Abby
The tears I tried to hold back fall freely down my face onto Misha’s hands, where he cups my cheeks. His gaze pierces every barrier and speaks directly to my soul, confirming his words. He loves me.
I know what it feels like to be loved, and I know what it feels like not to be loved. And as I sit here snuggled up to this man, I know this is the former.
He wipes my wet cheeks and opens his mouth.
I think he means to say something, but I’m taking it as an invitation instead.
I crash my lips to his, kissing him with as much passion as I can muster.
I love you, I love you, I love you. I hope he can feel it because I can’t bring myself to pull back long enough to say it.
I’m bundled in his arms at this point, but it’s not close enough.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull my body taut against his.
I lower one of my hands under his shirt and hold tight to his shoulder while my other hand grips his soft, dark locks.
I don’t even know where his hands are. I know he only had two last time I checked, but I somehow feel his touch everywhere.
Pulling back when the last drop of air is gone from my lungs, I search his gaze. “I love you too.”
He flips me over on the couch in a blink and takes my mouth once more while tearing at my clothes.
Most of the time, I’m desperate not to have any fabric separating us, but I’m too lost in this kiss to notice.
Nothing else exists at this moment. There is only Misha.
But God, the weight of his presence rivals that of the stars.
He is my sun, my beacon. He’s the light and warmth giving life to a lost soul who never thought it would be found again.
I worship him, pray to my sun, as have the thousands of civilizations before me. Until that all-too-familiar stretch changes everything. Instead of two separate entities, we are one. One galaxy soaring through the universe, transcending space and time.
Our kiss never breaks, so my normally vocal man is silent for once. But I don’t need his words. I love you, I love you, I love you. It’s sent in waves, like an invisible connection straight from his mind to my own, flooding not only my conscience but my entire being.
This is what making love is. It’s more than just sexual stimulation.
It’s pleasure that runs through every cell in my body.
It’s pure euphoria that flows through my veins, that I feel in my bones.
That I feel in my soul. That’s it. That’s the difference.
It’s not just physical pleasure but emotional as well, and the combination is otherworldly.
We go on like this for hours, the only sign of the passage of time being the light filtering in from the windows, shifting from one side of the penthouse to the other.
The intimacy of the day has been all consuming, and as we lie together, connected still by Misha’s half-hard cock, it feels like all of my hopes and dreams have been laid bare tonight.
Whether spoken or unspoken, every bit of my soul has been bared to him, and he’s shown me his own in turn.
The sweat and tears between us have left us covered in a sheen that’s the perfect evidence of our love, and when he shifts his hips slightly, I feel the heat that he’s been stoking all night burning within me again.
“Misha,” I groan. “I need you.”
He rises to the challenge immediately, smirking into my neck where he’s been nibbling and whispering in Russian, prayer-like cadences that I can’t imagine are anything but sweet-nothings. As he hardens once again inside me, he sucks my neck harder, no doubt trying to leave a mark. Caveman.
“Is that right? My needy girl. How many times is this? I lost count after six. Are you not sore?”
He tests the waters with a shallow thrust, and I hiss in pleasure and in pain.
“I am sore, but the ache is worse. Please.”
“Mmm, you know I can’t deny you. How do you want me, lesnaya?”
How do I want him?
There’s no wrong answer. It’s exquisite regardless. But for now…
“Spooning me, please. I want to feel…safe. Wrapped in you.”
With a growl, he shifts, knowing exactly what I want. Behind me, he lifts my top leg to put one of his between, hand squeezing every inch of me he can touch. His bicep becomes my perfect pillow, and his forearm is long enough that he can strum my clit as he picks up his pace.
He’s got me trapped, and instead of feeling stifled and panicked, I feel cherished and grounded. Nothing else matters as long as I have Misha’s arms around me. And his dick inside me.
It’s no time at all before I’m fluttering around him, whining when the pressure on my clit threatens the edge of pain instead of pleasure.
“Such a greedy girl, aren’t you? I’ve fucked you all day, never let my cock slip out of you, and you still want more.
It’s impossible to be greedy for what’s all yours, though, darling.
And every piece of me is yours. I exist at your command.
Do you want to come for me again? One more time for my sweet girl? ”
I’m powerless against him, and he follows me into bliss again, wrapping his arms around me even tighter, as if he’ll never let me go.
Misha traces my hand with his as I catch my breath. It’s so simple, but somehow so intimate. “Will you come to my games this week?”
“Your games?” What games does he…Oh! “I didn’t realize you were playing. I thought you were only there to watch over Thatcher, but yes, of course I’ll come!”
He chuckles and squeezes my hand before pulling it to his mouth for a light kiss. “I’m not playing, lesnaya. I just want you near is all.”
He just wants me near, oh my heart. “How could I ever say no to that? When are the games? And where?”
Fuck, I didn’t think about travel. All of my accounts are linked to Conor, and it’ll ding if I book a flight.
“Only two games this week. Tuesday and Wednesday, and both in Thunder Bay.”
“Oh.” I frown.
Misha sits us both up, concern written across his face as he searches my eyes. “What is it?”
“I work at the library, remember?”
“Psht, that’s it? That’s easy. Quit.”
“I can’t quit.” I roll my eyes.
“Of course you can. I’ll take care of you. You can volunteer if you’re passionate about it, but I hate you having to go.”
I could quit. It’s the idea of a man being in control of my financial well-being that I hate, but it’s not like my salary is my own now. It’s all controlled by Conor anyway.
“Okay, I still have to go in on Tuesday and turn in my resignation. I owe them that, at least. But I’ll be there Wednesday!”
Misha’s pouts are the most pathetically adorable pouts I’ve ever seen in my life. And I used to teach toddlers to skate. Aw, I bet he was so cute as a toddler…I don’t care what he says. I hope our babies look just like him…
“Fineee…You’re such a good girl.”
Good girl…He says it sarcastically, but my breath catches nonetheless, and his demeanor changes instantly. I squeak as he rolls us over, boxing me into his arms once again.
“I lost count of how many rounds we just went, but I know it’s enough that I’m going to have to be gentle for this one.”
He notches his already hard again cock at my opening, and I wince at the sting.
“Told you so.” He pushes slowly back into me, groaning when he bottoms out. “Fuck you are my good girl. Don’t worry…I’ll be gentle.”
He’s not…and God, am I glad he isn’t.
Stepping into the Thunder Bay arena took me back to my childhood.
Of course, we never watched the game from the boxes, but nostalgia hits me nonetheless.
Dad spewing stats and facts about all of the players as they skate by.
Mom walking back to our seats, hands full of concession food.
The lights, the cheers, the smell of the fresh ice, the sound of the puck being passed in drills.
The colors and names on the jerseys are different, but I might as well be back in Canada.
Number 12 Theodoooreee Taranov.
Ellia screams bloody freaking murder right into my ear as they announce her fiancé. “Wooo go, Teddy!” She makes a heart with her hands and holds it up as he turns his attention to our box and blows her a kiss.
She chuckles, giving her attention to me only after he’s not looking anymore. “Taranov is a newer development. He started his hockey career as Theodore Williams and was reluctant to change it at first, but he surprised us last night. He and Thatcher both did!”
Number 19, Thatcher Taranov!
A low but loud woot surprises me, and I whip around to see a beautiful and large woman dressed in black from head to toe with her black hair braided down the middle of her back.
“Someone was eager to rep the Taranov name.” She smiles at Ellie as they exchange a warm hug. “How’s my little protégé doing in there?”
Ellie touches her swelling belly and smiles. “Stronger every day.”
“Just like her aunt.” The Amazonian woman turns to me, her smile growing even more as she holds out her hand. “You must be Abby! I’m not sure if Misha has mentioned me or not, but I’m Mila—”
I throw myself toward her and hug her tight. I’m not sure what possesses me, but after everything between Misha and me, I feel almost like I’m meeting my sister as well. “Hi! Yes, of course he’s mentioned you! How did you know it was me?”
She stiffly returns my gesture, giving me what I would consider half of a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you I could probably spot you with my eyes closed. I didn’t realize you would be such a…hugger, though.”
“Oh! I’m sorry!” God, I’m such an idiot. I’m sure she already hates me.
“I learned the hard way too, Abby. Don’t worry.” Ellie cackles beside us as I let go, then turns back to her soon-to-be sister-in-law. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight. Does Thatcher know, or are you surprising him?”
“Don’t worry about it, as long as Misha has someone to hug, I’ll learn to deal.
” Mila pats my shoulder, then gives her attention to Ellie.
“Yes, he knows. I was supposed to fly back to Russia today, but after Thatcher’s surprise last night, I made some arrangements.
Plus, there’s a big race tonight, and he’s been dying for me to take him to one. Are either of you going?”
Ellie shakes her head. “No, Teddy has been practicing, but he’s nowhere near there yet. I told him I would be too tired, but to be honest, I just wanted to save him some face. I think Nikki is going, though.”
“Oh yes, your brother will be there, and with Misha out of the picture, he’s my only real competition.”
“What’s wrong with Misha?” Ellie looks at me, but I throw my hands up and shrug. “Mila?”
Mila grins wider than I’ve seen all night. “Oh, nothing’s wrong with him per se, but Thatcher has a little surprise for him. You’re going to love it, Abby.”
Confusion must be written across my face because I am fucking confused.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. It’s a special cushion for the pillion seat.
Thatcher loves to backpack, but it can cause his butt to go numb after a while, so I suggested it for longer rides.
Misha is going to hate it, and I know there’ll be hell to pay, but it’s going to be worth it just to see the look on his face. ”
“Um…okay…” I still have no idea what’s going on.
“Are you going tonight?” Ellie asks.
I shrug. “Oh, I don’t know. Misha hasn’t mentioned anything.”
“Trust me, you’re going.” Mila winks.
And for your captains…number 8 Gabri Santori and number 34 Nikki Santori!
The Santori family box goes wild at the announcement of the brothers, and it’s impossible not to join in the cheering.
Even Mila claps for them a little more enthusiastically than the rest of the players.
The only other person not screaming like a banshee is a beautiful blonde woman pressed against the glass.
She may be silent, but her eyes tell a completely different story.
“Who is that?” I whisper to Ellie when the shouts die down enough to hear.
She looks at where I’m discreetly pointing and smiles.
“That’s Nikki’s old friend. Her husband, Chad, is a new transfer this year.
The two of them and Nikki used to be as thick as thieves in college.
She would sometimes come home with Nikki, and I just thought she was the coolest girl in the world.
Of course I was quite a bit younger, and she was a hip college girl, but still. ”
“Wow, how cool for them to get to play together now!”
Ellie makes a face I can’t quite decipher. “I suppose. I honestly don’t know. The whole time Nikki was in college, those two were all he ever talked about. But I haven’t heard him mention them once since he graduated.”
The team skates to their bench, and I abandon my train of thought the moment Misha passes with the biggest grin on his face.
He’s so much better on the ice than he was when we first met.
The memory of our first lesson threatens to bring tears to my eyes.
The past ten years of my life might have been a nightmare, but they brought me to my Misha, and for that I’m thankful.
I would do it all over again for this man.
Joy floods my soul at the thought of how happy the rest of my life is going to be.
I’m sandwiched between Mila and Ellie, two women who I truly believe would have my back no matter what.
I have the sworn protection of Nikki Santori.
The love of my life is only a few meters away, and even though he’s not an actual hockey player, he looks damn good all suited up.
The horn blows, the puck drops, the game starts, and life is good.