Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rodion
Kissing Z’s shoulder, I ease myself from him and smile.
I’ve needed that release for days. After turning the shower back on us and bumping up the heat, I spurt the body wash into my hand and wash myself and then him, enjoying the hard planes of his body.
His broad chest flexes under my touch and I move to wash over the ridges of his eight pack.
My focus darts to Alyona’s blonde hair swaying as she exits the bathroom.
“That was mean,” Z reprimands. “Not letting her have pleasure like that.”
“She needs to heal, not split her wound back open with an orgasm. It’s finally healed over.” My tone is bitter even to my own ears.
It nearly broke me, forbidding her a release from Z’s lips.
To watch him eat her out on the counter would have been enough to make me come, but this nagging voice inside me didn’t want her to enjoy him just yet.
She hurt him so fucking bad when she left.
Living with her these past weeks has been effortless, like a river flowing with the current and the biggest blue ball tease I’ve ever endured.
Getting to know her as a mother, and being around her just doing the mundane things families do, made me realize how much I wanted this with her back then.
And then she was gone. And I had to question if I’d dreamed her.
“I doubt she’d mind. We do give the best orgasms.” Z licks his lips and groans when I clean down his cock.
“Indeed, we do,” I murmur, rinsing us both off.
Stepping out of the shower, I grab myself a towel and throw one at Z.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he offers, and I tense.
“Talk about what?” I ask defensively before drying myself off and wrapping the towel around my waist.
“About why you wouldn’t let her really come.”
“Like I said…”
I step out of the room, a heaviness pushing down on my chest. I don't want to admit that the thought of exposing our vulnerabilities again leaves me shackled with unease. We took every ounce of strength to pull ourselves out of the dark abyss she left us in when she walked away. Her absence was a hailstorm that left us battered and bruised. I can’t help but wonder if we have the resilience to face that storm a second time.
The memories of what she did still linger, like a scar, reminding me that diving back into those depths could drown us all.
She didn’t choose to be here with us, circumstances drove her to us.
“Nothing could break us, Ro. I won’t let her leave us again,” he insists, reading my mind and following me down the hall to the master bedroom.
If I’m truthful with myself, I know I won’t let her leave us again either.
I’ll chain her to my fucking wrist, if need be, but I want her to want us—to feel a fragment of what we do for her. To choose us.
I get dressed in silence next to Z, thankful that the rest of our belongings made it over here.
Though we’ve been sharing Alyona’s bed at night, we took the master bedroom for ourselves for when we need a place to retreat to.
The humid air clings uncomfortably to my skin, prompting me to forgo a jacket and tie.
Instead, I reach for a darker, fitted shirt and roll the sleeves up to my forearms, feeling more at ease.
Slipping into tailored slacks, I glance at myself in the mirror, trying to appear composed when I feel anything but.
Z breaks the silence, casually adjusting his watch as he secures it around his wrist. The strap complements his leather boots, a subtle detail that matches his meticulous style. “I believe her when she says she ran for the right reasons,” he remarks, his tone sympathetic.
I know she believes that. But it wasn’t the right thing to do, and as soon as she found out she was pregnant, she should have come home to us.
“You’re wearing that?” I ask him, shifting the focus away from the Alyona conversation.
He flinches ever so slightly, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but he quickly masks it with confidence.
“I look amazing,” he insists, and I can’t help but admire him because he truly does.
He’s dressed in light denim jeans that hug his muscular thighs and ass just right and a cream sweater that drapes effortlessly over his form.
The fabric is airy and delicate, sent straight from the runway after we gave the designer a night she can’t seem to forget.
Clothes like these are a regular gift from her.
He wears nothing beneath, and it makes me jealous of the fabric. I brush my palms over his shoulders admiring the muscle flexing beneath my touch. “You look delectable. But Roza is going to mess that cream fabric the first chance she gets.”
Her food covered handprints get on everything.
“I’ll wear the stains with pride,” he assures me, bringing my forehead to his lips. “Please try with Alyona.”
“I am.” I exhale, closing my eyes. I am.
“Come on, let’s eat,” he urges, glancing at the door.
“I already have,” I tease, a playful smile dancing on my lips.
He flashes me a grin, his eyes sparking like the devil’s. “Don’t make me undress us both again. It’s really counterproductive.” His tone is light but suggestive.
“Mmmm, later then,” I promise, savoring the moment and the playful tension.
Roza is sitting in her highchair in front of the TV watching blobs of color teach her the alphabet while she playfully smacks her spoon against her bowl in the dining area.
Alyona, who’s now in the kitchen and sipping a mug of coffee, has changed into skintight jeans, long knee-length boots, and a clingy, too fucking clingy, top that outlines the round fullness of her tits.
Her hair is loose, falling down her back.
She’s applied a smudge of black under her eyes and colored her lips with a pink tinge.
This is the most she’s looked like herself since we reunited. It’s distracting as fuck.
“The bulb needs to be changed.” She flits her eyes up to the hanging fixture above her head that’s flickering.
“I’ll fix the bulb later,” Z tells her, taking a slice of apple from a bowl on the counter and biting into it. “You look good.”
“So do you.” She eyes him over the rim of her mug, pursing her lips to blow on the contents to cool it.
“Did you enjoy the show this morning?” he croons, sidling right up to her. He grasps her hair into his fist, moves it over her shoulder, and nips her neck. He’s been this way with her since we moved in. Touchy-feely, but not taking it further.
“It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve experienced you both fucking me, so…” she quips, lifting a shoulder.
I almost drop the coffee pot I’ve just picked up.
“Mmmm.” Z moans into her neck. “I wanted to eat your cunt until you screamed.”
“Oh my God," she whines, placing her mug on the counter.
I bite my lip to stop from laughing at her neediness and his crass tongue at breakfast.
“I felt alive again in all this mayhem and pain,” she breathes, closing her eyes to enjoy his lips against her neck.
“Are you rhyming?” I ask and Z barks out a laugh straight from his gut, moving away from her to cover his mouth. “Someone’s been watching too much toddler TV.”
“I wasn’t rhyming, asshole.” She glares at me as she picks up a carton of milk and opens the fridge to put it away.
“I think she’s mad, Z.” I raise a brow, smirking into the coffee I’ve just poured.
“I think she’s frustrated.” He scoffs, reaching for her. “And he’s just messing with you, love.” He assures her, like he’s placating a child.
He’s already gone, completely captivated by her. She possesses a power over him that she doesn’t even realize she wields. Normally, Z possesses a will of steel. Yet, in her presence, he becomes like an addict, lost in the haze of his obsession, with no desire to get clean.
“You're being a jerk, Rodion,” she exclaims, her frustration evident as she huffs and slams the fridge door shut with a loud thud. Turning on her heel, she storms into the other room.
Z looks up at me, his lower lip protruding in a pout, eyes filled with disappointment. I rub my brow, feeling the tension building in my temples as I try to steady my thoughts.
“Fine,” I say, throwing my hands up in defeat. “I’ll go make her come. Happy?”
“Can I help?” he asks.
“No.”
“Then no, I’m not happy.”
Marching after her, I plan to strip her bare and make her so weak from orgasms she has no choice but to not run because she fucking can’t.
When I reach the living room, she is wearing a hole in the rug with her pacing.
I open my mouth as she does and we both pause.
“You go,” I grunt, placing my hands on my hips as I watch her.
“Listen. Things got a little crazy this morning and of course there’s going to be this.
” She flaps her hand between us. “Tension, chemistry, between us all. It’s normal, natural.
” She shakes her head vigorously as she walks back and forth, her thoughts clearly racing.
“But you’re right,” she finally says, stopping in front of me, her eyes locked onto mine with a mix of determination and uncertainty.
“We shouldn’t blur the lines just for gratification.
” She nods as though mentally proving the case to herself.
“Things are different now.” She glances thoughtfully at the dining room behind me.
“We have Roza, and considering our complicated history, it might become confusing.”
“Confusing?” I echo, incredulous at her words. “What do you mean by that? Are you suggesting that we might start believing you actually care about us and not want to just use us for fucking before you fuck off again?”
The weight of the past hangs around my feet like a cement block dragging me to the bottom of the ocean. My chest throbs with the uncomfortable reminder of the twisted emotions I still need to work through.
She blanches, her eyes widening in shock as if I’ve just struck her. “Is that what you truly believe?” Her voice trembles, revealing I'm not the only one mixed up in my emotions.
I take a deep breath, the air heavy, and run a trembling hand down my face. My fingers brushing against stubble that has grown in over the past couple of days.
“I’m not sure, Alyona, since that is exactly what you did,” I reply, my voice strained and low as I draw my gaze away from her.
A simmering tension bristles through the room, wrapping around me, suffocating.
I feel like a caged animal, my heart pounding in my chest. I have to fight the urge to escape.
I don’t want her to see just how raw I still am.
“Look at me,” she barks, her fingers clasping my wrist.
I dip my face to hers, shocked at her closeness. I hadn’t even heard her move.
“We can’t go on like this. I need you to hear me, both of you.” Her eyes move to the figure standing at my back. I knew he wouldn’t leave us alone for long. He senses my discomfort even from a room away.
“Alyona,” he growls her name in warning, afraid of what she might say.
“No, I need to say this.” She swallows hard and trembles.
“When I left, I was so deeply in love with both of you that it felt like a physical wound to my chest to walk away.” She places a hand to her ribcage.
“I’m not referring to fleeting lust or the giddy feeling of being infatuated.
I’m talking about a profound, bone-deep love that saturated every aspect of my being.
” Tears spring in her eyes and her words brush against me like a caress.
“You both transformed me during our time together, and those years apart only solidified my feelings rather than lessened them.”
She implores us with an earnest gaze, darting back and forth between us like we’re holding her life in the palm of our hands.
“This love is not something that can fade or weaken over time, it is enduring,” she continues, voice raw and filled with pain.
“Real love isn’t something you can see or touch.
It exists in the moments between breaths.
Weaving itself into the fabric of your being without your consent.
Burrowing into the essence of your soul without restraint.
It’s uncontrollable and harsh, like a fire sweeping across the landscape of your world and consuming it.
It takes hold of you, reshapes you, owns you.
You owned me.” Her eyes move between us, a tear escaping down her cheek.
My lungs have seized. “And I knew that if anything were to happen to either of you, it wouldn’t just hurt, it would shatter me completely, destroy the very core of me.
I couldn’t fucking bear it.” Her voice breaks.
“So don’t ever assume I only wanted to fuck the Madmen of Moscow, because if you’re being truthful with yourself, Ro, you know I could have done that anytime. ”
I inhale air into my starved lungs, a warm sensation trickling into my bones and spreading awareness to the dormant corners of my heart that’s been shrouded in ice for two fucking years. Z’s hand slips into mine, his touch burning like the faint lick of a flame.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but what the fuck do I say to that? She’s left me speechless. She loves us too. It wasn’t just us feeling that way.
Suddenly, her phone shrills loudly through the room, cutting the tension. I clear my throat, trying to steady my voice. “Leave it,” I urge, feeling the fragility of this moment.
Taking a deep breath, she inhales shakily, her eyes glistening as she wipes the tears from her cheeks. “It might be important,” she says, her voice trembling. I reach out and clasp her wrist, trying to keep her from slipping away, but I struggle to respond, and she tugs free and walks away.
This conversation is not over.