Chapter 64 Sienna
SIENNA
Later that evening, while Dimi did his final perimeter sweep of the night, I stared at my naked body in the bathroom mirror.
I couldn’t believe how fast nine months had flown by.
I turned to the side and ran my hands down my very round Baby Watermelon—our Lilya.
Pregnancy had definitely brought some changes I would not miss—the constant peeing, heartburn, inability to get off the couch without looking like a beached whale, and the urge to cry if the store didn’t have my favorite ice cream.
But there were other things I liked. How close I felt to baby Watermelon, pride at what my body was doing—and my great tits and glossy hair.
Being intimate with my husband again still left me a little anxious. We were still building our relationship and figuring each other out. But his honesty and vulnerability, along with the care and respect he’d shown me this time at the safe house…it had repaired the fragile trust between us.
Besides, I was having an exceptional hair day, my butt looked especially cute, and I was horny.
I heard the click of the bedroom door closing. It was show time. With one last fluff of my hair, I exited the bathroom. Dimi glanced up from where he was rifling through the dresser and did a double take at how I leaned against the wall, naked.
“Do you need a T-shirt?” he croaked, extending one out to me.
“Do you think I need a shirt?” I sauntered closer, making sure to put an extra swing in my hips. I trailed my fingertips across the top of my breast, circling my nipples. “Do you want to cover me up, husband?”
He groaned and pressed a fist to his face, eyes squeezed shut. “Are you trying to kill me, malyshka?”
“Mmm, no.” I ran my hand down his chest, lower and lower until I cupped his cock through his sweatpants. “I definitely don’t want that.”
A shuddering breath escaped him as he took a stumbling step back. My heart sank and I had the urge to take his offered T-shirt, after all.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, brow furrowed in anguish. “Don’t ever doubt how much I fucking want you. Want this. But, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. You shouldn’t even let my hands touch you.”
“Dimi.” I took his hands in mine, holding tight even as he let out a strangled noise. “This isn’t your guilt to carry.”
He shook his head, but I just tightened my hold. “Do you think your father ever felt like this? Filled with pain and remorse?”
Pain flashed across his face. “Never.”
“I’ve spent my entire life around dangerous men, so trust me when I say men like him aren’t brave or strong.
They’re scared little boys who use violence to feel big.
He tortured the vulnerable precisely because they couldn’t fight back.
Your mama had no source of power in their relationship.
He preyed upon her, exploited her vulnerability. ”
“And I fucking did the same thing to you.”
A tiny smile played on my lips. “Well...you tried.”
“What do you—”
“You have power in this relationship. You’re the Pakhan, and a man. That automatically creates a power differential in our relationship. But now that you know me, do you still think I’m the vulnerable one in this relationship? Am I helpless to fight back?”
Understanding flashed in his eyes, and he let out a quiet huff of laughter.
“You have money,” I added. “But I have more. You command dangerous men...but are you so sure they would follow your orders if you ordered them to harm me?” I braced myself for his response. It was a risk—suggesting that his men might defy him for my sake—so Dimi’s responding wide smile shocked me.
“They love you, Sienochka.” He tugged his hands out of mine, placing them on my hips instead. His fingertips dug into my skin, tight and possessive. “They would overthrow me in an instant if it meant crowning you queen.”
I pursed my lips. “I’m not so sure of that.”
He shook his head. “Not to mention the fucking Hedgehog has enough friends around the world to end regimes. I don’t think you fully understand how people on the Forum see you.”
“I’m scared to forgive you,” I whispered. “But...I think I’m ready to try. I want you, Dimi.”
“I’ll never forgive myself.”
I shook my head. “You have to if this relationship is going to work. We can’t have this lingering between us. Maybe there’s something you can do to earn forgiveness.” I ran my fingers through his hair, giving it a firm tug.
He shivered. “How?”
“Through surrender.” I trailed my fingertip up the column of his throat, feeling him swallow. “Surrender to me, Dimochka,” I said, using the diminutive form of his name I’d found online. “Repent on your knees and earn your forgiveness.”
He dropped to his knees before I even finished speaking.
He caressed my hips, his forehead resting against my belly.
“Moya tsaritsa.” My empress. “I’m so fucking sorry for causing you pain.
For not being the man and husband you need and deserve, and for leaving you alone these months when all I wanted was to be close to you.
Never again, I promise. I’ll crawl through fire to get to you.
Stay on my knees for the rest of my life to earn your forgiveness. ”
My heart ached as Dimi’s words knit together the wounds I’d carried for so long. The fears that I was too much. Unworthy of care. Destined to be forever pushed to the side.
“You’ve consumed me since that first night in Paris,” he continued. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’d give the entire world for the honor of being at your side.”
My eyes welled with tears, but they were ones of relief and gratitude. He reached up and brushed them away.
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
“Yes.” His response was immediate. No equivocation, no hesitation. It made me feel strong.
He ran his hands up my sides. “Are you going to have your way with me now, malyshka?”
I nodded, but my bravado deserted me a bit and I wavered. Now what was I supposed to do? My extremely limited sexual experiences all involved Dimi taking control.
He chuckled, hands kneading my hips. “Don’t chicken out now.”
I scowled. He did not just fucking say that.
He pressed his face across my pussy and a noise of protest escaped from the back of my throat. I gripped his hair, tipping his head back far enough for me to meet his gaze around my belly. He moaned at the sting, eyes flaring with arousal.
“You want to taste me?” I asked.
“Yes.” His voice was low with need.
I ran the tip of my finger up the column of his throat. “Then beg for it.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. When they opened again, they burned with fire. “Please. Please put me out of my misery and let me taste you.”
I was the desperate one here with my flushed cheeks and aching nipples, but there was one more thing I needed from him. I renewed my grip on his hair. “Tell me—whose pussy are you begging for?”
His brow furrowed, but his confusion quickly cleared when he realized what I was really asking. “Sienna. My queen. My everything. It’s only ever been you.”
Not Emma. Not Declan. Just Sienna and Dimitri, together in all our messy chaos.
Tension melted from my shoulders, and I smiled. “My Dimochka.”
Something profound and heavy stretched in the space between us, filled with emotions we both felt, even if we weren’t ready to speak the words.
He swayed closer, but this time I gave him a nod.
His responding smile could be described as nothing less than breathtaking.
He trailed his hands up my legs, palming my ass and caressing my stomach.
“Fuck, Sienna. You are a goddess.” His expression was reverent, like I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
Renewed confidence and arousal flooded my body, transforming me into the powerful goddess he saw.
I was dripping, but I wouldn’t make this easy for him so when he pressed his face to my pussy and breathed in deeply, I tsk’d and nudged him away. “Strip for me.”
He immediately pushed to his feet and made a show of slowly pulling off his T-shirt with one hand, revealing a broad, muscular chest, defined abs, and a light dusting of hair leading down.
..His mouth tipped into a smirk at my blatant ogling, and he wasted no time pulling off his sweatpants, revealing the thick, ruddy cock I craved.
He ran his hand down his shaft in a firm stroke, but I shook my head.
“I decide when you get pleasure.”
He swore, but clenched both hands into fists at his side.
A thrill of power went through me. “Good. Now, slowly turn around for me.”
He smirked, but didn’t argue. I let out an appreciative groan at his firm, round ass cheeks. I stepped forward until my belly pressed against his low back. “Don’t move,” I murmured.
His muscles rippled with the effort to stay still. I ran my hands across his shoulders, tracing each one of his scars on my path down his back until I cupped his ass and firmly squeezed each cheek.
He groaned. “Fuck, baby.”
I grinned and stepped back, leaning against the wall. “Turn around and back on your knees.”
He turned, keeping intense eye contact while he lowered to his knees. His cock bumped against his stomach, leaving a trail of precum I wanted to lick up.
“Please,” he breathed. “I want to make you feel good, malyshka. Give me this chance to earn your forgiveness.”
I hummed, stroking my fingers down his firm jaw. “You may repent.”
He wasted no time. In a swift movement, he gripped my thighs and moved between my legs, his shoulders forcing my legs to spread wide around him.
He might have been the one kneeling, but I was utterly at his mercy as he slowly licked me from ass to clit, dragging a moan from my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this—his touch, his devotion, his care.
I only wished I could watch him, but my belly made that impossible.
There was something, though, about not being able to see what he was doing that heightened my senses.