30
YULIAN
Not to be dramatic, but the last two months have been the happiest time of my life since…well, ever, really.
It’s like I’m back to being the giddy kid who bulldozed a wall at the park, fell down, then jumped right back up. Mama shook her head and wiped the mud off my face—and mouth. What? I was curious to see how it tasted, which isn’t as bad as everyone makes it out to be, by the way.
It’s similar now—that sense of freedom and happiness without limits.
I’m whistling and performing sort of a dance on my bike as the road flashes in the background. The reason for my uplifted mood is fairly simple.
It’s Friday!
My favorite day of the week ever. I loathe Sunday to pieces while we’re at it, since that’s the day Vaughn leaves.
But no, nope, I’m not thinking about that unholy day—and yes, church, I called Sunday unholy, and no, I won’t apologize. I won’t be accepted in heaven anyway.
Usually, Vaughn leaves by midday Eastern time and reaches here very late in the evening, but it’s always somewhere before midnight. Technically, Saturday shouldbe my favorite day, but then again, the following day is Satan itself, Sunday, so the real MVP is Friday.
Which is why I’m kind of, sort of nearly bursting out of my skin with excitement.
I’ve even brought some extremely healthy dinner from the mansion’s kitchen after having nagged the cook to make it.
I didn’t use to care much about what I ate, but that was before the nagging machine that is Vaughn Morozov. He has something to say about everything I put in my mouth and gives me the side-eye when we shop for groceries and I fill the cart with chips. He also expels me to the balcony if I’m craving a smoke, so I’m not doing that often now.
Cruel bastard.
But really, the food is so we don’t waste time cooking. Besides, he’d rather make something in the kitchen than have me try a new recipe or eat some harmless chicken wings.
I love watching him roam around the kitchen in shorts only—yes, it’s a rule now. If I’m doing it and he checks me out all the time, he has to let me check him out, too—a demand he quickly gave in to.
The reason why I don’t like him to cook, however, is because he’ll be visibly tired from the flight and the long day he left behind but will still insist on fixing something at one or two in the morning just because I’ve ordered some greasy indulgence post sex against the wall.
Yup, I don’t have the patience to take the first round to bed. I pin him against the door or the sofa or the floor—any surface—and we’re fucking right there and then.
Vaughn tried to fight it the first few times, whining about going to the bedroom, but then he started to be theone who pins me the moment he’s in the house, matching my impatience with his own, harsh breaths rushing out of his lungs as he kisses me while ripping my clothes off.
And I love seeing him lose control for me, whispering in growly words how much he missed fucking me and being fucked by me. I love his shuddering breaths when he says I’m driving him insane, probably due to all the nudes I send him on the regular and how I only fall asleep with his voice in my ear as we talk on the phone.
It started with me demanding phone sex late at night my time, which is around early evening his time, but then we started to talk until the early hours of the morning and I just…find his voice so soothing, so I began using that as my pre-sleep ritual.
But truly, nothing beats seeing him in person, touching him, pressing against the hard ridges of his body, plunging into his welcoming heat as his deep hazel eyes bore into mine. Nothing beats the choked breaths he releases when he’s buried inside me as he plants tiny kisses on my arm or forehead or the corner of my mouth while whispering how beautiful I am.
How ethereal I feel.
How much he’s been thinking about this exact moment for days on end.
Does that drive me insane? Of course.
Vaughn used to whine about how I’m such a sexual animal who’s always ready to go again a few minutes after we’re done, but that’s not the norm for me. The only reason I’m insatiable is because our time together is limited, so I’d rather be fucking him the whole weekend.
Besides, he’s started to act the same, usually changingpositions as soon as he comes, just so we can go again soon.
And even though sex plays a huge part in what we have in that beautiful beach house, as Vaughn calls it, that’s not all there is to it.
We’ve made it a habit to go on late-night rides on Chaos—that he’s still so jealous of but has learned to hide it so I don’t tease him. Vaughn has grown to like those rides because we’re incognito behind the helmets, so I can squeeze his ass in public, and he can wrap himself all around me without worrying about anyone finding out who we are.
Sometimes we’ll go to that gas station where we held hands for the first time about three months ago. We also rode to the cliff where I nearly killed myself just to prove my sincerity and he scowled at my lack of self-preservation.
