CHAPTER 20
LEAH
Mikhail’s phone has been buzzing for what seems like the one-hundredth time in the last two hours. Between Ann and Rodri calling nonstop, I’m slowly losing it. Mikhail’s words about my brother still resonate, and as much as it pains me, I know his advice is sound. While Ann has always had a fractured relationship with our father, she’s close to Mom, who is as loyal to her husband as they come, no matter what.
It’s not something I’m prepared to deal with, especially after I’ve had time to let it all sink in.
Mikhail raps twice on the bathroom door before pushing it open. “Pizza is here.”
I grab my sleep shorts from the vanity, but he snatches them. “What are you doing?” I ask with a suspicious grin.
“You don’t need them.” He cocks his head, eyes falling to my black panties. “I like those better.” Leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms over his bare chest, he says, “Turn around.”
“Really?” I pretend to be offended, hands on my hips.
“The faster you show me my ass, the sooner you get to eat, pretty girl. I’m just trying to see what’s on the menu for dessert.”
A smile curves my lips as I lift my shirt and do as I’m told. I’m not wearing a thong, but they’re plenty cheeky, nonetheless.
“Nah,” Mikhail says, shaking his head in disapproval.
“Mikhail!” I shriek, slightly offended. “Listen, this is a great ass, okay? Someone clearly does not want dessert.”
He barks a laugh and lunges for me, hauling me on his waist, a hand on each cheek. “Perfect...if it wasn’t missing my handprints.”
“I’m surprised they’ve faded. You have some big fucking hands, Mikki,” I tease, leaning in for a kiss when his phone vibrates in his pocket.
He pulls out the device and blocks every number associated with my family. “Are you okay?” he asks as he kisses my forehead.
I sigh and gently scratch the back of his nape, reveling in how his features relax with my touch. “Yeah, I am. The world and all its shit can wait. We need to have our game faces on and get through tomorrow first. For now, the only thing I want is pizza and your cock. Simple.”
“Good, because I’m craving the same.”
“Pizza and cock?”
Leaving his phone behind, he laughs and bites my earlobe as we make our way to the
kitchen. “I’m definitely reddening that ass tonight.” “Don’t make me beg,” I murmur against his mouth. “That’s the best part.”
“Oh?” I say, peppering kisses up his jaw.
“ Moya krasivitsa, you begging on your knees to suck my cock and on all fours begging to get fucked...” He sucks in a sharp breath. “I promise you, I have never seen anything more beautiful.”
I kiss him hard, and my worries melt away with every stroke of his tongue, nip of his teeth, and the way he tastes so damn good. He’s my safe space, where nothing can touch me as long as I’m in his arms.
“What kind of pizza did you order?”
Mikhail deposits me on the counter next to the pizza box and throws it open. “Your favorite: Hawaiian.”
“Baby, you hate pineapple on your pizza.” I giggle, recalling the day I made him taste it for the first time.
“ Eto chertova tragediya .” (It’s a goddamn tragedy.)
I tip my head back and burst into another bout of laughter. “Well, now I feel bad.”
“You should!” he jokes, bringing a slice to my mouth. I take an exaggerated bite and melted cheese stretches, breaking off against my chin. Luckily for me, the pizza isn’t piping hot. Twinkling suddenly catch my eye from the balcony of Mikhail’s condo, where multi-colored Christmas lights are wrapped along the railing.
“Your balcony is festive. Did you put those up?”
“No, I have someone who cleans this place for me: Caroline. She always decorates according to the season when she knows I’ll be in town. Says it’s for morale, whatever that hell means.”
“I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the brooding, if-looks-could-kill expression that lives on your handsome face.”
He chucks a piece of pineapple at me, and I pluck it off my t-shirt with a laugh and pop it into my mouth.
“ Ty khochesh’ byt’ nakazannym segodnya vecherom, ne tak li ?” (You want to get punished tonight, don’t you?)
Without waiting for a response, Mikhail snatches me off the counter, pizza in hand, and tosses me onto the sofa.
“You said pizza and cock, pretty girl, but never specified in what order.”
Shoving my shirt up over my breasts, my words disintegrate when he bites down on a nipple and rolls the other between his fingers. I indulge in his touch, lip between my teeth with every flick of his tongue and how his hard body presses against my pussy. But I told him I wanted his cock, and I wasn’t lying.
I roll us over, and we tumble off the couch in a heap of laughter. Throwing my leg over him, I straddle his torso and lean down to lick where my nickname is inked on his chest.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” I say, kissing down the toned lines of his stomach, past his navel, and biting the waistband of his sweatpants where his dick rages to break out.
Mikhail grins and folds his arms behind his head. “Please, jog my memory.”
As I pull at his pants, his cock springs free. There’s a moment of hesitation as I drink in the sight of him and think to myself that the science behind how this particular organ fits inside my body is something to be studied.
Biting my lip in anticipation, I dip to his thigh and brush against his skin. He tenses, waiting for me to make contact, but I choose to have a little fun first.
A trail of soft kisses toward his groin sees him closing his eyes and cursing under his breath. But just as I’m about to graze his pulsing erection, I switch and press my lips to the opposite inner thigh.
“Leah, my cock ain’t gonna suck itself.”
“Leah? I thought we were past that, Mikki. You better ask nicer than that,” I tease with a grin, swiping the precum off his tip and dipping my tongue, fiending for more.
In a flash, Mikhail fists my hair, the sting ripping a gasp from my chest as he pulls me closer while also grasping his dick and using it to slap me hard against the cheek.
“Mikhail!” I half-chuckle and whine. But my protest earns me another cock slap.
Fuck.
The impact vibrates through me, down to my throbbing pussy, making my entire body hum.
Without a moment to recover, he slams me over his dick and pushes to the back of my throat. I gag at the massive intrusion, and it only spurs him on.
“It’s like you’re singing a song for me, moya lyubov ’,” he says, guiding my movements and pumping his hips. Through the haze of tears, I see my ruined slice of dinner overturned on the carpet beside us.
Tragic pizza can wait.