EPILOGUE
Zoya
I’m so close.
My fingers twist in the sheets, my back arching off the bed as Alexei’s tongue drags slow circles around my clit. His hand wraps around himself, stroking in time with the rhythm of his mouth. The sound he makes—so desperate—sends a fresh wave of heat straight through me.
He’s been starving for this for weeks.
I cut him off after he tried to fuck me during a study session.
I didn’t have time for any of that with exams around the corner, but he came up behind me talking about how he wanted to make me forget my own name and how it had been way too long, giving me the whole routine. I told him, “Alexei, I need to study.”
“You can study after.” He kissed my neck.
“No. I have exams in two days.”
“Then I’ll be quick.” He was already removing his belt. I could hear the buckle clink.
“No.”
He didn’t listen, so I shoved him off and grabbed my books before laying down the new rule: no penetration until after finals were over.
He could use his mouth on me if I felt like allowing it, but his dick was staying out of me because I was this close to graduating and he wasn’t going to mess that up for me.
He looked at me like I’d just declared war.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes, Alexei. I am serious. You can’t keep doing this.”
“This is ridiculous, Zoya—”
“I’m not getting pregnant again. Not during finals. I don’t want to get sick in the mornings. You know how it was last time.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then he did something I didn’t expect. He dropped to his knees.
“Fine,” he said. “But I’m still tasting you.”
And he has been going down on me every single night since then, sometimes in the morning before class, and one time in his office when I stopped by with food. He’s absolutely obsessed.
Right now, he’s two fingers deep inside me, curling them just right while his tongue works me over. I’m so close I can barely breathe.
“Alexei—”
“I know.” His voice is rough. “I can feel it. You’re so fucking tight, solnyshko.”
I whimper, my hips rolling against his mouth. He groans, his hand moving faster on himself. He’s close too. I can tell by the way his breathing hitches, the way his fingers dig into my thigh.
Just a little more—
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
I jolt upright so quickly I nearly nail Alexei in the face with my knee.
He freezes mid-stroke, and when his eyes lock on mine I see nothing but rage.
“Mommy!” Yuri’s voice gets louder, practically right outside the door now. “You forgot! My playdate with Misha starts soon and Auntie Anya is coming to pick me up, so we need to get ready!”
Fuck.
I scramble off the bed, grabbing my robe from the chair and tying it as fast as my shaking hands will allow. Alexei sits back on his heels, hard and pissed off, dropping his hand away from himself like someone just walked in on him.
“One second, baby!” I call out, my voice too high.
The door swings open.
Yuri stands there in his dinosaur pajamas, brown curls sticking up in every direction. His hazel eyes—too much like his father’s—fix on me with concern.
“Mommy, what happened?” He steps closer, tilting his head. “Are you okay? You’re sweating.”
I pull the robe tighter around myself. “Yes, baby. I’m fine. Can you give me a moment?”
“But what happened?” He frowns, studying me. “Are you okay? You’re sweating pretty badly.”
“It’s just really hot in here.”
“Mommy, it’s not really hot.” He walks over to the window, pressing his hand against the glass. “It’s cold. Why are you sweating?”
This kid.
I love him. I love him so much it hurts. But right now I want to ship him off to his grandparents for a week.
He’s far too smart and far too curious, turning every answer into another question and never letting anything go without understanding it completely.
I crouch down and pull him into my arms, kissing the top of his head. “You’re always so smart, aren’t you?”
He beams. “The teacher says I ask the best questions.”
“I’m sure she does.” I smooth his hair down. “Why don’t you go find Thea and tell her to get your clothes ready for your playdate? Tell her you need to look very handsome for Misha.”
His face lights up. “Okay!” He turns to run, then pauses, glancing over at Alexei. “Papa looks weird.”
I look back at Alexei who’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his forearms resting on his knees, staring at our son like he’s running through every possible method of making a child vanish.
“Your papa is fine,” I say quickly. “Go on.”
Yuri runs off, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
I shut the door and lean against it, exhaling.
I turn around to find Alexei moving toward me, backing me up against the door with his hand planted beside my head and the other slipping under my robe to grab my hip.
“That,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing my ear, “is the third time this week.”
“He’s three. He doesn’t understand—”
“He understands that every time he interrupts, I don’t get to finish.” His grip tightens. “You owe me, solnyshko.”
“After my exam,” I whisper. “I promise.”
He bites down on my neck, just hard enough to make me gasp. “You better keep that promise.”
“I will.”
“Good.” He steps back, eyes black with need. “Because when that exam is over, I’m locking you in a room with me and not letting you out until I’ve fucked every coherent thought out of your head.”
Heat pools low in my belly. “Alexei—”
“Go get ready.” He steps back, adjusting himself with a wince. “Before I change my mind and lock the door.”
The park is busier than I expected.
Families spread across the grass. Kids run toward the playground. A few joggers pass by on the path. Anya and I sit on a bench near the swings, watching Yuri and Misha chase each other around the slide.
I spot Taras standing near the trees with Alexei. Both of them have their phones out, deep in conversation. Whatever they’re discussing looks serious. Taras gestures with one hand while Alexei’s posture remains tense.
“How’s the panic level?” Anya asks with a knowing smile.
“Through the roof,” I admit, “but I’m so close to being done I can taste it.”
She laughs. “I still can’t believe you did all this with Yuri running around, that’s insane.”
“Tell me about it.”
Yuri makes it to the top of the slide and starts waving at me with both hands, so I wave back with a smile.
“He’s gotten so big,” Anya says. “I remember when you first brought him here. He could barely walk.”
“I know.” My chest tightens. “Sometimes I look at him and I can’t believe he’s mine.”
“You’re a good mom, Zoya.”
“I’m trying.”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’re doing more than trying. You’re amazing. And I’m so sorry I missed his birth. I wanted to be there for you.”
“Anya, you don’t have to keep apologizing—”
“I do, though.” Her expression softens. “You were pregnant and dealing with everything alone and I just disappeared. My mom died and I had to go back to Germany and everything fell apart. I stopped answering your calls. I stopped texting. I just couldn’t handle talking to anyone.”
“I know,” I say gently. “Taras told Alexei what happened. That’s the only way I knew you were okay. I wanted to reach out but Alexei said Taras thought you needed space.”
“I did need space,” she admits. “But I still feel terrible that I wasn’t there when you had Yuri. You needed me and I was in Germany dealing with my mom’s funeral and I just… I couldn’t be there.”
“Hey.” I squeeze her hand back. “You were grieving. You don’t have to apologize for that. What matters is that you’re here now.”
She smiles, her eyes a little wet. “Thank you.”
We sit in silence for a moment, watching the kids play.
My eyes drop to her stomach where there’s a noticeable curve that wasn’t there before. “How’s it going with baby number three?”
She groans and leans back against the bench. “Tired. I'm so tired. I love my kids, but…” She trails off.
“But what?”
“Sometimes I wish I had more of a choice, you know?” She looks down at her hands. “Taras has been getting me pregnant every year since we got married. This is my third baby in four years.”
“That’s a lot.”
“It is.” She sighs. “And Taras wants four or five total. He already mentioned trying for the next one after this baby comes.”
I stare at her. “Four or five?”
“I know.” She laughs, but it’s not bitter.
Just tired. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being his wife.
Taras has changed so much since we got together.
You remember how shy he used to be? He barely talked to anyone.
Now he’s so confident. He takes care of me and provides everything I need.
We live in this huge house and I don’t have to worry about money.
It’s not something I ever could have imagined back when I was dancing. ”
“But?”
She pauses, choosing her words. “It’s not a bad ‘but.’ It’s just different. Taras is very clear about what he wants. He wants me at home raising our kids. That’s it. Dancing is off the table. Working is off the table. He doesn’t even like when I go out alone.”
“Anya—”
“And before you say it, he doesn’t force me to do anything, especially in the bedroom where he always gives me a choice and checks in to make sure I’m comfortable with whatever’s happening. I’ve never once felt pressured or forced.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I think he keeps getting me pregnant because it’s his way of making sure I stay.
” She gestures at her belly. “Between being pregnant and recovering from pregnancy, there’s no way I could go back to dancing or return to my old life even if I wanted to.
I think that’s exactly what Taras intended when he pulled me out of that world, making sure I can never go back. ”
“Do you want to go back?”
She thinks about it for a long moment. “No, I really don’t miss it. Dancing was miserable, the men who showed up were worse, and faking smiles for them made me sick. What bothers me isn’t missing that life, it’s that I never got to choose this one—it just became the only thing available to me.”
I squeeze her hand. “Anya, listen to me. I’m going to talk to Taras.”
Her eyes widen. “What? No, you don’t have to—”