He rests his forehead against mine while I stroke his cock, feeling him grow even more rigid in my hand. His hips shift with my movements. Then he pulls away from me and grins as he reaches for the button of my jeans. Quietly, he unbuttons, unzips, and gently tugs off my pants before sliding my panties down my thighs.
I close my eyes, expecting him to climb over the top of me. I gasp when I feel his tongue slide through my center instead—his hands pressing against the insides of my thighs as he spreads them to give him more room.
“Mikhail,” I gasp as my hands reach for his hair.
He doesn’t respond with words. He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I throw back my head, my fingers tightening their grip in his hair as I moan.
Unashamedly, I grind against his mouth, wanting to be close, needing more of him. He slips two fingers inside of me while his tongue concentrates on my clit, and I shiver. His fingers make a come-hither motion inside of me, sending chills over my body.
It’s too much, and yet, not enough all at the same time.
When Mika’s teeth graze my clit and he sucks hard, harder than he ever has, I explode against his tongue. I grip his hair so tightly that I’m sure I pulled some strands out by the root; and my legs, they shake uncontrollably. It’s the biggest orgasm I’ve ever had.
Mika still doesn’t say anything as he lifts my completely boneless legs up and wraps them around his hips. He guides himself inside of me and stills once he’s planted to the root.
“I killed the head of the Cartel,” he rasps, wrapping a hand in the back of my hair, resting his other hand on my hip.
“Mika,” I breathe.
“I killed him for this,” he murmurs as he slides out and then slams back inside of me. “For your cunt,” he growls repeating the motion. “For your big blue eyes staring up at me,” he grinds out as he slams inside of me again, this time grinding his pelvis against my clit, making me moan. “For you, Oksana, always for you. I’d do anything for you,” he rasps.
He loses complete control and starts to thrust with all of his strength, making my body jerk with each slap of his hips against me. I slide my hands up his arms and hold onto the sides of his neck while he continues, his eyes burning into mine—his face so serious and jaw clenched.
“I would do anything for you too, Mikhail,” I say on a moan.
“My forever,” he grunts.
I dig my nails into the back of his neck while he wildly fucks me, taking everything that I’m happily, offering him. I feel an orgasm building again, and I know that it’s going to completely obliterate me. I squeeze my legs a little tighter around him as it bubbles to the surface, and then his hand slides from my hip to press his thumb against my clit. I cry out with my climax.
Mika moves his hand and thrusts his hips a few more times before he stills on a groan. His hand tightens in my hair, and then he falls above me. It takes me a moment to catch my breath, especially with Mika’s weight pressing against me, but I don’t want to ask him to move.
His hand leaves my hair and travels down to my thigh, still wrapped around his waist, and I shiver when he starts to stroke my skin.
“It’s fucking over,” he murmurs against my neck as his lips touch me.
“It is,” I agree. “My father?”
“Delivered the head to him personally. It’s why I didn’t arrive home earlier,” he rumbles as he slides out of me.
“I was so worried,” I admit as I turn to face him.
I watch as he walks to the bathroom. He isn’t gone for long, and comes back with a damp cloth, sliding it between my legs before he tosses it toward the open bathroom door. Then he gathers me in his arms and drags me up the bed, until my head is resting on a pillow and he’s wrapped around me, half of his body plastered to half of mine.
“Tell me everything that happened,” I urge.
Mika starts from the beginning, and I can’t believe he’s telling me as much as he is, but I listen with rapt attention. It’s fascinating. When he’s finished, he grins and touches his mouth to mine.
“Holy crap. Konstantin is a spy?”
“Are you hungry?” he asks on a chuckle.
“Mika, tell me,” I demand.
“Nyet, lapochka. You already know more than you should.”
“Then, yes, I’m hungry,” I sigh. He laughs a little harder.
“You have anything here, or do I need to order in?”
I bite my lip, knowing that there isn’t much in the house, unless Mika can really cook. I’ve exhausted my limited kitchen abilities of grilled cheese, baked chicken, fresh fruit and salad. I can basically cut things up, and I know that chicken needs to cook until it’s no longer pink in the middle.
“Italian?” he asks.
“I would kill for Italian,” I moan.
“Let me pull up the menu so you can order what you want. This is the best place in town,” he murmurs as he touches some buttons on his phone before he hands it to me.
Angelos Tavern.
The menu looks heavenly, and I find that I’m having a hard time deciding between the Suck my Kiss pizza, and the Pappardelle Bolognese dish.
“I’ll share the pizza, lapochka,” Mika whispers against my ear.
“How’d you know?” I ask.
“You enlarged it and have been staring at it. You want it, I’ll share. I’ll order that Bolognese, and you can have some of that, too,” he offers. I reward him with a huge smile and an enthusiastic nod.
Mika takes the phone from me and I take my shirt and bra off before I snuggle back in the bed, resting my head against the pillows, letting sleep pull me under, wishing to only rest my eyes for a moment.
“Oksana,” Mika’s voice shouts from another room. I sit up, looking around in a panic, the sheet falling down my chest and into my lap.
“Oksana get the fuck in here,” he roars. My heart starts to slam against my chest.
I rush around, grabbing a short cotton night gown, and run out into the other room. Mika is standing next to the bar, a bag of takeout on the counter—but that isn’t his focus. No, his focus is on the slip of paper in his hand. I know what it is from where I’m standing.
“What is this?” he asks, staring at the paper.
“A baby,” I whisper.
“Who’s baby?”
“Ours,” I admit, unsure if he’s going to be happy or mad about the information.
“Oksana, this says sixteen weeks,” he rumbles.
I shuffle my feet, closing the distance between us, and wrap my hand around the forearm that’s holding the sonogram.
“My engagement party. I didn’t know. I’ve been so stressed out that I missed the signs,” I admit. His eyes finally lift to meet mine.
I almost gasp when our eyes connect. His are glazed with tears shining in them. This man, he owns every part of me, and now a part of him is inside of me, growing.
“All this time,” he rasps. “All this fucking time, and you’ve been carrying my child?”
“A boy,” I murmur with a nod.
“A boy,” he repeats before he drops the paper. It flutters to the floor but I don’t watch it as Mika pulls me into his arms and shoves his face in my neck. “Fuck,” he whispers.
“Are you happy?” I ask nervously as I wrap my own arms around him.
His hands immediately wrap around my shoulders, and he pushes me back slightly, knocking me off balance. I reach out to wrap my fingers around his wrists, my eyes wide with surprise.
“Oksana, I thought coming home to you, free to do so without the threat of you being taken away from me hanging over my head; was the happiest I could ever be in my life. I was so fucking wrong. So goddamn wrong. You’re carrying my boy and that, lapochka, that is the best feeling in the whole fucking world,” he says, ending his speech on a rasp.
“Mikhail, I love you so much,” I whisper.
“I love you, too, Oksana. My forever,” he says, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck
and crashes his lips against mine in a rough, bruising kiss.
My thighs shake, and I have to press them together as his tongue forces its way into my mouth. I moan when his other hand slides to my lower back and presses me against him, forcing my feet to move so that I’m flush with his front.
I ache for him as he devours every single part of my mouth. He groans as his hand slides to the back of my hair, and he tilts my head so that he can deepen the kiss even more, as if he doesn’t already consume my entire body.
Mika nibbles on my lips before he releases me. He then gives me a cocky smile before his hands leaves my hair and he slides it between us to rest on my still flat stomach.
“I can’t believe I put a baby inside of you,” he murmurs.
“Well, to be fair, it was both of our doing,” I smile.
“Mmm yes,” he murmurs as if he’s agreeing for the sake of agreement and not because he truly believes it. “Let’s get you fed,” he rumbles.
“Where do you want to eat?”
“The table,” he says. I nod as I take the food over to the table.
“Do you want a plate?” I ask, looking between the box of pizza and pasta container.
“Nyet. We’ll just eat out of those,” he murmurs as he comes toward me, a beer in one hand and a water in the other.
I shrug, not wishing to rinse off and put dishes away anyway. My mother would have a fit, but I’m not as proper as my mama was. I think about my mama for a second, allowing myself to indulge in her memory. A wave of sadness washes over me as I realize she won’t get to meet her grandchild.
“What’s this?” Mika asks as he touches his finger to my nose.
I look down as I bite the corner of my lip, “Mama won’t ever be able to meet this baby.”
“Don’t you think that perhaps Sonia sent this boy to us to love? I’d like to think that the people who love us in heaven, that they watch over us and send us gifts, like this child,” he says. It makes me fall in love with him just a little bit more.
“That’s beautiful,” I murmur.
“Now eat, yeah?”
I grin and I do eat, far too much, but it’s all delicious. I catch Mika staring at me more than once, that cocky smile of his in place as he watches me shovel food in my mouth. He never says anything about it, but later when we head to bed, he wraps me in his arms and whispers his words of love again. Then he tells me, again, how happy he truly is right here and now.
THE CHURCH, THE CLUB that Ziven owns, is buzzing tonight. It’s not normally a place I would hang out while it’s open. There are too many people, and clubs just aren’t typically my style.
Tonight, though, I’m grinning like a fool as I watch Oksana, Quinn, and Leonie dance together. No man is near them, as Ustin and Ony are on watch, keeping the men of the club at bay.
“I can’t believe I’d never brought Quinn here in the past,” Ziven says with a chuckle.
“She wouldn’t have been ready before now,” I state.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he nods.
“Anything from Konstantin?” I ask.
It’s been two weeks since I set down the severed head of El Patron and walked out of Pasha’s office. He’s probably still pissed with me, but that’s his own fucking shit, not mine.
“Just that Pasha has been ranting about the way you betrayed him. Apparently, he even called Sergei.”
“And?” I ask with wide eyes, surprised that Pasha called the other Pakhan.
“He’s still fucking crazy; he’s completely unstable,” Ziven murmurs, shaking his head. “Sergei told him to get his shit together, but apparently, he hasn’t. He also hasn’t called the hit off on you,” Ziven admits.
“Fuck,” I curse as I look over at Oksana.
She’s blissfully unaware of everything, happily dancing with her friends. Her little belly has begun to round over the past couple of weeks. Even though she just looks like she’s over eaten her dinner, I know, without a doubt, that my child grows inside of her.
“Nobody knows who he’s hired. Konstantin said he’s trying to find out, but he has to be careful of asking too many questions,” Ziven says. I nod my understanding.
Too many questions would out Konstantin. If he was suspected of spying, or Pasha didn’t trust him, we wouldn’t have any information at all coming our way.
“Sergei lends his full support for whatever we aim to do. He’s pushing for a takeover, just FYI,” Ziven informs. “Are you going to tell Oksana?”
“No,” I snort. “She’s been focused on trying to get things ready for the baby. She doesn’t need more stress coming her way.”
“You have a while before the baby arrives, don’t you?” Ziven, asks furrowing his brow.
“Over four months. She thinks because she just found out that she’s behind. I let her do what she wants. This weekend I’m painting the nursery,” I grunt.
“You’re staying at the condo?” he asks in surprise.
“I thought about buying a house, but with shit being unstable right now, I think it’s best Oksana is in a secure building.”
“Smart. I think we should all stay in the building until we know more about your hit and Pasha in general,” Ziven suggests. “Also, I’ve put in a call to Sergei about keeping Ustin on in my crew.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s good; a great fucking Krysha. I’d like to promote him to a Boyevik,” he rumbles.
Ziven’s right. Ustin is a great enforcer, but I do think that he would make a good warrior, as well. He’s smart, knows several languages, and with time, he could even become a Brigadier.
“I’d like him on my crew,” I say.
“Nowhere else he’d be, Mika,” Ziven chuckles as he slaps his hand against my back.
We watch the girls in silence for a few more songs, but the crowd starts to grow heavier as the night moves on. I can feel the air move from a hum to a vibrate, and I know that it is time for us to leave. Ziven must feel the same because we start to walk toward the women at the exact same time.
I slip my hand around Oksana’s stomach from behind and start to move my hips with hers. She rests one hand on mine and reaches up to wrap her other around the back of my neck. I hum to the music as I press my lips to her neck. She, in turn, presses a kiss to the underside of my jaw.
“You ready to go home, mama?” I ask against her ear.
“I’m ready. My feet are killing me,” she confesses as she turns in my arms.
“I’ll give you a massage, lapochka,” I offer. Her face lights up and a bright smile appears on her lips.
“Yay,” she breathes before pressing her mouth to mine.
I watch as she tells her friends goodbye; then, together, we leave the club.
The Church is fucking great, a great club that brings in a ton of cash, and a great front for our other businesses. I don’t foresee us doing anything else in the future. This club has become the it place the past few months. Not that it wasn’t okay before we bought it, but it went from okay, to the place to be. We host celebrities, famous athletes, and people pay to just be in the club with who they consider the elite.
It’s a fucking goldmine.
I drive us back to our condo, and Oksana immediately falls asleep in the passenger side of the car, reminding me that she’s growing life inside of her. She sleeps more than any person I have ever witnessed before.
She has a doctor’s appointment in just two week’s time, and I’m going to ask Doctor Sokoloff if she’s normal. Though, when I called him a couple days ago, he assured me that her sleeping habits were, indeed, very normal. I want a thorough exam to prove that everything is okay, and that she and the baby are healthy.
I wake up as Mika walks us through the condo door. He’s carrying me, and I sag a little further against him, excited that he’s strong enough to carry me around. Walking doesn’t seem like something my feet can handle right now.
I just want to sleep, and I ache everywhere.
He lays me down on the bed and
slowly removes my shoes, then peels my dress off of me. I can’t help the moan that escapes at being free of the restrictive garment. Then he rolls me onto my side and divests me of my bra and panties.
I think that he’s going to start trying to seduce me, but he doesn’t. I hear him walk away, and I turn my head to look just as he’s walking in from the bathroom, a jar in his hand.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Coconut oil,” he responds with a smirk.
“What are you going to do with it?” I ask in surprise.
I use coconut oil for a variety of things, like moisturizer on my face, my hands, and all over my body. But I have no idea what Mika plans to do with it.
“Massage, lapochka,” he chuckles.
“Really?”
“Just lie down,” he rumbles.
I do as he’s asked, and when I feel the first bit of oil hit my skin and then melt, it sends a shiver over me. When Mika begins to massage my back with his strong fingers, I can’t hold back the moan. Holy shit. It feels like heaven. A couple minutes into it, I’m so turned on, I feel like straddling him and taking exactly what I want—which is his thick cock.
“Mika?” I whisper.
“Mmm?”
“I need more,” I say.
“Harder?”
“No, more,” I say rolling over onto my back and looking into his deep blue eyes. I watch as his nose flares, and I can’t help but grin up at him.
“What do you need?” he asks gruffly.
“I need you,” I whisper.
“What do you need?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as his eyes devour me.
I let my hand guide down the center of my chest, and then I start to slide my finger through my center when his hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist, halting me. I bite on the corner of my bottom lip and look up at him.
“You want my fingers?” he asks, his voice a little huskier than just a few minutes ago. I shake my head at his question.
“My mouth?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. I shake my head again, and he grins.
Forever my Badman (Russian Bratva Book 7) Page 20
