Rodion and Niko joined us there too, and when we all sat at the table, I got served more than just my plate of nigiri. My husband’s hand snaked under the table, caressing my thigh idly as he carried out the conversation with his friends. It’s a simple gesture he started doing recently when we’re out in public—possessive, yet caring and protective.
When he did it again that night, my stomach fluttered in recognition. It showed me I was constantly on his mind, even if he seemed lost in the table conversation. I loved it.
And I especially loved it when, out of nowhere, he caressed my kneecap, pulling my thighs apart. My breath halted, and I looked around the table, worried the others might have seen. They hadn’t. I shifted in my seat, sipping on my drink as his warm fingers crawled higher up my leg.
“You know how they are. Always prying,” Mikhail said to Rodion, a conversation I had tuned out of in favor of his touches.I couldn’t react, couldn’t risk letting the others know what was happening under the table, that I was allowing it. My thighs had succumbed to Mikhail’s pull, exposing me to whatever he planned on doing to me.
“Did you say something, sweetheart?” my husband asked, throwing me a knowing look.
He didn’t have to be more explicit than that. I knew he was asking for my safe word, and I knew very well I wasn’t going to say it.
“No.” I pushed my hair behind my ear, taking a nervous sip of my drink.
“My bad, then.” He smiled, and his fingers pressed at my lace thong, pushing into my soft pussy. I swallowed a whimper, wishing desperately my panties weren’t in the way. “Bathroom’s over there. You asked about it earlier.”
I hadn’t, but the fact that he could read my mind so easily, knew exactly what my body needed, made me shake my head at him in surprise. I excused myself and went, taking off my panties in an empty, fancy stall.
It wasn’t my proudest moment, and neither was the walk back to the table, knowing that beneath my dress, my pussy pulsed with the kind of need only my husband could satiate.
I passed a full-length mirror just then, and I saw myself in a completely different light.
My short hair was hanging to my shoulders, different from the length it once was, my lips fuller than usual from all the blood swarming there. A velvet-black dress left my thighs half-exposed, showing me exactly where Mikhail’s hand had been just moments earlier, like an invisible mark only I could see.
Instead of feeling ashamed, I smiled a little, realizing I didn’t want to be someone else for once. I was starting to love the person I was seeing in the mirror, to understand her and show her grace.
So what if I wanted to go with Mikhail’s wild ideas? I needed to explore this new side of me I had never met. And he knew, I supposed, which is why he was the one person who could lead me somewhere dangerous without ever caging me.
I eyed him from a distance, sitting in that chair with his dark, charming aura. He burned like a torch, like a flame ablaze surrounded by dying embers. No wonder I couldn’t take my eyes off him…or that I wanted him to burn us both.
After I finishmy piano practice for the day, Mikhail enters our bedroom, appearing in the vanity mirror behind me. He’s early tonight, much earlier than usual, but I don’t complain. Instead, I let him press his lips to the back of my shoulder, and I shiver.
“Hey,” he murmurs, raking his nose against the crook of my neck, breathing me in like he missed me.
I offer him a shy smile as I smear moisturizer over my face. “Hi.”
Throwing his phone on the bed, he begins peeling off his clothes, starting with his sweatshirt, revealing a taut abdomen and bulging muscles developed by chaos and violence. The tattoos on his neck stretch out towards his chest, while the ones on his arms go all the way up to his shoulders. When he works to unbuckle his belt, his back clenches deliciously, demonstrating a hint of the strength he possesses.
I don’t realize I’m staring until he catches my gaze, his pants low on his hips, revealing the V that leads toward the hard bulge beneath the material.
“See something you like?” he asks, peppering more kisses over my shoulder on his way to the en-suite bathroom. It’s quick—rushed, almost distant—and it triggers a line of anxiousthoughts in my head. I know he usually takes his time to kiss me when he comes home.
“I need a shower,” he says. “Be naked in our bed when I’m back.”
I nod, my pussy fluttering at that deep voice and the clean command as the sound of streaming water fills the space.
Standing from the vanity, I bring my hands to the straps of the nightgown as I take the few steps toward the bed. But just before I pull them down, Mikhail’s phone vibrates on the sheets, lighting up with a string of messages in what appears to be a group chat.
Niko: What am I supposed to say to Wolfgang?
Niko: I can’t take myself off this job just because you asked.
Niko: Let me at least come with you to LA. Don’t be a fucking idiot again.
Rodion: *sigh* Do I even want to know?
Niko: Another one of his suicide missions. He’s pissing me off. Wants to go hunt that asshole by himself.
I pick up the phone, reading them again, my pulse quickening. Suicide mission? What the hell are they talking about? Who is my husband going after?
