Chapter 44
Mikhail
At two in the morning, I’m down into the heated pool area on the first floor, a towel wrapped around my naked shoulders. I couldn’t sleep. Too many things are going through my head at once, and the only thing I can do for now is wait. I fucking hate waiting.
Throwing the towel on a nearby lounge chair, I shuffle to the edge of the pool and plunge. A loud splash ripples behind me as I submerge myself completely, the water growling in my ears, brushing my skin with small waves. Then, silence.
Time slows, and when my body floats to the bottom, I don’t resist it.
I’ve been here before, alone and wanting to find meaning in the pain that followed me everywhere.
When you’re desperate, you’ll try anything.
Drugs. Pussy. Booze. Even healthy shit like night swimming.
Nothing ever works, yet this has been the only thing that can distract me without making me feel slow in the morning. So, here I am.
My lungs begin to hurt, begging for oxygen. Slowly, I push into the floor and swim up, breaking the smooth surface with the top of my head. I throw my hair back, shaking it off, the dim blue light of the room and the steam enveloping me.
Exhaustion gnaws at me, the water pulling at the stitches in my shoulder where Remus shot me—a reminder of the plans that haven’t been wrapped up.
Fucker is supposed to go to war with Antonio soon, yet my focus is nowhere near getting back Chicago.
The only thing I care about is for Maksim to send me those fucking files already so I can help my wife.
It’s been a few days already, and if he doesn’t call by morning, I’m going over there to see him.
Footsteps echo through the open space behind me, and I turn, surprised to see my wife standing next to the pool. She’s wrapped in a big, soft towel, appearing to be naked underneath. My cock quadruples in size, and I try my hardest to ignore it.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I ask, swimming to the edge.
She steps forward, shrugging. “I woke up alone and asked Svetlana for you. I’m tired of being with these awful thoughts.”
Me too, Lastochka. Me too.
“Do you mind if I join you? Or would you rather be alone?”
“You never have to ask,” I say, swallowing at the sight of her hands preparing to unwrap the towel. “Come here.” A small smile frames her face, and she turns around, doing exactly that, revealing her back to me like the goddess she is.
Fuck.
The pool lights dance across her glowing skin, casting shadows across her round ass and hourglass figure.
From this position, I can see the lips of her pussy and the sides of her breasts before she fully turns to face me, her arm clasped around them.
I smile, loving the way she’s still shy around me.
“I never got around to ordering a bathing suit online,” she confesses, a blush creeping into her cheeks.
I cock my head, watching her up and down. “Sweetheart?”
“Y-Yes?”
“Sit down.”
She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, obeying, slowly dipping her feet into the warm water as her naked ass makes contact with the edge of the pool. Her creamy thighs clamp together, keeping her pussy mostly concealed as she looks down at me with those big chocolate eyes.
“What were you doing here so late?” she asks.
Ignoring her question, I wrap my hands around her legs, sliding up until I reach her thighs and gently pry them apart.
Her breathing hikes, and the scent of her slightly damp, aroused pussy makes me groan.
If I were a better man, I’d let her rest and fuck my fist tonight, but I’ve never claimed to be anything other than a villain.
It’s what I was wary of in the first place, before I set myself loose and claimed her for the very first time. This is the consequence.
“Mikhail…” she whimpers.
But here she is, with her cunt spread before my eyes, all plump, trimmed, and needy. If this is too much for her, she knows to give me her safe word. I don’t concern myself with overthinking it.
I take her small hand in mine. It’s frail and soft, which lets me position it where I want.
“W-what are you doing?”
Bringing her palm against her open pussy, I press her middle finger into her opening until her cunt swallows the tip.
A faint moan escapes her pretty lips, and I push it deeper, inch by inch, until she’s in up to her knuckle.
Then, I simply take my hands off her, watching her sit prettily with her finger in her pussy.
“You look so fucking beautiful right now,” I murmur. “I wish you could see yourself.”
Shame flashes in her wanton eyes, and her chest expands with heavier breaths, pushing her breasts forward, her nipples hard.
“Do you remember your safe word?”
She nods.
“Tell me.”
“M-malachite,” she says, her gaze returning to mine.
Good fucking girl.
“I won’t coddle you, Cecilia. You gave me permission to use this beautiful body the way I like. You told me not to treat you like you’re made of glass. But if you want me to stop, you say that word, and I’ll be back to bringing you smoothies if that’s what you’d like. Understood?”
Her finger twitches inside her pussy, drawing my eyes there. She wants to fuck herself, I can tell, but she’s too sweet and ashamed to do it without being told.
“Go on. Touch it a little,” I command her.
“I—I can’t. Not with you watching so closely. I—”
“Especially with me watching so closely. I said touch your cunt for me, sweetheart.”
The second she slides that finger out, she whimpers, her eyes fluttering closed. She stops with the tip still inside her, and I gently push it back all the way, keeping my hand on top of hers.
“Again,” I tell her.
And she does it, this time without my help.
Her moans continue, albeit hesitant and restrained. But the more she repeats the action—the more she fucks herself—the harder it gets to control her reactions. The more she loses herself in the action, forgetting about the rest.
Watching her do it, sweet, angelic, and ashamed, makes my cock grow to an impossible length. Pain squeezes my tight balls, and I perch my hands on either side of her body, itching to pull her into the water with me. I know she’d be wet enough to take me easily.
“So fucking perfect. Well done. Now, let your husband give you some cum.”
I pull her into my arms, ignoring the throb in my shoulder.
The water splashes from the impact, making trickling noises as she comes down face to face with me.
I hold her by the ass, her legs wrapped around me, her arms circling my neck.
With one hand, I pull out my cock and position it at her slippery entrance before lowering her on my length.
“Oh, God. Mikhail, I—I...” she mumbles, lowering her forehead to my shoulder as I thrust into her.
Waves form all around us, blue shadows stretching across the walls. Our breaths sync. I fuck her hard and fast, digging my fingers into that soft ass, spreading her open as much as I can. And she lets me.
Her pussy swallows every thrust of my cock—warm and tight, like it’s her first time.
My fingers skitter up to her asshole, and I probe her a little.
It makes her chest rattle with an unexpected groan.
I can’t help but smile at how easy she is to read.
Something about having her ass touched really turns her on, and I’m more than happy to indulge her.
“I’m going to come—” she mewls, and her pussy clenches around me mid-sentence.
I fuck her through it, slow and deep, murmuring praise into her ear. Her nails dig into my back as she cries out, her head dropping back until her short hair touches the water. I kiss her neck, grunting, my cock pumping cum deep, painting those soft walls.
When I look at her, her eyelashes are twisted shut from tears, her cheeks wet. I stroke them with my knuckles, her pussy clamping down on me hard, choking on the amount of cum filling her up.
“Hold on to me,” I say, not sliding out of her yet. “I want to stay inside you for a while longer.”
“Y-yes. Please, stay. Don’t leave me.”
I push a lock of hair behind her ear. “Never, sweetheart.”
Later, when I wake up with my wife in my arms upstairs, the sky is still dark. My phone vibrates on my nightstand, and I turn to pick it up. It’s Maksim—at five in the morning, no less.
My pulse hikes, my impatience running thin.
I look at a sleeping Cecilia, gently repositioning her so I can get up without waking her.
Then, after I leave the bedroom door open, like every night since I found her up on that window frame, my finger hovers above that green icon on my screen as I make my way to the office a few rooms down.
I tap it before I even get inside.
“Took you fucking long enough,” I snap.
“My apologies, but I think you’ll be glad I took my time. What I found out wasn’t meant to be discovered—the woman sure knows how to cover her tracks.”
My ears perk up. I open my laptop, a file waiting for me in my email.
I flip through the pages, my eyes racing through the lines even though it’s hard to absorb anything at this speed.
But there’s rage there, flickering behind every shift of my pupils, a rage that builds and builds like a ball of fire.
My sweet wife is suffering, and the bits and pieces of what I’m seeing here are enough to make me want to set the fucking world on fire.
“This is everything?” I mutter, gripping the phone tight at my ear.
“Yeah. Start from the beginning. It gets crazier with every page.”