I close my eyes, nodding, clinging to her words like God himself is speaking to me.
We go on for a few more minutes, and she makes me promise to call her whenever I need to talk again. Then, my husband returns, and I’m glad I don’t have time to retreat into myself. Distracting myself, I realize, feels slightly better than staying in my head.
“You don’t have to drink this, but fuck,Lastochka, I’m willing to do anything for you to take a few sips,” Mikhail says, handing me a fruit smoothie.
I look up at him, seeing the concern displayed all over his handsome face, and take it. When I smell the pineapple and banana, I don’t feel nauseous like before. So, I bring the glass to my lips and take a few sips…until the glass ends up being half empty.
44
Mikhail
At two in the morning, I’m down into the heated pool area on the first floor, a towel wrapped around my naked shoulders. I couldn’t sleep. Too many things are going through my head at once, and the only thing I can do for now is wait. I fucking hate waiting.
Throwing the towel on a nearby lounge chair, I shuffle to the edge of the pool and plunge. A loud splash ripples behind me as I submerge myself completely, the water growling in my ears, brushing my skin with small waves. Then, silence.
Time slows, and when my body floats to the bottom, I don’t resist it.
I’ve been here before, alone and wanting to find meaning in the pain that followed me everywhere. When you’re desperate, you’ll try anything. Drugs. Pussy. Booze. Even healthy shit like night swimming. Nothing ever works, yet this has been the only thing that can distract me without making me feel slow in the morning. So, here I am.
My lungs begin to hurt, begging for oxygen. Slowly, I push into the floor and swim up, breaking the smooth surface with the top of my head. I throw my hair back, shaking it off, the dim blue light of the room and the steam enveloping me.
Exhaustion gnaws at me, the water pulling at the stitches in my shoulder where Remus shot me—a reminder of the plans that haven’t been wrapped up.
Fucker is supposed to go to war with Antonio soon, yet my focus is nowhere near getting back Chicago. The only thing I care about is for Maksim to send me those fucking files already so I can help my wife. It’s been a few days already, and if he doesn’t call by morning, I’m going over there to see him.
Footsteps echo through the open space behind me, and I turn, surprised to see my wife standing next to the pool. She’s wrapped in a big, soft towel, appearing to be naked underneath. My cock quadruples in size, and I try my hardest to ignore it.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I ask, swimming to the edge.
She steps forward, shrugging. “I woke up alone and asked Svetlana for you. I’m tired of being with these awful thoughts.”
Me too, Lastochka. Me too.
“Do you mind if I join you? Or would you rather be alone?”
“You never have to ask,” I say, swallowing at the sight of her hands preparing to unwrap the towel. “Come here.” A small smile frames her face, and she turns around, doing exactly that, revealing her back to me like the goddess she is.
Fuck.
The pool lights dance across her glowing skin, casting shadows across her round ass and hourglass figure. From this position, I can see the lips of her pussy and the sides of her breasts before she fully turns to face me, her arm clasped around them. I smile, loving the way she’s still shy around me.
“I never got around to ordering a bathing suit online,” she confesses, a blush creeping into her cheeks.
I cock my head, watching her up and down. “Sweetheart?”
“Y-Yes?”
“Sit down.”
She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, obeying, slowly dipping her feet into the warm water as her naked ass makes contact with the edge of the pool. Her creamy thighs clamp together, keeping her pussy mostly concealed as she looks down at me with those big chocolate eyes.
“What were you doing here so late?” she asks.
Ignoring her question, I wrap my hands around her legs, sliding up until I reach her thighs and gently pry them apart.
Her breathing hikes, and the scent of her slightly damp, aroused pussy makes me groan. If I were a better man, I’d let her rest and fuck my fist tonight, but I’ve never claimed to be anything other than a villain. It’s what I was wary of in the first place, before I set myself loose and claimed her for the very first time. This is the consequence.
“Mikhail…” she whimpers.
