Misha #2
“You’re sweet because you trust me enough to let me have this part of you.
” I nibble at the crease of her thigh then suck one side of her pussy between my lips and thrust my tongue inside again.
My rhythm builds, and as she fists my hair and pulls hard, I let go, groaning my release but not slowing my efforts.
“Shit, did you—”
I barely manage to pull away from my feast, settling for teasing her clit with soft, fast strokes until she’s squirming underneath me.
Her hands grasp at the sheets, eyes begging for relief, and the roll of her hips that I now know means she’s close to exploding for me.
It won’t be any time at all before I know her tells, and I can’t wait to catalog every minute detail.
“Yeah, baby. That’s how fucking good you taste. Do you understand now? You’re spreading these pretty little legs for me, and letting me taste you and please you. Me. So I can promise you that you taste better than every description you’ve ever read. You taste like mine.”
Finally, I sink one long finger into her fluttering pussy and suck her clit into my mouth, just in time for her to detonate. My girl screams her release, thighs tightening around my head like a vise, and I rapidly harden against my thigh. That’s a faster refractory period than I’ve had in years.
“Give it all to me, Abby.” She feels so perfect around my finger, so goddamn tight, that I know it’s going to be an excruciating, slow process to get my dick inside her. But I have plenty of time.
“Oh fuck,” she whines, legs finally relaxing to release my head before falling open onto the bed.
She’s ethereal, spread wide for me and coated in the proof of her release.
What I did to her. Easing another finger in as she whimpers, I can’t help but lean over her and capture her lips, forcing her to taste my desperation for her to understand how sweet she is.
Scissoring her open, trying to make what’s next as easy as possible for her, I pull back and rest my forehead on hers.
Her fiery curls are damp with sweat, and I feel a deep, primal satisfaction at how sated she is.
She’s going to have to perk up, though. I need at least two more from her before I give her a break.
“You’re being so good for me, lesnaya. Such a good girl. Now tell me who just licked this pretty pussy and made you come so hard. Who was it?”
“You—”
“Ah, ah, ah. What’s my name, baby?”
Blinking back tears, she finally opens the green eyes that, before long, will grace one of the last untouched patches of skin on my body. Her whispered answer steals my next breath, and I’d give all of mine to ensure she has all the air she needs forever.
“Misha.”
My name falls from her lips like the most earnest prayer I’ve heard, but she has it all wrong. I’ll be on my knees before her every chance she gives me, and if either of us is divine, it’s certainly not me.
One last peck and I’m pulling my shirt over my head without preamble, reveling in her widening gaze.
It rakes over my ink and the dark hair covering my chest and stomach before she snaps her eyes shut as I pull down my sweatpants and boxers in one fell swoop.
She’s so fucking cute that I can’t help but chuckle.
“Abby,” I coo. “It’s not going to hurt you, baby. Not in any ways you don’t want.”
One green eye squints at me, eyeing my painfully hard erection that’s proudly pointing at exactly what it wants. Her.
“There’s no way, Misha!” she hisses, and I laugh again. “It’s not going to fit, and you know it! There’s no fucking way. And…what is that?”
Stroking myself slowly as I approach her at the side of the bed, I see that she’s finally gotten a glimpse of my decoration.
A stupid dare that’s turned out to be immensely pleasurable for my partners and me.
The barbell is perfect for G-spot stimulation, and I think she’ll love it, but if not, it’s easy enough to take out.
“It’s called an apadravya. I think you’ll like it, and I promise it’ll fit. You’re made for me, sweetheart.”
She pulls that damn lip between her teeth again, lust flaring in her eyes as she squirms, eyes still on my dick, and I turn to the nightstand for a condom.
I’m clean, and I trust her implicitly, but she’s had two orgasms already, and that’s no time to be making decisions.
We’ll have plenty of time to talk after, and if she wants to feel all of me, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.
Finally, I’m sheathed, and she opens her arms and legs as I slide back over her, keeping my weight mostly on my elbows but letting her feel every degree of the heat that she’s stoking inside me.
As soon as I grind my length across her clit, she gasps, and I swallow it with one last kiss before I pull back to line myself up.
“Are you ready for this cock, Abby? You’ve been such a good girl for me and I—”
My world cracks as she lets out another gasp, and another, looking like a fish trying to breathe out of water.
Her eyes are glazed with fear, not lust, and locked over my shoulder, terrified of something, or someone, from another time.
Instead of trembling with pleasure, she’s as still as a statue.
Only the rapid rise and fall of her chest expresses her panic, and I swallow the bile that rises in my throat.
Moving quickly, automatically, I settle into a routine that is second nature, even after all these years. Decades later, I think I know exactly what Abby’s remembering, and I can’t do anything but keep moving as the box of memories I never open comes tumbling off its shelf.
The thud is what wakes me. I’m a deep sleeper.
Despite the best efforts of the men of the Taranov Bratva to train me for as long as I can remember, it takes a hell of a lot to keep me from getting a full eight hours.
It’s not because I don’t try my best, either.
I know in this business that it’ll shorten my lifespan if I can’t learn to sleep with one eye and both ears open.
At the very least, it’ll be a much smaller pool of positions I’m eligible for.
Nobody wants to be on a recon team with a boy who’s dead to the world as soon as his head hits the pillow.
Not a boy now, Misha. You’re thirteen. You got through your initiation, and you’re on your way to being a full-fledged member of the most powerful organization in the city. You’re a man. Stop thinking of yourself as a boy.
I had been dreaming, which is odd for me, and the subject was batshit enough that I knew the entire time it couldn’t be real.
Mila and I were older, maybe a few years, and wherever we were wasn’t fucking Russia.
It was sunny, we weren’t buried in fur coats and hats, and we were laughing, which happens rarely in real life these days.
“Misha, come on. We’re going to be late!”
“Late for what?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten. Get on!”
Suddenly, I’m on a motorcycle behind Mila as she races around tight curves. The road is parallel to the ocean, and we must be facing West because the sun is setting over the water. I’m holding on for dear life when she screeches to a halt.
“I’m never riding with you again. I knew us getting this thing was a bad fucking idea.”
“Look!”
My protests fade as I shut up and take in what she’s pointing at. Dolphins. Jumping and splashing in the water, the backdrop of the sunset providing an otherworldly glow.
“Holy shit.”
“I know. We made it, Misha. We fucking made it.”
A sob, now, proving that the thud hadn’t been a part of my dream.
My dream where it isn’t fucking cold and I don’t hate every part of my life that doesn’t involve killing or Mila.
Mila, who I’ve known for as long as I’ve been old enough to remember.
Mila, who befriended me instantly when I arrived on the Taranov doorstep as payment for a check my deadbeat father couldn’t cash.
A scrawny, illiterate child who could have cost more to board and train than they would ever get out of me.
But she fought for me, even then, and her grandfather, the Pakhan, let her keep me as a pet.
He told me that if I ever laid a hand on her, I’d be worse than dead for the rest of what he would ensure would be a very long life.
I didn’t understand what he meant then, but now, it’s gross to even think about.
She’s more of a sister to me than anything, maybe even a twin.
I swear it’s like we were separated at birth, and her grandfather embedded in me the absolute need to protect her.
It’s unsettling to me when she goes to train alone, and I never see her for days afterward.
This has been her longest absence yet, and when I hear her, I’m as awake as I’ve ever been.
“Misha.”
It’s barely a whisper, but it’s enough for me to know that something is terribly wrong.
I’m more awake than I’ve ever been as I climb down from the top bunk I’ve always favored.
Having my own room in the Taranov compound is a recent luxury, since they haven’t yet chosen a recruit for me to mentor.
Even though it isn’t big, it’s all mine, with a desk and a simple bathroom attached.
No fleas, plenty of food…I’m always aware that I’m living larger than I could have ever hoped for.
The thud must have been Mila’s back against my bedroom door as she fell back against it after letting herself in, and I lock it on instinct as I take her in.
Whatever sob she let out moments ago must have been the last of the tears she had in her, because she’s catatonic as I kneel. Eyes staring into space, a tremble every few seconds, breaths that are coming so fast I know she’ll pass out if she can’t stop.
“Hey,” I say, softly enough that I almost worry she doesn’t hear me. “Mila. It’s me. You made it to me, okay. You’re okay. Can you tell me what happened? Are you hurt?”