Chapter 10 Mikail #2
I should have gone to bed. It’s the exhaustion of yet another sleepless night that pushes me to act this damn irrationally. Continuing like this will ensure that I run out of excuses.
Fuck it.
Keeping eye contact, I go for another taste, incapable of resisting my sole addiction.
Her eyes widen into two glazed over emeralds. “I must be dreaming.”
“Does this feel like a dream?” I spear my tongue into her slit, and she grips the sheet, arching her back up.
Squeezing her ass cheeks, she hisses, but I do it on purpose to make her see what happens if she oversteps.
Nibbling on her clit, she moans so loud, I shove two thick digits in her mouth to silence her. She begins sucking as if my fingers are a pacifier. Good God, the chances of coming in my damn pants increase with each encounter.
“Shhh, baby girl.”
She pierces me with an intense look. To show her who’s in charge, I thrust my fingers deeper, but she doesn’t gag, sending my mind spiraling with the possibilities of testing that with my cock.
Smirking, I continue eating her, feasting on sweet ambrosia. She gushes so much wetness that it coats my chin and the sheets, leaking toward her other hole.
I trace her puckered asshole, needing to claim everything, mark her from the inside out. She shoots out of the bed, but I push her back down, sliding my fingers down the valley of her breasts.
“Every hole of yours is mine. And I can do whatever the fuck I want to each,” I say hoarsely, barely restraining myself.
She flops on her back as if accepting her destiny.
My woman has a theatrical bone, amusing me.
Ease spreads through me, making me feel content like never before.
With my thumb in her ass, two fingers in her pussy, and my lips sucking on her clit, she turns into a whimpering, shaky mess.
It doesn’t take her long to erupt, crying out my name.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, panting.
I arch an arrogant brow. “More like ‘oh my Mika’ in your case, as I did all the work.”
She giggles, the sound divine as she caresses my cheek. “Thank you so much for your service, good sir.”
I can’t abstain from chuckling. No wonder I started laughing again once I had some alone time with her.
“How is your ass?” I ask as I caress the round cheeks.
Her brows furrow. “Sore. Sensitive.”
A sound of pure satisfaction rumbles in my throat. “Good.”
“Good?” she asks, voice thick with incredulity.
“Brats get punished,” I say moving closer to her.
She drags her bottom lip through her teeth, a shy look painting her expression. “But will they be kissed? Will they be fucked?”
“Dahlia…”
It’s not that I don’t want to, but I have already crossed any decency boundary.
She tilts her head, doubt pulling down at the corners of her mouth. “We did it all backward, didn’t we?”
I squeeze my eyes closed, the memory of those days is never far from my thoughts. Just like the haze of blood and violence I got lost in afterward.
“I’m sorry for always pushing you,” she says, sounding genuine, breaking my damn heart that she believes that.
Her frustration is justified. I was the one comfortable living a total lie—ignoring our connection, burying the secrets while sharing this unbreakable bond, but never crossing the line. Emotionally, we’ve been together since then.
I was afraid to push her, but while I was too busy thinking of the damage I’d caused, I failed to realize we were together in that shit. We survived together. Trauma might have bonded us, but we were always meant to be together.
Pushing herself off the bed, her arms wrap around me, and she places her cheek on my chest. For a few minutes, we lie in comfortable silence as if recharging, plugged into our connection.
She sits cross-legged in front of me, fidgeting with her hands on her lap. “At times, I think you want to hate me. It would be easier.”
Her eyes shine with raw heartbreak that fucking kills me.
Leaning in to her, I kiss the top of her head, caressing down her back. “I would rather cut my heart out than give you that impression. Baby girl, I could never hate you. I never liked easy.”
“Enzo would never understand,” she sighs.
I place my hand over hers, both of hers fitting in my larger one. “I don’t want this life for you.”
“But you don’t want a life when I’m not in yours either. I know it’s convenient, and it has worked out. I simply can’t anymore.” She sounds apologetic, but her gaze brims with impatience.
Dipping my chin, I kiss the tip of her nose. “I know.” Her eyelids. “You deserve the world.” Then, I brush my lips along her cheek.
“You’re my world, Mika. And you would literally buy me the world if I wanted it.”
“Do you want it?” I ask, seriousness etched in my tone.
I always thought buying her everything she glanced at would show her how invested I am.
“You can’t buy what I want.” She pouts. “You can only gift it to me.”
My fucking heart. That black hunk of junk that’s only purpose is to serve her already belongs to her.
“Go to bed,” she orders.
I pin her with a stare that only makes her giggle.
“You’re awake. I doubt I can sleep not knowing what you’re up to,” I groan, accepting my fate. A servant. For her.
She grins, revealing that’s the most fun part of her day. “Shooting.”
I swear, she loves to torture me.
“Calla is not here.” Because my dear sister is all for her learning to fight, defend, and shoot.
There’s no one safer than she is. The length I went to make sure something like that never happens again—from the tracking chip implanted in her arm, to my men who patrol the perimeter day and night and follow her every step. Dahlia might as well be the most protected person in the world.
“I know the basics. My aim still needs improvement.” She flops on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
I wiggle my brows at her, wishing to make her smile. “Why? Do you want to make sure you hit me when I drive you mad?”
A radiant smile lights up her face. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I still haven’t forgotten your stunt. For that alone, I should spank your ass red again.” The threat ringing in my hoarse voice only makes me burn hotter for her.
I thought I would have a heart attack when she had Calla shoot the necklace dangling from her hand.
Scooting on her ass, she tilts her head. “I wanted to make my stubborn brother see what was in his face.”
I find her hand on the mattress. “Don’t do that again.”
She latches her fingers around mine. “That’s because you trust no one. Not even your sister, who is the best freaking sniper.”
I arch a brow.
She shrugs. “But you’re the second best.”
This woman. I swear. I push her onto her back and attack her, my fingers tickling her everywhere.
“I’ll show you second best,” I grumble.
Her giggles and snorts fill my ears as she tries to evade my touch. Her body twitches, thrashing and kicking her feet in the air. “Mika,” she says through a fit of giggles. “No. No. No.”
She looks adorable, flushed and rocking with laughter. She’s so damn soft. Precious.
This carefree moment is so potent that it traps me in images of a bright future.
I cup my ear. “What was that?”
“I can take it back, but it would be a lie,” she pants, folding onto her side as if that’s an option to escape me.
“I’ll pee my pants,” she screeches as I easily find an opening to her armpits.
“Would be a valid lesson not to make fun of me,” I deadpan.
“Mika, please.”
Her pleas will be the death of me. I stop, dropping onto my back, and she sprawls half on my chest.
As she caresses my chest, I close my eyes, saying, “Let me sleep for a bit and then we can train that aim of yours.”
She squeals, and just knowing I can make her happy expands my chest. I love her music, but I fucking live to hear those joyful sounds she emits.
“I want to go on a picnic,” she suggests.
“Sure. Whatever you want,” I say, my voice groggy with tiredness.
Our eyes lock.
“You’re the best man.”
No, I am not. But to let someone else have her is unfathomable. That’s not what a good man would do, but a selfish one.
“Trying for you,” I rasp, sleep dragging me further into its seductive pull.
She whispers in my ear, “I’ll always take you as you are. You’re safe with me.”
I smile in her hair. “That’s my line, malishka.”