We hang up, and I slip back inside, running a palm over the smooth gray suede couch and fixing the decorative pillows. On my way to the bedroom, the pink pen practically glares at me, telling me this marriage doesn’t even exist and Mikhail could walk away a free man anytime, maybe even tonight. I approach the license and tap the pen against it, debating.
I want him. He seems to want me. Unlike Ivana, I haven’t lost faith that love will prevail even if I’m hiding the fact I know Ivana worked for me as much as she worked for him. We girls have to stick together and help each other out, not tear each other down. I’ll keep secrets for me and him and her. Besides, everyone has secrets and even in a marriage, two people are allowed their own private thoughts, or risk losing themselves so completely, they’ll forget who they were in the first place.
I sign the paper and instantly feel like a burden has lifted off my chest. My brother can’t touch me. Nobody can because my husband is gonna kill for me, and that’s what he offers: protection, safety. Alone, I’m not able to secure those things for myself, not in this kind of lifestyle.
God knows I’ve tried running, moving to different states, even considered a name change so my brother wouldn’t find me to control what I do and how I do it. There were also those times when he would slide a hand down the opening of my dress in the back, and I felt like he would cross the line and that creeped me out. I knew I needed to get away from him.
In the bedroom, I find Mikhail propped up on a pillow, one strong, tattooed arm under his head, sheets covering only his groin so my eyes immediately slide from his face down his hard abs and strong muscular thighs. I memorize his tattoos. The lion on the chest, some sort of crest on the thigh, and as I round the bed and sit beside him, I read one under his rib cage.
The villain is her hero.
I trace it with a fingertip. “What’s that mean?” I ask.
Pretending to ignore me, he watches TV. He’s a grouch tonight, though he can pretend to be mad all he likes when I see the tent rising between his legs. The great thing about being a woman is that men don’t know when we’re aroused. Guys have it harder in that department.
“It means what it says,” Mikhail says, adamant about watching TV and being a grump.
Smiling, I kneel between his legs and block the TV. He’s giving me a bored look with his one good eye as if he’s got it all under control, when really, his dick is mine, and we both know it.
There’s something empowering about being able to make this man succumb to his urges when he’s trying not to. I slide my hand under the sheets and grab his hard length. When I hearhis groan, I get a sense of victory, and I bend to take him into my mouth, tasting precum as the tip touches my tongue. I suck him hard, hollowing my cheeks and moving my head up and down, just waiting for the moment he’ll fist my hair and move me anyway he pleases.
He doesn’t disappoint. Mikhail grabs a fistful of my hair and strokes my cheek with his other hand, tapping it a bit as if he’s slapping but not quite, so I don’t know if I’m turned on or not and it puts me on edge but also makes me hot, and makes me want to suck him harder, though there’s very little I can do when he’s guiding my head and choking me on his length.
Tears accumulate in my eyes as he won’t let up, buried all the way to block my airway. I look up and tap his thigh. He smirks, lets me breathe a little, then forces my mouth back to work on him.
I grab his heavy balls and weigh them in my palm, then start sucking on those too while pumping him with my hand. When I think he might cum, I stop and climb atop him, align my opening, and sit on top of him.
Mikhail is long and large and fills me so completely that I sigh as I move over him, feeling how his length rubs against my spot and the way his fingers move over my clit, flicking it to get me off. I lean my palm on his hard chest and move only my hips, which makes his length hit the back side of my channel too. I love how his hand lands on my ass. He spanks me, then spreads my cheeks to rub my little hole.
He flips us over.
I yelp at the sudden change.
He spreads my legs and kneels between them, runs a hand over my pussy, slaps it. I yelp, then groan as he sticks fingers inside me and pumps. I’m thinking he’s gonna get me off, but he takes them out and coats his dick. Scooting closer, he lifts myhips and arranges me closer so when the head of his cock hits my back hole, I know what Mikhail wants.
Briefly, he pauses before he enters there, watching me maybe for protest, maybe for permission, and I wiggle, telling him without words I want this.
His cock feels massive as it probes and stretches my small hole, and I grip the sheets.
“Relax the muscles,” he says, voice hoarse and horny. He rubs my thighs as he slowly pushes inside, and I sigh as the big tip passes the entrance and the length of him is in.
Mikhail moves in and out of my ass, one hand rubbing my thigh, the other working my clit. It all starts out slow and gentle, but as he moves in and out of me, he picks up the pace, his jaw tightening, his muscles straining. I bet he’s holding back, trying not to go too fast or too hard. I can appreciate that. I love him for that.
He falls over me and cups my face, still moving inside me. I feel my orgasm building. I kiss the corner of his lips, needing that bit of intimacy I crave from him besides sex.
He surprises me and kisses my nose, cheeks, each eye, forehead while moving faster inside me. It’s both slow and fast, affectionate and hard, and I’m confused, torn between wanting him to fuck me harder and wanting him to hold me, and he’s so complicated and interesting, and I grab his shoulders, holding on to them as he whispers in my ear, “I own you.”
I cum, my body bending, pussy empty yet coming anyway. It’s one of the best orgasms I’d ever had, made better when I feel a jet of his cum shoot up inside me.
He collapses over me, and for a while, I know nothing besides the scent of him. He smells like strength and dominance and man, and if he has to own me completely to give me what I need from him, then that’s good for both of us. “Yes, you do.”
He props himself up on his elbows and withdraws from me. I feel the tickle of his cum and think about the fine sheets. “I’m thinking about the sheets right now,” I say.
“Hm?”
“The sheets are gonna get stained.”
“And?”
