Two Weeks Later
I STRETCH OUT, MY body sore and achy as I reach for the man that should be at my side. He isn’t there, and I open my eyes just to confirm that fact. After Oksana’s tragic wedding, we left the next morning.
Timfoei was on the plane with us, nursing a massive hangover, but Mika was nowhere to be found. I asked Ziven where he was more than once, and every time he gave me some bullshit reply, so I finally quit asking.
Mika still isn’t back, and as far as I know, nobody knows where he is. I talked to Ashley just yesterday, and she said that nobody has heard from Oksana, either. They’ve both just—vanished.
Ziven’s voice rings out through the condo, and I smile when my eyes finally land on his bare, tattooed back. He’s talking on the phone, but he’s cooking as well. From the smell, he’s making omelets, and my mouth waters because my husband can truly cook. While he adores my baking, I seriously adore his cooking.
Walking up behind him, I place my lips on the center of his back and then wrap my arms around his trim waist. He mutters something in Russian into the phone and then hangs up, dropping it on the counter with a clatter.
“Who were you talking to at such an early hour?” I ask with a yawn.
“Sergei, he’s a Pakhan in Russia. He was at the wedding,” he explains.
I hum as my hands drift down his taut stomach. One of them slides beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. I enjoy the way he sucks in his breath when I wrap my hand around his semi-erect cock and I gently stroke him. He left me satisfied last night, but I want more of him.
“Fuck, katyonak,” he hisses as he thrusts his hips gently.
I feel him moving around, and then he turns and wraps his hands around my waist, picking me up before he walks us over to the counter behind me. Without a word, he spreads my thighs and grins when he sees that I’m not wearing panties. In less than a second, he’s sinking inside of me.
I wrap my hands around his shoulders and let my head fall back as he fills me with his cock, stretching me. I wrap my legs around his waist, and his lips touch my neck as he starts to gently thrust into me, repeatedly.
“You feel so good, Ven,” I moan as he glides one hand under the shirt of his that I’m wearing to cup my breast.
I shiver when he tweaks my nipple and sucks on my neck at the exact same time.
“Touch your clit. Play that pussy of yours and come all over me,” he rasps against my skin.
I reach between us, my head tipping down to watch as his glistening cock pushes in and pulls out of my pussy, each stroke even and precise. I touch my finger to my clit and start to play with myself. His eyes are focused on our connection, watching me touch and bring myself that much closer to my climax.
“Fuck, katyonak, your cunt feels so good,” he rasps.
“I’m about to come,” I admit.
“Do it. Fucking strangle me, Quinn,” he says as his thrusts start to gain speed and power.
It doesn’t take me long. My legs start shaking before he even says my name, and then I’m right on the edge, tipping over and crying out as my pussy clamps down around him, trying to hold his cock inside of me.
“Yes,” he hisses as his hips start to buck wildly.
My fingers dig into his shoulders, and I just hold on and enjoy the ride he’s giving me until he stills. I feel his release spill inside of me with a groan escaping his lips.
“You ready to eat your eggs now?” he asks on a chuckle.
I tighten my thighs around him.
“Not yet, I like it when you’re inside me,” I whisper.
Ziven smiles and presses his lips to mine.
“Nowhere else I’d rather be, katyonak, then inside of my gorgeous wife.”
Nothing makes Quinn as tired as when she’s had a really great orgasm and her belly is full. After I fucked her in the kitchen, we cleaned up, ate some breakfast, and I fucked her one more time.
Sundays have become my favorite day of the week. They used to mean that the weekend was over, that it was time to get everything ready for the new workweek.
However, now, Sundays mean I get to fuck my wife all day long. During the week, I try to be home by a decent hour, but that doesn’t always happen; so we always—always, have Sundays to catch up with each other.
Quinn has started taking massage therapy courses. Kristy encouraged her to go to beauty school, but she doesn’t really like to do hair or makeup. Though, she liked the idea of doing something in the industry, with the understanding that she would only have female clients, something I would not relent on.
So, after a little searching, she found this school. I don’t care what she does, as long as she’s happy and healthy. Quinn’s health and happiness are the most important things in the world to me.
This was her first week at school, and she is still nervous and stressed out, so I’m fucking her into relaxation.
I make my way into my office and pick up my phone after closing my office door.
“Vetrov,” Pasha answers after the first ring.
“They’re in Russia,” I rumble.
“What the fuck are they doing there?” he growls.
“I don’t know, but Oksana is refusing to come home until she ensures her freedom from you,” I say.
I fight to keep a straight face. This shit is beyond ridiculous.
“She’ll come home or I’ll drag her ass there, and she won’t be happy what happens to her if that is the way I get her back to New York.”
“She’s a legal adult, Pasha,” I try to sooth.
“Fuck that. She’s a printsessa, my daughter, and she cannot choose a goddamn thing about her life. That’s for me to decide,” he announces.
Sonia is probably rolling over in her grave right now at her husband’s words and actions, but I don’t have any kind of death wish, so I don’t say those words aloud.
“Maybe she’s safer there, Pasha,” I offer.
“She’s with Mika?” he asks.
“She is.”
“He’s putting his dick inside of her, so she’s not safer. I want her home, where nobody touches her without my fucking say so.”
“She’s under Sergei’s protection, and though he told me she was there and safe, he didn’t say he’d be sending her back,” I murmur.
“I’ll take care of this. We work together, we don’t work against each other, and this is separate. This is family,” he announces before he ends the call.
I shake my head.
Fuck.
Mika has really made a cluster fuck of his already cluster fuck of a situation. Though, when I think about how I feel for Quinn, I can’t say that I wouldn’t do the same for her. I would. I would do whatever it took to have her by my side.
I’ve killed for her, I’ve kidnapped her, and I’ve let her go—all because I’ve loved her. I would do it all again, too. If that meant that she’d for certain end up passed out from too many orgasms, my ring on her finger, her sharing my last name—I’d do it all over again.
For her.