Her food covered handprints get on everything.
“I’ll wear the stains with pride,” he assures me, bringing my forehead to his lips. “Please try with Alyona.”
“I am.” I exhale, closing my eyes.I am.
“Come on, let’s eat,” he urges, glancing at the door.
“I already have,” I tease, a playful smile dancing on my lips.
He flashes me a grin, his eyes sparking like the devil’s. “Don’t make me undress us both again. It’s really counterproductive.” His tone is light but suggestive.
“Mmmm, later then,” I promise, savoring the moment and the playful tension.
Roza is sitting in her highchair in front of the TV watching blobs of color teach her the alphabet while she playfully smacks her spoon against her bowl in the dining area.
Alyona, who’s now in the kitchen and sipping a mug of coffee, has changed into skintight jeans, long knee-length boots, and a clingy,too fucking clingy, top that outlines the round fullness of her tits. Her hair is loose, falling down her back. She’s applied a smudge of black under her eyes and colored her lips with a pink tinge.
This is the most she’s looked like herself since we reunited. It’s distracting as fuck.
“The bulb needs to be changed.” She flits her eyes up to the hanging fixture above her head that’s flickering.
“I’ll fix the bulb later,” Z tells her, taking a slice of apple from a bowl on the counter and biting into it. “You look good.”
“So do you.” She eyes him over the rim of her mug, pursing her lips to blow on the contents to cool it.
“Did you enjoy the show this morning?” he croons, sidling right up to her. He grasps her hair into his fist, moves it over her shoulder, and nips her neck. He’s been this way with her since we moved in. Touchy-feely, but not taking it further.
“It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve experienced you both fucking me, so…” she quips, lifting a shoulder.
I almost drop the coffee pot I’ve just picked up.
“Mmmm.” Z moans into her neck. “I wanted to eat your cunt until you screamed.”
“Oh my God," she whines, placing her mug on the counter.
I bite my lip to stop from laughing at her neediness and his crass tongue at breakfast.
“I felt alive again in all this mayhem and pain,” she breathes, closing her eyes to enjoy his lips against her neck.
“Are you rhyming?” I ask and Z barks out a laugh straight from his gut, moving away from her to cover his mouth. “Someone’s been watching too much toddler TV.”
“I wasn’t rhyming, asshole.” She glares at me as she picks up a carton of milk and opens the fridge to put it away.
“I think she’s mad, Z.” I raise a brow, smirking into the coffee I’ve just poured.
“I think she’s frustrated.” He scoffs, reaching for her. “And he’s just messing with you, love.” He assures her, like he’s placating a child.
He’s already gone, completely captivated by her. She possesses a power over him that she doesn’t even realize she wields. Normally, Z possesses a will of steel. Yet, in her presence, he becomes like an addict, lost in the haze of his obsession, with no desire to get clean.
“You're being a jerk, Rodion,” she exclaims, her frustration evident as she huffs and slams the fridge door shut with a loud thud. Turning on her heel, she storms into the other room.
Z looks up at me, his lower lip protruding in a pout, eyes filled with disappointment. I rub my brow, feeling the tension building in my temples as I try to steady my thoughts.
“Fine,” I say, throwing my hands up in defeat. “I’ll go make her come. Happy?”
“Can I help?” he asks.
“No.”
