Chapter 31 #3
I squeal, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing his cheeks, his jaw, his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
He laughs, arms wrapping around me tight. “I like seeing you happy.”
I pull back, forehead resting against his. “You make me happy.”
A few hours later we land, and instead of a hotel, the car takes us straight to a private stretch of coastline. When we step out, the sight steals my breath.
A sprawling beach house sits right on the edge of turquoise water, white stone and glass, wide terraces opening to the ocean, infinity pool, palms swaying in the breeze.
We head inside, and it’s interior is opulent. “This place is beautiful.”
Leonid comes up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. “Good. Because it’s yours.”
I spin in his hold. “What?”
He nods toward the coffee table in the living room, on it sits a folder of papers. I walk over and pick it up, flip it open.
The deed, it’s in my name.
I look back at him, stunned. “Leonid, why?”
“It’s your anniversary gift.”
“But we have a home,” I say, voice cracking a little.
“Yeah. We do.” He steps closer, hands settling on my hips. “But I remember you talking, when we first met, about how you always dreamed of having your own place. Somewhere just yours. Even though we’re now married, doesn’t mean you can’t still have it.”
Tears prick my eyes. “You remembered that?”
“I remember everything you say.” He kisses my forehead, then my lips.
“Now I feel bad about the gift I got you.”
He raises an eyebrow, amused. “You don’t have to get me anything, solnyshko. You being in my life is the only gift I need.” His voice drops, warm and serious. “You’re the best mother to our children. Every single day I wake up wondering how I got so damn lucky with you.”
My heart squeezes so hard it hurts. I melt into him, arms sliding around his waist, cheek pressing to his chest.
“We have dinner reservations in an hour.”
I groan, pressing closer anyway. “Five more minutes?”
He swats my ass, and steps back with a dark chuckle. “Go get ready, baby. Or we’ll be late.”
I pout, but obey, heading inside to change.
Dinner is perfect, by the time we finish, the moon is high, shimmering across the waves.
After getting back to the house, we decide to take a walk along the beach barefoot, the gentle waves lapping at the shore. I stop at the water’s edge, dress fluttering in the breeze, and turn to Leonid. “I’ve always wanted to have sex on the beach.”
Leonid’s eyes darken instantly. “Well then… let’s make that dream come true, solnyshko.”
He pulls me against him, mouth claiming mine, hot, urgent, hands roaming. The kiss turns hungry fast. He walks us backward until my back hits a smooth boulder half-buried in the sand.
His fingers find the straps of my dress, sliding them down my shoulders. The fabric pools at my feet, leaving me bare under the moonlight except for my lace panties.
He groans against my throat. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I tug at his shirt, impatient. “Off. Everything off.”
He strips quickly, shirt, pants, briefs, until he’s naked, cock hard and thick, gleaming in the silver light. I reach for him, stroking slowly, thumb swiping over the tip. He hisses, hips jerking.
He lifts me onto the boulder, and spreads my thighs wide. His mouth finds my neck, my breasts, sucking one nipple hard while his fingers slide my panties aside. He circles my clit, slow, teasing, then pushes two fingers inside me.
I moan, head falling back. “Leonid—”
He drops to his knees in the sand, hooks my legs over his shoulders, and buries his face between my thighs. Tongue flat, he licks a long stripe up my slit, then focuses on my clit, sucking, flicking, humming until I’m writhing, hips grinding against his mouth.
“Please—” I gasp. “I need you inside me.”
He rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wild. He lines himself up and sinks in. Slow at first, letting me feel every inch, then deep, bottoming out with a groan.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “So perfect. So wet for me.”
He starts moving, long, deep strokes that hit every sensitive spot. I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, urging him faster. The sound of waves mixes with our moans, skin slapping skin, the wet slide of him inside me.
His hand slips between us, thumb finding my clit again. “Come for me,” he growls. “Come on my cock.”
I shatter, back arching, crying his name into the night as my walls pulse around him, pleasure crashing through me. He fucks me through it, then buries himself deep and comes with a guttural groan, spilling hot inside me.
We stay like that, panting, trembling, foreheads pressed together, moonlight painting us silver.
He kisses me softly, reverently. “I love you.”
I smile against his lips, still floating. “I love you too.”
He pulls out slowly, helps me down. “Let’s go for a swim.”
I love these quiet moments when I get to see him unguarded. Leonid’s lying on his side facing me, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other stretched out like he’s reaching for me.
I study him: the strong line of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble, those full lips parted slightly. The way his lashes are unfairly long for a man. I could watch him forever.
His eyes flutter open, those piercing blue-gray ones finding mine immediately. A slow, sleepy smile curves his mouth.
“How long have you been watching me?” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough with sleep.
“Not long,” I whisper back, smiling. “I just woke up myself.”
He reaches for me, pulling me into his chest. I go willingly, tucking my face against his throat, breathing him in. He kisses the top of my head, then tilts my chin up and kisses me properly, deep, lazy morning love.
“Happy anniversary,” I breathe against his lips.
“Happy anniversary, baby,” he replies, thumb stroking my cheek. “And happy Valentine’s Day.”
I smile, heart so full it hurts. I can’t believe it’s been three years ago, I agreed to come on the trip that brought us together.
“I have a gift for you.”
I slip out of his arms, ignoring his small groan of protest, and pad to my suitcase in the closet. I pull out the thick, black leather album I’ve kept hidden all week, heart pounding with nerves and excitement.
When I climb back onto the bed, he sits up against the headboard, watching me curiously. I hand it to him without a word.
He opens it.
The first page is me in black lace lingerie, hair loose, looking straight at the camera with a small, knowing smile. Boudoir shots. I had them done two weeks ago, a female photographer in a private studio downtown. Every page is me, different poses, different lighting.
His breath catches. His fingers freeze on the page.
“What…” He flips to the next one, then the next. “Fuck.”
He looks up at me, eyes dark, intense. “Please tell me a man didn’t take these.”
I shrug, biting my lip to hide my smile, wanting to tease him just a little. “Maybe.”
He growls. “A man saw you like this? I’m going to hunt the poor bastard down—”
I swat his arm, laughing. “Relax. It was a woman.”
He exhales roughly. “These are…” He flips another page, voice dropping. “Fantastic. I fucking love them.”
I grin. He pulls me into his lap in fluid motion, kissing me hard. “You’re fucking perfect.”
When he pulls back, I make an effort of pulling my hair up, and turning my neck. His gaze drops to the side of my neck. His thumb comes brushing the small, fresh tattoo hidden behind my ear.
His name.
He swears under his breath. “Solnyshko… when did you get this?”
“Yesterday morning,” I say, smiling shyly. “Before we left. When I told you I had errands.”
“How did I not notice?” He traces it with his fingertip, reverent.
“I covered it with my hair.” I shrug. “Do you like it?”
He answers by kissing me again, fierce, hungry, then pulls back just enough to speak against my lips. “I fucking love it.”
He kisses the tattoo itself, soft, lingering.
“I love you,” he says, voice rough with emotion.
Then he smiles. “Now it’s time for your gifts.”
I laugh. “You already gave me the house.”
“That was anniversary.” He slides out of bed, pulling me with him. “These are Valentine’s.”
We walk to the living room hand in hand. On the coffee table sit five gift bags, each labeled in gold script:
Sight. Smell. Taste. Touch. Hearing.
I stop, staring. I don’t have to look to know I’m going to love every item in them.
He wraps his arms around me from behind, chin on my shoulder, kissing my cheek.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, solnyshko.”
THE END