Abby
I can’t sleep. What the actual hell. This is the third night in a row, and I’ve been tossing and turning for hours.
My mind isn’t racing anxiously like on other nights when I struggle to rest. No, there’s only one thing, one person on my mind.
In fact, I couldn’t think about anything other than him, if I wanted to.
Misha. His touch, his voice, his breath on my neck…
My mind might not race, but it has wandered, taking me down paths of forbidden pleasure it hasn’t dared to journey on in years.
I’m not a robot. Or at least I haven’t always been.
I was human once. I experienced the effect that desire has on your body…
the tingles, the yearning, the aching deep in your core that only a lover can soothe.
But that was long ago. Before I got married and was trained not to associate anything even remotely pleasurable with sex.
The story of The Princess and the Pea comes to mind. It was one my mom used to read to me all the time when I was younger because it’s always taken me forever to get comfortable.
“Of course she’s a princess! She’s my princess. Isn’t that right?” A kiss on my forehead from my dad was always what would calm me enough to fall asleep.
God, I miss them. Both of my parents taught me what it truly meant to be loved, but it was my dad who made me feel safe. I never felt that with Conor. Despite everything that came along with his Prince Charming act, I should have known. But what can I say? I was young and dumb.
I feel it with Misha, though. I know I would sleep soundly in his arms. Despite knowing he’s involved with a family crime, despite the rugged look about him, despite everything, I know he’s safe.
Every cell, every atom, every fragment of my being knows intrinsically that he is a refuge for my battered soul.
I finally give up. With an exaggerated huff, I reach for my phone.
It’s already four in the morning, and there’s no way I’m going to be ready for today’s skate practice in a few hours.
I hate to cancel, but without sleep, I’ll be no use to Misha anyway, and exhausted skating can lead to injury.
Seeing his name in my phone sends a current of electricity straight to my core, and I can’t stop the whine that escapes as I replay our last memory for the thousandth time this weekend.
We do both have the day available now…and I’ve never heard of any sex-related injury due to exhaustion.
At least not from an exhausted receiver, and the way Misha was talking…
Me: I’m in. No skate practice today. I want you to teach me instead.
There, it’s sent. Can’t do anything about it now. I mean, I can. I could edit the text. Or just unsend it altogether. Maybe I should. It’s kinda last minute and—
My phone pings before I can take any further action.
Misha: I will teach you any and everything you want, lesnaya. When and where would you like to meet?
Um…I haven’t thought that through. When? Is right now an option? No, no, I need to get ready and maybe have something on my stomach, if I can even bring myself to eat…
Me: Late morning should be fine
The arena where we usually meet isn’t necessarily the most romantic place. Not that I would care since he definitely got me hot in the locker room on Friday. But I don’t think I’m ready to invite him over.
Misha: Will 11 work for you? If not, any other time is fine.
Me: 11 will be perfect. Idk where, though…
Misha: You’re welcome to come to my place. Or I can come to you.
Misha: Or if you aren’t comfortable with either of those, I can book a neutral spot.
Me: No, no, you don’t need to do that.
Me: Um…I guess I can come to your place if that’s okay?
Misha: That’s perfect. I’ll see you at 11 ??
Misha sends me his address, and I type it into Maps right away. I’m not familiar enough with the city to identify the good and bad areas from the address alone. I would assume he lives somewhere nice, being so close to the Santoris, but he’s still involved with the Mafia, so you never know.
The street view finally loads, and wow. Nice doesn’t do this area justice.
This is the city’s most affluent area. Ironically, it’s as safe as it gets.
It’s exactly where Conor and I would be if we lived in Thunder Bay.
My condo is in a nice area too, but we had to make it somewhat believable for a librarian.
Even one with a little inheritance from her “dead parents.”
Throwing the covers off, I hop out of bed and grab my robe.
There’s no use pretending I’m going to sleep now.
It’s still dark out, and I should have just enough time to brew a pot of coffee and sit on my balcony to watch the sunrise.
It’s something I used to love doing, many years ago.
It used to symbolize a new day of possibilities, but since marrying Conor, it’s only been a reminder that I have to carry on for one more day.
Today feels like the former, though. A new day with endless possibilities.
I wonder if Misha enjoys watching the sunrise.
Maybe he’ll be watching it too, thinking of me.
I certainly can’t think of anything except him.
I’m fifteen minutes early, but my nerves got the best of me, and I couldn’t wait any longer. With a deep breath, I scrounge up the courage to knock, but before my fist makes contact, the door flies open.
“Lesnaya, you look beautiful,” he says, smiling down at me and taking my hand that’s still held up to knock on his door. “Come in.”
Wow, his place is nice. Floor-to-ceiling windows boast sweeping views of the city. The calm, refined decor features soothing colors and textures that flow through the open-concept living area. And he wasn’t lying about being clean. Immaculate is more like it.
“Wow, this is…wow.”
Misha chuckles, his hand gentle on the small of my back as he guides me to a kitchen island barstool. “I admit, it’s not bad.” He pauses while I take my seat. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea, a snack?”
“No, I’m good. Thank you, though.”
Misha props himself up across the island from me. “How was your weekend?”
“All I did was read, so it was pretty boring really. What about you?”
He smirks. “That depends on the book, don’t you think?”
The book in question was, indeed, not boring at all, and I blush thinking about some of the scenes.
A tall, tatted, experienced man who rides a motorcycle and would burn the world for his woman was exactly what I needed after Friday.
I had just the man to imagine, too. Misha fits the description almost perfectly, although I don’t think he owns a sex club like the man in the book. I don’t even think those exist...
“Ha! So it wasn’t a boring weekend after all.”
Rolling my eyes, I toss the first decorative pillow I can reach at Misha. “What did you do?”
“Uh...also pretty boring, but no fun book.”
The conversation continues clinically, a stark contrast to our normal goofy camaraderie, until it eventually tapers out into silence.
I’m looking down at the island, playing an imaginary beat on the quartz with my fingers when I feel his presence.
“Stand up.”
My body follows his command, and before my conscious mind has the chance to register his words, I’m off the barstool and on my feet.
The moment I’ve found my footing, he’s there, not a hair’s width of space between us, and I relish the heat from his body.
It floods into me like lava, going straight for my aching core.
I’ve been this close to him before, but usually with skates on, and I somehow attributed his height to the extra inches of the blades, but it’s not them at all.
At least a foot of difference between us puts his chest at my eye level, and what a chest it is.
Even behind the fabric of his shirt, his muscle definition is clear… and I need to feel it.
Misha’s grip falls to the small of my waist as my hands find their target. My breath falters as they trace his muscles, starting at his chest and working their way up to his neck and down his shoulders.
“Look at me, darling.” He squeezes me gently before moving one of his hands to my chin and lifting my gaze to his. “You’ve told me your opinion on sex, but do you pleasure yourself?”
My voice betrays me and even movement seems impossible, but I’m able to give the slightest shake of my head as I stare dreamily into Misha’s gray eyes.
His half smile is my final undoing, and I melt into his embrace.
If I died now, I would die a happy girl.
My eyes flutter, but Misha doesn’t let me close them.
He pulls my chin up to his as he leans down, bridging the gap between us.
“Don’t you dare shut those gorgeous eyes of yours, lesnaya. I need them more than I need air.”
They open wide, shocked at his praise. He’s so close now I can feel his smirk better than I can see it.
“You’re such a good girl, minding me so well…This one is all you, sweetheart.”
His lips antagonize me as I nod, but despite how badly I want his kiss, he doesn’t take it any further. Instead, he gently takes my hands, wraps them around his neck, and lifts me with ease before walking me over to his couch.
“Have you ever gotten yourself off?”
I nod.
“I know this is a lot, sweet girl, but I need you to use your words.”
“Yes, I’ve gotten myself off.”
“With your hand or with a toy?”
“Both.”
“And your preference?”
“I…I don’t remember…” I whisper. My response is embarrassing but true. I don’t remember what pleasure even feels like at this point, but every nerve ending in my body is dying to experience it right now.
“We’re about to change that, starting with your hand.” Misha takes my hand, kissing my knuckles, then guides it between my thighs.
My hand shakes in his as he leads it higher, breaching the hem of my dress, and by the time I’ve reached the lace of my thong, I’m trembling.
It’s only a light brush, but even through the fabric, it lights my core on fire.
A chill spreads through my body, and Misha chuckles, running his hand over the pebbled skin on my arm.
“This is going to be more fun than I thought. If you’re this responsive to your own touch with the barrier of your panties…I’m going to have you coming completely undone.” He pushes my fingers against the lace above my clit with more pressure.
The fabric pulls roughly against me as Misha guides my touch in circles.
The mix of pain and pleasure is overwhelming, and I’m on the verge of my release in no time.
Just as I’m about to fall over the edge, he stops, and I slouch in disappointment.
It’s been years since I’ve been able to orgasm, and I was right there.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know you were so close.” He dips my hand under my thong, this time lower. “But this will feel so much better. Trust me.”
I can’t recall ever being this wet. I’m much less sensitive at my opening, but feeling my arousal does something to me. Misha dips one of my fingers inside and presses, forcing me to tease the sweet spot I’ve heard women talk about but never experienced.
“We’ll play with that later, baby.” He pulls at my hand, groaning at the lewd sound my wetness makes as my finger pops free, then guides it back to my bare clit. “For now, I want you to use what your body’s giving you and rub that pretty clit of yours until you’re shaking.”
He guides me in circles like before, but with increased pressure and speed, then removes his hand from mine.
I wish he didn’t. It’s his touch I want, not my own.
But I’m too close. I’m so close that I don’t even care how silly I must look as he watches.
My eyes are closed, but I hear his approval.
That’s it, baby. You’re falling apart so beautifully for me.
My perfect girl. My gorgeous girl. Come for me, Abby. You can do it, darling…come for me.”
I do. Everything turns bright white as my orgasm hits me in waves. It’s been so long since I’ve experienced one, but it’s never felt like this. Like I’ve finally reached heaven. And when I open my eyes to see Misha’s face, I know I’ve met my god.