Chapter 49
Nikolai
I knock on Isabelle’s front door, adjusting the flowers and gift bag in my arms. I’m not sure why my stomach is doing a gymnastics
routine—it’s just Valentine’s Day—but I barely have a chance to take a breath before she flings open the door.
“You didn’t have to knock,” she says, eyes alighting on the flowers. “It was unlocked.”
“Sounds like a great way to get murdered.”
She shrugs as she leads the way to the kitchen. “I knew you were coming.” As she searches for a vase, she adds, “And I want
you to feel comfortable here. It’s so much better than your dorm.”
When she straightens, I tug her into my arms. The vase is wedged between our chests, but I don’t pay it any mind. “Happy Valentine’s
Day. I thought we were staying in and watching a movie?”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” She rises onto her tiptoes for a kiss. “What, I can’t show off my new dress?”
I’m not sure I’d call what she’s wearing a dress; it reminds me of the fancy nightgowns she wears to bed sometimes. It’s a
soft, gauzy pink, held together with a bow over her breasts. It barely reaches mid-thigh. My mouth goes dry as I take in the
perfect way it clings to her curves. She tilts her head to the side, clearly aware of the way she’s affecting me. If the not-dress
wasn’t bad enough, she’s wearing sheer black knee socks, also adorned with bows.
I actually rub my sternum; this is too fucking much. “I was under the impression we were watching that movie you really like—”
“— The Wedding Singer —”
“—possibly with your brother and Penny and the cat—”
“—they’re gone for the night. We have the house to ourselves.”
That stops me in my tracks. “Wait, really?”
“What, you think I’d be wearing this in front of my brother?” She busies herself with the flowers, trimming the ends before
putting them into the vase. “I didn’t think burning down the house sounded that romantic, so I got takeout from that Greek
place you like. Also, I know you don’t really eat dessert, but the red velvet cupcakes in the bakery window looked too good
to pass up.”
She sets the vase in the middle of the kitchen table. My heart does a funny hiccup at the sight of the candles and place settings.
We discussed having a low-key Valentine’s Day, and all along, she had a plan.
“This looks so nice. Although you didn’t have to go to this trouble.”
“I wanted to be domestic with you,” she says, pecking my jaw. “What’s this?”
Domestic. It’s a nice thought. I lean against the kitchen island, watching as she opens the present. Like I expected, she
gasps at the delicate gold star and moon earrings, but it’s the bag of M she’s already dripping, inner thighs shining with her arousal. As soon as her
ass is nice and pink, I’m going to devour her.
I groan at the thought as I gather her hair over her shoulder. “So goddamn pretty like this, Isabelle, all on display for
me.”
“Nik,” she breathes, pressing her face against my thigh. I rest a hand on her back to steady her. “I wanna feel it.”
“I know, sweetheart. You’re good like that.”
I pick up the hairbrush. It’s pink—no surprise there—with an oval shape and a handle I can grip comfortably. I run the edge
down her spine, stopping just before her ass. I flip it around, slapping the smooth side against one cheek. She whimpers,
her hand slipping down to dig into my calf.
“Tell me how it feels.”
“So good.” She spreads her legs wider. “Give it to me harder.”
I smack the other cheek, then flip the brush and hit her with the bristled side. She gasps sharply, grinding against my leg
as best she can in this position. I build up a rhythm, alternating between the two; she sobs as I spread her cheeks and spank
over her hole. I shudder at that beautiful sound, my free hand digging into her firm thigh. I’m so fucking hard, my dick jolts
with each breath.
But even though I’m feeling the ache bone-deep, I stay focused, controlled. She’s at my mercy, and that comes with responsibility.
I murmur praise all the while, soothing her skin with my palm in between smacks.
When her ass is a gorgeous deep pink, I slip my hand between her legs to widen them, then smack over her cunt with the back
of the hairbrush. It comes away glistening with slick as her body jerks with surprise.
“Look at you,” I whisper. “My perfect fucking girl, so messy already.”
“More,” she says breathily. “I need more, please—”
I don’t think; one moment we’re on the couch, the next on the floor. I slot my mouth against hers, hands roaming everywhere
they can reach. She runs her hands through my hair, jerking on the ends. I wrestle out of my clothes, kissing her all the
while.
“Need to taste you,” I rasp against her stomach. I lick her belly button. “I can’t believe how wet that got you.”
“Wait, wait,” she says before I can dive lower. “I want to taste you, too.”
It takes a little maneuvering, but eventually, we both end up on our sides. My head’s buried between her legs, which are clamped
tightly around me as she mouths at my dick. The position is new, but it’s worth it for the dueling sensations. As she sucks
me, I lose myself in the utter heaven of her soaked pussy. Every moan, every gasp, every whimper—I feel it as well as hear
it, heightening my pleasure. I know she’s feeling the same way, judging by the way her body shakes.
She cups my balls, massaging them as she takes me into her throat. I clench my ass with a moan. My tongue’s inside her, and
she must feel the reverberations of my voice, because her grip around my head tightens deliciously. I’d be content to stay
here forever, caught between her legs, marveling in her seductive, almost sweet taste. I press my face against her inner thigh,
digging my blunt nails into her sore bottom, and bite, hard. She comes with a cry, half-muffled by my cock.
“Fuck.” I laugh breathlessly against her skin. My balls tighten; her honeyed voice is too much. “You take what I give you
so goddamn well.”
As if in answer, she urges me deeper into her mouth, sucking hard. I explode, panting against her pussy as I spend down her throat. It’s too quick to pull back, but she swallows, her moan answer enough about whether she likes it. My blood roars with near-feral satisfaction at the thought of her drinking my seed. We might be coming down from the peak, but part of me is still inside her.
For a long, sweaty minute, neither of us speaks. Then the cat breaks the silence with a plaintive meow. We burst into laughter,
rolling away from each other.
“Way to ruin the mood, Tangerine,” she says as she sits up, shaking out her hair.
“You’re the one who wanted domestic,” I say, kissing her temple. Her face is flushed, lips pleasantly swollen. I haul her
into my lap, double-checking that I didn’t hit her too hard. She won’t bruise, but her skin’s still a beautiful shade of pink.
Whenever we do something like this, I always need to make certain that I kept myself in check. I can’t let it go too far.
“Good?” I check quietly.
“Perfect,” she says with a shiver.
Tangerine inches closer, swiping a paw at my arm. I scratch her behind the ears.
“Do we have a cat, then?” she asks. “If we’re playing house? I thought you’d want a dog.”
“I would like a dog,” I admit. “My dad never wanted an animal in the house. Grandfather didn’t either.”
“What would you name it?”
“Maybe something hockey related.”
“That sounds nice.”
I half smile. Yeah. It does sound nice. “Dinner?”
When she tugs the dress into place again, I tie the bow for her. She straightens my collar, blushing when my hands slip down
to her bottom.
“Go use the bathroom, and when you come back, pour the wine.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she teases.
“Isabelle,” I growl, swatting at her.
She laughs, dancing away from me. When we settle at the table a few minutes later, I sit her on my thigh, holding her in place
with my arm around her middle.
She tilts her head back, squirming. “Really?”
“You didn’t think I was letting you off that easy, did you?” I skim my nose over her shoulder. I should give her a bite to
match the one on her thigh. I settle in the chair comfortably, watching as she adjusts to the position. The adorable splotches
of blush on her cheeks make me want to take her all over again. At this rate, I’m going to be hard as stone by the time we
get to dessert. And I’ll bet she’s going to ruin my pants. “You’re sitting here all meal so you can feel that hairbrush. If
you’re going to tease, you better be prepared to handle the consequences, solnishko.”
She half turns to kiss me, a wild, bright light in her eyes. “As long as you’re the one giving them.”