13. Emilia
EMILIA
Three months later.
The morning light spills through the curtains, warm and golden, painting stripes across the bed. My fingers trace the edge of the sheet, my body still humming from last night from him.
It's been three months. Three months of waking up like this, with his arms wrapped around me, his breath steady against my neck, his heartbeat a slow, reassuring rhythm beneath my palm.
No more games. No more tests. No more cruelty disguised as control.
Just him.
I shift, my belly pressing against his side, the weight of our child a constant, grounding presence.
His hand slides over the curve, his fingers splaying wide, possessive even in sleep.
I bite my lip, watching the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the way his mouth softens when he's not wearing that sharp, guarded expression.
He's different now.
Not softer—Egor will never be soft—but steady.
Reliable in a way I never thought he could be.
The man who once saw betrayal in every shadow now kneels beside me in the middle of the night when the baby kicks too hard, his voice low and rough as he murmurs nonsense words against my skin.
He cares for me so much, asking if I'm hungry, if I'm tired, if I need him to run me a bath.
I turn my head, pressing my lips to his shoulder. His arm tightens around me, pulling me closer, his body waking before his mind does.
"Karamelka," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. "You're up early."
I don't answer.
His eyes snap open, pewter-gray and sharp, locking onto mine. "Emilia, why aren't?—"
I silence him with a kiss, my tongue sliding against his, my body melting into his. His hands grip my hips, pulling me on top of him, his cock pressing against my slit, already slick and aching for him.
But I pull back, my breath coming fast. "I love you."
The words hang between us, raw and unfiltered. His body stills beneath me, his hands tightening on my waist, his eyes burning into mine.
I don't look away.
He exhales, slow and controlled, his thumbs brushing over my skin. "Say it again."
I lean down, my lips brushing his ear. "I love you, Egor Vetrov."
His hands slide up my back, pulling me down, his mouth crashing against mine. There's no hesitation, no doubt… just heat, and need, and something deeper, something that feels like forever.
I slide my hand down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, lower… until my fingers wrap around him. He's already half-hard, his cock thickening in my grip, his breath hitching as I stroke him slow and firm.
He pulls my hand away and straightens up,
The sheets are cool against my skin as he rolls me onto my back, the weight of my breasts heavy, full and aching. My nipples tighten, the pressure building, a slow burn that spreads through my chest, down to my core. I bite my lip, my fingers curling into the fabric beneath me.
Egor's gaze darkens, his eyes tracking the movement, his body already shifting closer. His hand slides up my thigh, rough and possessive, his touch leaving fire in its wake.
"Let me make you feel good first, karamelka," he murmurs, his voice low, rough. His thumb brushes over my nipple, and I gasp, my back arching off the bed. A pearl of milk beads at the tip, glistening in the morning light.
His tongue darts out, licking his lips, his eyes locked on mine as he leans down.
His mouth closes over my nipple, hot and wet, and I whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair.
The pull is sharp, electric, sending a jolt straight to my clit.
His tongue swirls, his lips sealing tight as he sucks, his free hand kneading my other breast, his fingers pinching and rolling my nipple until I'm writhing beneath him.
"Fuck," I breathe, my hips lifting, my thighs pressing together. "Egor…"
He releases my nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening. "I know what you want," he rumbles, his hand sliding down my body, his fingers tracing the curve of my belly before dipping lower. His touch is slow, deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. "Let me take care of you."
His fingers slide through my folds, gathering my arousal, spreading it over my clit. I moan, my head pressing back into the pillow, my body arching into his touch. His mouth latches onto my other nipple, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing, and I cry out, my fingers tightening in his hair.
"You taste so fucking good," he growls against my skin, his voice vibrating through me. "Sweet. Rich. Mine." His fingers circle my clit, slow and teasing, his touch maddening. "Look at you, karamelka. So wet. So fucking perfect."
I whimper, my hips rolling, my body begging for more. He chuckles, low and dark, his breath hot against my skin. "You want my cock, don't you? Want me to fill this tight little cunt, stretch you open, make you come all over me?"
"Yes," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, Egor."
He shifts, his body covering mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His cock slides against my slit, the head slick with precum, and I moan, my legs wrapping around his waist, my heels digging into his ass. He groans, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath ragged.
"Fuck, Emilia," he growls, his hips rolling, his cock sliding through my folds, teasing my entrance. "You feel so good.."
I whimper, my body trembling, my nails raking down his back.
He captures my mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, his taste intoxicating. His cock presses against my entrance, the head stretching me open, and I gasp, my body tensing, my fingers clutching at his shoulders.
"Relax, karamelka," he murmurs against my lips, his hand sliding between us, his fingers circling my clit. "Let me in. Let me make you feel good."
I whimper, my body melting beneath his touch, my hips lifting, my pussy swallowing the head of his cock. He groans, his body shuddering, his fingers working my clit in slow, maddening circles.
"That's it," he growls, his hips rolling, his cock sinking deeper, stretching me open. "Take me, karamelka. Take all of me."
I cry out, my body arching, my nails digging into his skin.
He's so big, so thick, filling me completely, his cock pressing against that sweet spot deep inside me.
His mouth latches onto my nipple again, his tongue swirling, his lips sealing tight as he sucks, and I moan, my body trembling, my pussy clenching around him.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his hips rolling, his cock sliding in and out, slow and deep.
I whimper, my body trembling, my hips rolling, meeting his thrusts. His fingers work my clit, his touch relentless, his mouth never leaving my breast. The pressure builds, coiling tight in my core, my body trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Egor," I breathe, my voice trembling. "I'm?—"
"I know, karamelka," he growls, his hips snapping, his cock driving deep, his fingers circling my clit. "Come for me. Let me feel you come all over my cock."
I cry out, my body arching, my pussy clenching around him as my orgasm crashes over me, my body trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. He groans, his body shuddering, his cock driving deep, his release spilling inside me, hot and thick.
He collapses against me, his body heavy, his breath ragged. His mouth finds mine, his kiss slow and deep, his tongue sliding against mine. His hand slides up my body, his fingers tangling in my hair, his touch gentle, possessive.
"You're mine, karamelka," he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough, his breath warm. "Always mine."
The salt wind whips off the Atlantic, tangling my hair into knots I don't bother to smooth. Egor's palm is warm against the small of my back, his thumb tracing slow circles through the thin cotton of my sundress.
He asked me on a date, a quick walk by the beard.
The boardwalk hums with summer—laughter from the arcade, the clatter of skeeball, the sizzle of funnel cakes—but all I hear is the steady thump of my own heartbeat and the low rasp of his breath beside my ear.
"You ever think about how strange it is?" His voice is rough, like gravel under boot heels. "All these years, I built walls so high I couldn't even see over them. Then you walked in with your leaking tits and your smart mouth, and suddenly I'm the one who can't breathe without you."
I glance at him, at the way the setting sun turns his pewter eyes to molten silver. His jaw is shadowed with stubble, his knuckles scarred from a lifetime of fists and fury. But his touch is gentle when he brushes a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek.
"You're not exactly the poster boy for emotional vulnerability," I tease, but my voice wavers. The swell of my belly presses against his side, a constant reminder of the life we've already made together. Our child kicks, a sharp little jab that makes me gasp.
Egor's hand drops to my stomach, his palm splaying wide. "They know their father's voice," he murmurs, his thumb stroking the taut skin.
I swallow hard. The boardwalk fades into a blur of neon and noise. All I see is him, the way his throat works when he swallows, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. The way he's looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters.
"Emilia." My name is a prayer on his lips.
He stops walking, turning to face me fully.
The ocean roars behind him, waves crashing against the pilings like a drumbeat.
His hands slide down my arms, his fingers threading through mine.
"I spent my whole life taking what I wanted.
Never asking. Never waiting. But you…" His voice cracks.
"You made me want to be better. Made me need to be better. "
My breath hitches. His grip tightens, his thumbs pressing into my palms.
"I don't deserve you," he says, and the raw honesty in his voice steals the air from my lungs. "But I'm selfish enough to ask anyway." His knee hits the weathered boards with a soft thud. The world tilts.
The ring box is small, black velvet worn at the edges. When he opens it, the large diamond catches the last of the sunlight, throwing sparks across my vision. A single, flawless stone set in platinum.
"No pressure," he says, his voice rough. "No demands." His eyes burn into mine. "Will you let me spend the rest of my life trying to be the man you and our child deserve?"
Tears blur my vision. I don't bother wiping them away. The salt on my lips tastes like the ocean, like home.
"Yes," I whisper.
His hands tremble as he slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly.
Egor surges to his feet, his arms wrapping around me, lifting me off the ground. His mouth crashes into mine, hot and desperate, his tongue sweeping past my lips like he's claiming every part of me. I cling to him, my fingers tangling in his hair, my body melting against his.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. "Say it again," he growls.
"Yes." I smile, my thumb tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "I love you."
His breath shudders out. "Fuck, karamelka." His hands slide down to cradle my belly, his touch possessive, reverent. "I love you too. Both of you. Always."
The waves crash behind us, the boardwalk lights flicker to life, and for the first time in my life, I don't feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff.
I feel like I'm finally home.