for him.
He’s taking everything I told him I wanted and making it happen.
Just like that. I said, ‘jump’ and he said, ‘how high?’ Roman told him we needed food, so he bought all of my favorites.
Leo hurt me, so he hurt him right back - harder.
I’m starting to realize that the man who annoyed me a week ago loves with his entire being.
And maybe I’ve been the lucky recipient of his love all these years.
He’s been taking care of me a lot longer than I realized.
My back arches as he sucks my clit into his mouth, tonguing it violently.
“Mik. Kiss our girl,” he says before diving back into devouring me. I moan wantonly. Our girl. I am their girl. I want to be their good girl. I want to show them how much I appreciate them. I want to give back as much as they’ve already given to me.
Mik appears on the other side of the island and grips my neck gently in his large hand, bringing my face to his. He doesn’t kiss me right away, though. He brushes his lips lightly over mine, teasingly. It’s too much and not enough for what Lev’s doing to my pussy.
I’m quickly spinning higher and higher. Mik steals my breath as Lev makes me squirm, and when a hand caresses my breast, and I open my eyes to see Roman’s joined the fun, I explode, coming harder than I’ve ever come before.
I scream, but it’s swallowed by Mik. I tilt forward, but Lev’s wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me up.
The entire time, Roman’s lips caress the skin of my neck.
My vision blackens on the sides as I come down from my high. My entire body falls slack, and Lev dips to pick me up bridal-style. I’m buzzing, happy, sated, content as he lays me back on the mattress in the center of the room.
I could live the rest of my life here.
With these men.
In this cabin.