Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
The cottage overlooking the sea was small. After escaping the Winter Palace, Anastasia didn’t want anything bigger. It was warm, perfectly fit for the two of them, and always had a pleasant breeze no matter the time of day.
Mikhail and Anastasia wasted no time leaving the city after the descent of madness around them. They would eventually return to Russia, but both felt they needed time and space away from St. Petersburg to heal.
The morning after their departure, Anastasia revealed a few small gems she had hidden in her clothes. They sold them and used the fare to book modest travel to Paris.
From Paris, they made their way to the coast, taking their time. As fate would have it, once they arrived in èze, someone had posted for a groundskeeper. The couple laughed at the surprising versatility of Mikhail’s work history at the monastery and applied immediately.
Most days, Mikhail stayed busy on the property while Anastasia helped wherever she could.
When there was nothing that Mikhail needed her assistance with, she’d go into town, developing a new reputation for helping people with small tasks and chores.
It was a humble existence, one that was lazy for the soul but not on the body.
On quiet mornings, Anastasia sat back with a smile on her face as the realization of their freedom settled into her bones. For the first time in a long time, no one was chasing them; no one wanted to hurt them or see them destroyed.
Before the fall of her family’s empire, she had spent every day looking over her shoulder—the absence of that feeling was exhilarating.
On this particular day, they all blissfully ran together in a kind of monotony that soothed them.
Anastasia found herself looking out the kitchen window, eyeing the path Mikhail took from the main house to the cottage.
As if she had willed it into being, some movement drew her eye, and he appeared from the tree line.
Anastasia ogled shamelessly, her stare already hot with anticipation. He caught her gaze from the window and started to laugh.
The sound drifted through the glass, bringing a smile to her face. These days, they were unabashed, an effect of the sea air and the euphoric feeling of having every possibility open to them now.
Mikhail slowed his gait purposefully, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head before tossing it to the ground.
“Oh, Christ,” Anastasia cursed under her breath in the kitchen.
This was a game they had played many times over, but one she would never grow tired of. He laced his fingers together, stretching his hands above his head, pulling the muscles in his arms and chest taut.
Anastasia moved away from the window and walked towards their bedroom to wait for him. She pulled off the shift she was wearing and, as she passed the front door, flicked her finger once and threw it open with magic.
She didn’t bother to make eye contact with Mikhail, feigning impassivity as she tossed the shift to the floor and disappeared into the bedroom.
Anastasia lay down on the bed and focused on the growing heat between her legs, sliding her fingers to her core and circling her clit lazily. She let her eyes flutter closed as her thoughts drifted to Mikhail.
He was only a minute behind her, slamming the front door closed and kicking off his pants as he went. He turned the corner to the bedroom, licking his lips when he saw her, waiting for him.
“Malyshka,” his voice was low, husky. “You couldn’t even wait for me, hm?” Anastasia bit her lip to keep the smirk off her face.
“You were taking too long,” her voice took on a playful tone. She bit back a small gasp as she slid a finger into herself, moving slowly against her own palm.
“Hands on the mattress.” He went to the side of the bed as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared at her.
He was already hard, Anastasia struggling to hold a disinterested look on her face and keep her eyes off him. She pretended she didn’t hear him, adding a second finger and canting her hips faster against her grip.
“Anya,” the command was thick in his voice, “Stop it. Now.”
Anastasia froze, her hands going to her sides as she cursed herself mentally for her response. It was the demand that did it, snapping Anastasia out of her reverie and pulling all her attention straight to Mikhail.
“Then touch me,” she whined, shifting her hips on the bed.
“I plan on it,” he growled. Before she knew it, he was on top of her, wrapping an arm around her waist and flipping her over on her stomach. Mikhail pulled Anastasia up until she was on all fours as he kneeled behind her.
“Are you always this naughty when I’m gone?” His voice was like gravel as his hand moved down her spine, leaving a fire in its wake. She felt each callous on his palm as he skirted around her waist, teasing and refusing to touch her where she needed it.
“Maybe,” Anastasia hissed, refusing to give up the game that easily, “Maybe I need it.” Mikhail chuckled, hearing the taunt in her voice. He kept moving his hands over her body, letting her talk. “If I wasn’t tired after — oh!”
Her voice was cut off in a sharp gasp as Mikhail’s hand made contact with her ass, spanking her once. He licked his lips, feeling himself get harder as he watched her pale skin flush red.
“Were you saying something, malyshka?” His voice was sweet and cloying as if he had no idea what cut her off. He brought his hand to her and slowly rubbed over her cheek.
“Please,” Anastasia’s body was on fire, now fighting against her basest urges as she rocked back against Mikhail.
“What was that?”
“Please!” Her voice was pleading, and Mikhail tutted in disapproval.
“How many times did you touch yourself without me?”
“What?” Anastasia’s voice was breathy and distracted. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his body almost pressed against hers from behind.
“I think you heard me.” She let out a sharp cry when Mikhail’s hand came down again on the same spot, the pain blossoming over to something else entirely. “How many times?”
“Three,” she gasped out, her head dropping to the mattress, “three times.” Mikhail’s laugh was dark in response.
“You’re almost there already, malyshka, isn’t that right?” He let his hand slide between her legs, cupping her sex and sliding a finger slowly around her entrance before removing it.
“Blyat,” he cursed, losing the grip on his control as he realized how this was affecting her, “You’re dripping.”
Anastasia whined in response, rocking her hips back to make her point. His cock slid in between her legs, and his hands went to her waist possessively.
“Do something,” Anastasia cried out, “For God’s sake.”
Mikhail leaned over, pressing his body against hers, covering her skin with his, as he bit at her ear, enveloping her completely with his massive frame. Anastasia felt like she was going to crawl out of her body, every sense overloaded with Mikhail, Mikhail, Mikhail…
“Honey,” his low voice in her ear sent shivers down Anastasia’s spine, “I think we both know God couldn’t fuck you like this.” Before she could even react, Mikhail spanked her ass hard and sheathed himself to the hilt inside of her.
“Fuck!” Anastasia screamed, bucking her back but unable to move, blissfully trapped under his bodyweight.
“Christ,” Mikhail grunted, one arm around her waist and the other supporting his weight, holding himself over her.
“You feel so fucking good, malyshka,” he groaned as he began moving in and out of her, relishing the vice grip she had on his cock.
His hand slipped down and started rubbing against her clit, making Anastasia’s eyes roll back into her head.
“Mikhail,” she whimpered softly, already stretched to her limit as she felt her body adjusting to him and his relentless pace.
“Go on, Anya,” he encouraged, already dangerously close to the edge and desperate for the feeling of her coming around his cock. “Come for me,” the commanding tone returned to his voice and pushed his hips against hers.
Mikhail pulled out almost entirely before slamming into her once more, the sensation of him buried inside her, sending them hurtling over the edge.
Anastasia came with a sharp cry, collapsing against the mattress as he chased her in his release. Mikhail pulled out of her slowly, dropping to the bed beside her and tugging her closer. He pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead, making Anastasia break out in a grin.
“We didn’t last very long,” she critiqued playfully.
Mikhail would never get tired of seeing the freedom in her expressions and the deliciously joyous way she lived now.
“We’ve got all the time in the world, Anya.”