by Nicole Fox
I walk over to the lingerie drawer in the closet. Nikita is in for a surprise. It’s funny to think how closed off I use to be, how my roommates had to drag me out to a club, and force me to get dressed up. And now, I have an entire freaking dresser full of the sexiest lingerie that I love wearing. Maybe I just love showing off my baby bump to the man I love. But somehow, I’ve become more comfortable in my own skin.
“Annie?”
“What did I say about hovering? Calm down and give me a second.”
His growl reverberates into the closet. There’s something sexy about the way he gets mad at me when he doesn’t get what he wants the very damn second he wants it. And there are times I hold out until he begs because I find that sexy as well.
I grab the powder-blue thong and lace baby doll and slip it on. Then I walk over to the full-length mirror and fluff my hair. Everything needs to be perfect. After applying some vanilla bean lip balm, I grab the collar from its hook and clip it on.
Nikita doesn’t own me, he never has, but now I choose to be his slave. It’s something he enjoys—and enjoys only with me, that’s one rule I made—and I want him to be happy. Plus, it’s been an eye-opening experience. To completely surrender to another, to trust that person wholly, is something I never thought I’d be able to do. But here I am, doing just that with Nikita.
I sashay out of the closet and pose against the door frame, accentuating my larger breasts—thank you, future son or daughter—and twirl a lock of my hair around my finger. Nikita sits up in bed, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. When I bite my lower lip, his Adam’s apple bobs visibly as he swallows. But that isn’t the only thing visible. The way the sheets pitch over his crotch makes my skin flush.
He’s hard as a rock for me.
“So, do you like?” I take a step forward and turn in a slow circle so he can view all sides of me.
He doesn’t say a word and just nods.
I laugh. Never has Nikita been at a loss for words. I quirk a brow as I make my way towards the bed. “Worth the wait, huh?”
“It always is.”
I crawl onto the mattress and over to him. I brush my lips over the tip of his cock, still hidden under the sheets, and his body jerks as a low groan passes through his lips. “Someone’s sure worked up.”
“Little bird, you have no idea what you do to me. How sexy you are.” His baritone voice cracks, telling me just how needy my baby’s daddy is.
I straddle him and gently press my lips to his. Our kiss is tender. Nikita cups my face with his hands and pulls away, lifting my face so our eyes meet. We stare at one another in silence and then his fingers fall to the collar around my neck.
“It means the world to me that you would surrender yourself to me. That you’d be mine. My property. My woman.” His fingers trace the pink bejeweled leather until they’re on the buckle in the back. He clicks it and the collar falls from my neck. “But I want to know you’re here because you want to be, not because I paid for you.”
“Nikita,” I say, taking his hand in mine and placing it on my belly. “We’re going to be a family. I want to be with my child’s father, with the man who risked his life to save me and protect me. I love you. And I choose to be here.”
Nikita smiles at me and my heart melts. There are times he becomes insecure in our love, and the emotion conflicts with the tough man he is when it comes to the business, but it just shows he’s also tender and cares for those around him.
I lean in and kiss him again. His hands remain on my belly and his lips remain closed. For a moment, I wonder what’s caught his attention since he’s not really into the kiss, but then I feel it. That pressure. That annoyance. Our child is kicking me yet again. And Nikita is in heaven.
I roll my eyes and slap his shoulder. “I’m here trying to be sexy, to get my needs met. And now you’re poking my belly in an attempt to play with the baby.”
Nikita looks up and me, his face contorted into an expression that reminds me of a child being reprimanded after being caught eating a snack before dinner. I pull his hand away from my belly and place it on my ass, pushing my breasts into his chest. “Now, can I have your full attention?”
Nikita smiles and scoots me up higher on his hips so he can shimmy his briefs off. I kiss him, gently at first, my hands in his hair, and then deepen the sweet kiss, tangling our tongues. His hands lift my ass and he pulls back, his eyes on mine as he flips us over.
I wrap my arms around him and run my hands up and down his back, from his ass to his thick hair, and back down again, while I rub his thighs with the soles of my feet. I can’t stop touching him, rubbing myself against him. “You feel so good.”
“Let me make love to you, little bird.” He nibbles my lips, along my jawline, and over to my left ear. I tilt my head, giving him easier access to this sensitive spot, and he licks under my ear where he knows his touch makes me crazy. “I love how you smell, Annie. So soft and clean and sweet. Like apricots and honey.” His teeth clench gently onto my earlobe and I squirm under him. “You feel so damn good, sweetheart. So smooth and firm and small.”
His words are intoxicating me, making love to me as thoroughly as his body is, and my heart rate speeds up and my breathing quickens.
“Nikita,” I whisper.
“I can’t get enough of you.” His hips start to move in a slow circle, rubbing his hard, thick cock along my folds, and I arch my back, pushing against him.
“Nikita, I need you.” I grip his firm ass in my hands and pull him against me, almost coming undone at the sensation of his long shaft rubbing my lips and the head of his cock making my clit pulsate, an orgasm working its way through me.
“So beautiful,” he whispers against my neck, and pushes his forearms under my shoulders so he’s cradling me, his hands cupping my neck and fingers pushed up into my hair. He holds on and pushes harder, faster, rubbing himself against me. “I love making you come like this.”
“Oh God,” I whisper. Our voices are soft; we’re panting quietly, making love almost reverently. I feel tears pool in my eyes and I close them, the tears spilling down my temples.
“Little bird, don’t cry.” He settles his lips on mine again, rubs them back and forth, caressing me and then kissing me sweetly, softly. “Come for me.”
I come apart, my body quaking and pushing against him. He deepens his kiss and pulls his hips down, finding my opening with the tip of his cock and pushing into me, so, so slowly until he fills me completely. He sinks into me to the root of his cock and stops.
“Open your eyes.”
His eyes are on fire, looking down at me with such love, and more tears leak out of my eyes.
“Your eyes are the most brilliant I’ve ever seen, and they sparkle even more since you’ve become pregnant.” He moans and his gaze never falters. “I love it when you look at me like this.”
“How am I looking at you?” I whisper and push my fingers into his thick hair, loving how it feels to have my head and shoulders cradled in his arms and his body draped over mine, filled up with him.
“Like I’m all you see,” he whispers back to me.
I run my fingers down his face and cup his cheeks in my hands, looking him square in the eye, not paying any attention to the tears on my face. “You are all I see.”
He growls softly and kisses me desperately. His pelvis begins to move, slowly pulling in and out of me. I grip his ass in my hands again and I feel another orgasm building up in me. He must feel it too, because he moves faster, and pushes into me a bit harder with each thrust.
“Let go, Annie,” he murmurs.
“Come with me,” I whisper.
He groans and pins me with his raw eyes, and he pushes into me twice, three times, and then grinds himself against my clit as he spills into me, and I come apart beneath him, not taking my gaze from his, as my body shudders around him.
“Oh my God,” I whisper as my body calms.
He collapses onto me and buries his face in my neck. “God, I love you,
Annie.”
***
I awake to soft sheets, and the morning light trickled in through the blinds. Shedding the remaining glimpses of a dream, I soak in the warmth of my covers. My arm reaches to the space next to me only to find Nikita’s not in bed. But his smell still lingers and I inhale and smile.
Down the hall, there are pots banging and I’m sure the staff is preparing breakfast. Nikita must’ve gone to work early, letting me sleep in. These days, I need my rest, even taking a couple of naps throughout the day. The baby is growing rapidly and my body drains of energy quicker than usual.
But I’m hungry, so I hoist myself from my comfy place and throw on a robe before heading downstairs. The cool tile on my feet is soothing. But I’m not prepared for the scene before me. Out on the terrace is the most beautiful setup I’ve ever seen, better than the first dinner I ever had with Nikita.
Jasmine flowers line the terrace; nothing is more perfect to me. Five white petals with sunshine yellow in the middle. Their fragrance is like a drug. It gives me a high, my brain buzzing—happy, serene.
The entire place looks like a fairy-tale garden, complete with teacups and large candles. Even the powder-pink tablecloth adds to the fantasy feel. An empty, rustic birdcage sits in the corner like the ones people use at weddings to place the cards they receive in. When did Nikita have time to set this all up?
There are also flowers on the table. They’re fresh, some open and others in bud. I love to watch how the sunlight brings a brightness to each petal it touches and a shine upon the deep green foliage.
“I was hoping you’d like them,” Nikita comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, his hands settling on my belly. He kisses my cheek and escorts me to the table.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Just a breakfast date with my woman.” Nikita takes my hand and pulls out my chair, helping me sit since my belly is big and getting in and out of chairs isn’t the easiest act anymore.
The servers bring us plates of eggs and toast. A bowl of cut fresh fruit is placed in the middle of the table full of strawberries, blueberries, melons, and grapes. A glass of orange juice and water are set next to me.
“Did you sleep well?” Nikita asks before taking a bite of his food.
My cheeks burn and I nod as I drink some of the orange juice, praying I don’t choke on it. I slept as well as I could, given that he insisted on having sex with me three other times throughout the night.
After placing my napkin in my lap, I dig into my food, barely chewing it. I’m not sure if it’s myself or the baby or both of us that are starving, but I can’t get the food into my stomach fast enough. I barely chew my scrambled eggs, opting to just swallow them as they’re so soft and fluffy. Nikita chuckles from across the table.
“You better slow down before you choke.”
I snort. “Tell that to the little one. He or she is just as hungry, and your plate has just become my next target.”
I reach across and stick my fork into a piece of his bacon and shove it into my mouth before he has a chance to say anything.
“If you keep stuffing yourself, you’ll miss the best part.”
I quirk my eyebrow and stare at him. The best part? What has this man been up to as I was sleeping? I narrow my eyes at him and he breaks out into a series of snorting chuckles. So sexy ... not. But before I can ask him what his little secret is, a familiar scent floods my nose.
Cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and sweet icing.
One of the men places a box down and I tear it open to find my favorite meal of all time, and the one thing I have been craving all month. I pull the large cinnamon bun from its confines and bring it to my mouth, biting a chunk out of it. When I lower it to my plate, Nikita reaches over with his fork and I smack his hand away as I lick the frosting from my lips.
“Mine!” I growl playfully.
He stands and walks toward me. “Maybe you should eat that thing more slowly.” He sounds kind of weird. Nervous, almost.
“Why, so you can try to steal some? Nuh-uh, mister. Back off.” I take another mouthful and chew.
Nikita rolls his eyes and swipes at some of the frosting piling up on the side of my lips. “Annie, take smaller bites. Please!”
“Whatever.” I bite into heaven once again and this time as I chew my teeth hit something rough. Fuck. I grab my napkin and spit the chewed bun out. “What the hell is this?”
I pick through my chewed food to find the culprit that nearly cracked my tooth when a shiny stone sparkles in the sunlight. The air rushes from my lungs and I just hold my palm open. Nikita takes the item from my hand and cleans it off with his napkin.
“You know, I meant this to be romantic, hiding an engagement ring in something your eyes glaze over for. But I never expected you to eat like it’s going out of style.” He shakes his head and chuckles. Then he drops to one knee. “I want us to be a family—officially. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and raise our children in a loving home. I want to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every evening. You make me whole in every way. Annie Thornton, will you marry me?”
I spring out of my chair and it tips over and hits the terrace floor with a bang. I launch myself into Nikita’s arms and he stumbles backwards as I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. “Yes!”
THE END
***
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Roman
Each of us is born with a gift. A special talent. Some people act, some people dance, some people sing a fucking jingle.
Me, on the other hand... I kill.
And tonight is another chance to show the world my gift.
Waiting is the worst part of this job. Memories are the only thing that helps pass the time. Leaning against the exterior wall of this night club, the memory of my first kill comes back to me. Like most of my memories, it ends with blood.
It was late August, when the weather was finally starting to get colder and the city folk began trading t-shirts for flannels and jackets. My father took my brothers and me hunting for the first time. We’d spent a good few months learning how to shoot both guns and arrows, and he wanted to see how well we’d taken after our lessons.
The crunch of leaves under my boots was so vivid that I can feel the texture of them to this day. The wind whipped our faces as we hiked from our truck through the hills until finally, we stumbled into a bit of clearing. At first, there wasn’t much to see. A squirrel clung to a large oak tree. A collection of rocks growing moss on the sides. My father asked us if we saw anything. We said no.
“Then look harder.”
That’s when I saw the tiny brown rabbit pressed against the trunk of a tree, quietly nibbling food. My father gave me a look. As the oldest, I knew what it meant. I’d seen it plenty of times before. Narrowed eyes, lips pulled into a thin, straight line. I had to set the example.
Quietly, I pulled an arrow from my quiver and nocked it, pulling back the bowstring. I steadied myself and set my jaw, holding the position until I could feel the right moment to strike. The air in my chest stopped and I felt the world begin to disappear, every external distraction ceasing to exist. Then I let go.
The arrow sliced through the air in silence. Before my brothers Gedeon and Ivan could blink, the rabbit was dead, pinned to the tree.
I let out a breath and glanced at my father. The only indication that I’d done a good job was the short nod of his head, the most subtle of compliments. It was enough to satisfy me – for a moment. One rabbit alone wasn’t enough, however. I wanted more. I wanted
bigger, more dangerous.
We worked our way up from there. My brothers didn’t have a knack for the killing, nor did they like it the way I did. Raccoons. Deer. Elk. Even a bear once, with a perfect shot through its eye. My father seemed pleased with my skill. For years, we honed it, improving how quietly I moved, how long I waited before pulling the trigger, savoring the exhilarating feeling of a perfect strike.
Like all good things in my life, however, it didn’t last. My father didn’t last, either. It took the murder of my family to push me onto the pursuit of the most dangerous game of all: men.
My father had two brothers, Aleksandr and Andrei. Even as a child, I felt the tension. They never stopped by the house unless there was trouble and they needed their big brother to come and fix their messes. Everything with them seemed to be business exchanges, no warmth or familiarity. They always bothered me. I was right to be suspicious of them.
The night they proved that, I’d been in the hospital with stomach pains. Food poisoning of some kind, nothing too serious. When the nurse stepped in with an officer, I thought I’d done something wrong. But they weren’t there to chastise me. They were there to tell me that my parents and younger brothers had been murdered.
They didn’t say by whom, or why, or answer any of the other million questions I had. They just told me that I couldn’t go home. Police were there investigating. My uncles were on their way to pick me up.
None of it made sense. I was a kid, and in my mind, this was all some weird medically-induced dream. Or rather, a nightmare. But that solemn look on the nurse’s face is seared into my memory like a cattle brand. She looked down at me with pity. And I knew she was telling the truth.
For a long time, I never knew exactly what happened. My uncles comforted me and helped when they could, but at seventeen years old, I was nearly an adult. I could live on my own. For a while, I managed. I rebuilt. I took my shit-covered situation and made it work. That’s how I always was. I got by.
But then I learned the truth. It wasn’t a random act of violence that stole my family from me. It wasn’t some fucked-up junkie looking for a score, or a home invader with the wrong address.
