Chapter 18
The tsar slammed the door behind him as he parted. Anastasia stared after her father, shock written on her face. She nestled against Mikhail’s side, her arm around his waist in quiet disbelief.
“You just…,” she stared at the door, “You just told the tsar to fuck off.”
“I did,” Mikhail nodded. The adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, his chest heaving, and his muscles tense. He looked like a soldier ready to jump back into battle. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, ejected the rounds from the gun, and tossed the empty pistol on a chair.
Mikhail’s eyes drifted back to Anastasia, his gaze heavy.
He stepped away from her, his mind going a million miles a minute.
The atmosphere was tense; Anastasia could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Her mind was stuck in a loop of Mikhail’s admission, his declaration of love for her the only thing taking up presence in her mind. The rest of the world could go to hell.
Mikhail wiped his fingers against his jacket as if he could wipe away the memory of aiming a pistol as the tsar. The implications of that could wait. Anastasia admitted she loved him.
“Did you mean it?” Mikhail asked, his voice low. He bit his lip, looking more nervous than Anastasia had ever seen him. “Did you mean what you said?” His stare was hot; Anastasia thought she would burn under its intensity.
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t waver. “Did you?”
“Every word.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Anastasia,” Mikhail repeated, as easily as breathing.
A lingering silence lasted for one heartbeat, two, and then Anastasia crossed the distance between them.
She flung herself against him, her hands tangling in his hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She paused, studying his face, before leaning in to kiss him. Mikhail made a satisfied noise against her lips before picking her up.
Anastasia wrapped her legs around his waist. The embrace became desperate, their passions fed by everything that had gone unspoken between them.
The adrenaline from the confrontation is still coursing through their veins.
Anastasia couldn’t stop running her hands over him, tracing his arms and his shoulders, making sure he was honest and solid in front of her.
She squeaked in surprise when her back hit the wall, Mikhail pressing his body up against hers. It drowned out every other sensation in her body until all she could feel was heat. Taking advantage of her open mouth, Mikhail slipped his tongue against hers, deepening the kiss.
She tossed her head back, gasping for air, momentarily breaking the contact. Mikhail began trailing kisses down her neck. He held her up against the wall with one arm, and the other began rifling blindly for the edge of her skirts.
“Christ,” he grunted, finally gripping the edge of her hem and ripping. Anastasia laughed; the sound that made Mikhail look up and grin. His hand slid through the fabric until it met her calf, then slowly moved upward.
Anastasia captured his mouth again, her hands tugging on his hair like she was trying to close the nonexistent space between them. She relished the rasp of his stubble against her skin.
Mikhail’s hands moved at a glacial pace, leaving trails of goosebumps in his wake. He made his way up her leg, stroking her calves, to her thighs, until his fingers traced over her hip, narrowly avoiding where she needed him most.
She made a small cry of displeasure, bucking her hips against him. He only chuckled, biting her lip playfully.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided, “Don’t be greedy, Anya. Take what I give you.”
“Give me more.” There was no venom in her tone, only desperation, sending a line of fire down Mikhail’s spine. He grasped her waist tighter as she moved her hips, sliding over his cock in painfully slow strokes.
“Oh b’lyad,” he hissed, dropping his head down so their foreheads were touching, “You keep doing that, and this isn’t going to last very long.”
Anastasia let out a little laugh in response, slowing her hips. Mikhail’s hand traced back down her thigh until he cupped her sex, teasing a shattered moan from between Anastasia’s lips.
“You really need me to touch you, don’t you?” Mikhail chuckled, making Anastasia’s eyes nearly roll back into her head. “You’re drenched for me, malyshka…”
Mikhail gently rolled her clit between his fingers, watching Anastasia’s face, her breath breaking down into shallow gasps. She was practically dripping down his hand when he pulled her tighter and slipped his fingers inside her slowly.
“Mikhail,” Anastasia’s voice was a breathy whine, “Please…”
He only laughed in response, leaning in to bite her ear. “Say it again. Let me hear you say it.” Anastasia knew precisely what he wanted to hear.
“I love you, Mikhail,” she moaned, her whole body feeling like a live wire. Mikhail’s impossibly large frame was pressed against her in a million ways except for the one she wanted most.
“God,” he grunted, easily slipping another finger into her and beginning to curl them with a simple motion. Anastasia was unleashed, riding his fingers while they remained pinned against the wall. Her hand flew down to Mikhail’s wrist, and she stopped him, shaking her head.
“No, no, I want more, I want all of you. Now.” Mikhail grunted in response, gently pulling his hand from underneath her skirts and wrapping both of his arms around her waist. They stumbled into her bedroom, and Mikhail dropped Anastasia on the bed.
She ogled shamelessly as she maneuvered back against the headboard, her tongue running over her lip while Mikhail undressed at the foot of the mattress.
He tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, and Anastasia moaned quietly at the sight of his body, his muscles still tense and his skin damp with sweat.
He chuckled, a dark, purely masculine sound, and he leaned down and stepped out of his pants.
Anastasia squirmed on the bed at the sight of his cock, desperate to feel him inside of her.
Mikhail reached over and ripped the rest of her torn dress off, leaving her in a corset. Anastasia leaned forward, her breasts nearly spilling out of the top, as she unlaced the back with feverish fingers. Mikhail climbed onto the bed, grabbed the offending garment, and tossed it aside.
As soon as it was gone, Anastasia froze.
“Anya, what’s wrong?” Mikhail leaned away from her, wanting to give her space at that moment if she was unsure.
“I… my… my scars,” she said quietly, crossing her arms across her chest. Mikhail looked at her, stripped and vulnerable, and knew how difficult that was for her.
He nodded softly, holding out his hand to her.
When she slid her palm in his, he grinned, stroking his thumb over the scars on her knuckles.
“They’re beautiful, Anya,” his voice was slow and soothing as he nodded and placed her own scarred hand over the scars lacing his torso. “So are mine. So are yours. I promise.”
Anastasia nodded, a soft smile spreading over her face. She leaned back on the bed, stretching out her legs, so Mikhail was kneeling between them.
“Touch me, please,” Anastasia whined, the desperation returning to her voice as she relaxed entirely around him. Mikhail’s hands began to move up and down her sides ever so slowly.
When his hands reached her back, she tensed on instinct until his thumbs gently kneaded little circles into each muscle, feeling the ridge of each scar as she became putty in his hands. Her whole body shuddered underneath him as he trailed kisses up her chest and neck.
Mikhail’s hands moved down her legs, bringing them up and hooking them over his broad shoulders in one swift moment.
Anastasia moaned, his cock poised at her entrance. Mikhail could feel her heat radiating, and it took everything in him not to bury himself in her. He kissed her cheek gently, studying her face, not finding a single ounce of hesitation there.
“Mikhail,” Anastasia said again, staring up at him under heavily lidded, lust-filled eyes. “I love you.”
That was all it took to snap the last of his control. He pushed into her, Anastasia’s back arching off the bed in pleasure.
The feel of him made her eyes roll back into her head, enough to make her forget entirely how only his fingers had felt. He was thick and perfect. Anastasia felt like she could die at that moment as she adjusted to the breadth of him.
Mikhail began to thrust slowly, letting out an animalistic sound at the fullness and warmth of them together.
Their eyes met, and the low thrum of Anastasia’s magic began filling the room with every move, drenching them in soft, golden light.
Mikhail picked up speed until Anastasia’s hands were fisted in the sheets as she cried out. The encouraged him to start tracing slow circles over her clit.
“Anya,” he cursed under his breath, uttering the closest thing that he had ever said to a prayer. “Fuck, you feel incredible.”
“More, please, please, just more.” Anastasia’s voice kept breaking off as she gasped for air.
Mikhail gave her a devious smile as he lowered her legs and pulled out of her, causing Anastasia to cry out in frustration at the sudden loss of him.
He crawled up her body until he was on top of her, covering her from head to toe.
Mikhail cupped her face and kissed her again like a starving man, all tongue and biting. Anastasia threw her leg around his waist and pulled him towards her, indicating exactly where she wanted him. Mikhail chuckled, his hand gently cupping her breast until his fingers were pinching at her nipple.
“Mikhail—” Anastasia was cut off as Mikhail sheathed himself in her in one quick moment, making her moan out at the sudden feeling of him again.
He began rocking against her, her hips rising to meet his thrusts as his hand slid down from her breast to her clit, circling it and adding just enough pressure to make Anastasia writhe.
Anastasia’s hands tangled themselves in his hair, feeling for the cord that held it in its knot. She tugged at it, eliciting a groan from Mikhail before it snapped.
She sighed her approval, running her hands through the lengths as she used her grip on his hair to direct his mouth back to her breasts. He responded, sucking her nipple into his mouth before giving it a bite and switching to the other one.
Her orgasm snuck up on her, building from the moment that he touched her, and then suddenly releasing all at once. It was his name on her lips as she came, arching almost entirely off the bed.
Mikhail swore, feeling her clench all around him and hurtling him towards the edge.
His cock throbbed, spilling himself inside of her as she finished.
Sparks exploded from the lights around them as Anastasia’s magic swelled, showering them in golden flecks that disappeared as they hit the floor like snow.
His head fell to the crook of her neck, both gasping and reeling from the aftershocks. Their bodies were soaked in sweat, pressed together.
Mikhail stayed inside of her, with half a mind to linger there forever. He bit at the skin of her neck gently before running his tongue over it. Anastasia murmured something intelligible, a pleasant buzz settling into her limbs.
Mikhail chuckled before pulling out. Anastasia hissed lightly at the absence. He lay down next to her and tugged her to him, arranging them so his chest was to her back. His arms wrapped around her, unbothered by the sticky heat surrounding them.
“Not bad for a priest,” Anastasia grinned, turning over her shoulder to look up at Mikhail. He let out a laugh, a loud, genuine, carefree sound, before leaning down and kissing her once more.
“You can help me repent later. A few times more tonight, actually.” Anastasia smiled into the kiss, her hand stroking his jaw.
“I love you,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering as she started to doze.
“I know,” Mikhail nodded, pressing kisses over her face, “I love you, too.” They drifted off, the embers of Anastasia’s magic still glowing around the room.