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“Oh, God, please, please,” I moan. I gasp as my orgasm hits me out of nowhere. “I’m coming!”
Mishka grunts, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own release. As he bursts inside me, I throb around his iron length. We moan together, the erotic sound vibrating through my bones. Core spasming, I milk him hard, my body begging him for every drop of cum.
He slows, his pulsing twitches tapering off as he empties his balls inside me. Sucking in desperate lungfuls of air, I open my eyes to find his. Even bruised and battered, Mishka is devastatingly handsome. The injuries give him an extra ounce of rugged fierceness that reminds me of how intimidating I used to find him. Now, it’s almost amusing to remember that I thought of him that way.
He might have the look of a killer, but in his heart, Mishka is one of the sweetest, gentlest people I’ve ever met. I’m utterly enraptured by the walking contradiction that he is. I’m completely consumed by my attraction to him. So in love, I feel as though my heart might burst for him.
“What are you thinking?” he murmurs, releasing my trapped hands as he traces a knuckle down the line of my cheek.
I smile, taking the opportunity to comb my fingers through his soft hair. “That I’m the luckiest girl alive.”
Chuckling low and soft, Mishka rolls onto the bed beside me and pulls me into his arms. Chest against my back, he holds me close, spooning me. “Funny, but I was thinking the same thing about me,” he breathes against the shell of my ear.
A delicious shiver races up my spine, and I snuggle closer, soaking up the heat that radiates from his body. It feels so good to be safe and warm in his arms. As I lie there, my limbs growing drowsy with contentment, I rest my palm over my belly and smile.
My happiness is in large part thanks to this little one. The love and appreciation I feel for our baby is overwhelming. What a special soul. I don’t even know them yet—not really—and already, they’re protecting their Papachka. I can hardly express my gratitude toward the innocent life inside me.
Thank you, little one, I think, humming affectionately when I imagine they might actually hear me.
Mishka’s hand covers mine, interweaving our fingers as he shares the special moment, and I revel in delight. Nothing could be more perfect. I’m right where I belong, and I look forward to a long, peaceful sleep wrapped in the arms of the man I love.
Letting my eyelids droop closed, I sink into a soft blanket of dreams, my heart full and my body deeply content.
The familiar sensation of bile traveling up my throat awakens me from a colorful dream. As I rise to consciousness, the details of it slip from my mind like a wet bar of soap. Focusing instinctively on the immediacy of my issue, all other thoughts flee my mind.
It’s been too long since I’ve had a full night’s sleep because, like clockwork, my morning sickness strikes at just past three a.m. every day. I’d hoped I might get a night off, but apparently, my good fortune couldn’t hold out any longer.
That’s okay.
I should have enough time to get to the bathroom if I’m quick about it. But I don’t want to disturb the man whose large, muscular body is wrapped around mine, molded to every curve and contour.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Mishka sound asleep. His heavy arm is draped across my waist, holding me protectively even now. What I wouldn’t give to stay warm beneath the blankets with him. But my urge to vomit is growing more insistent by the second.
Disentangling myself from Mishka’s embrace as carefully as I can, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and try to stand without waking him. Stooping, I feel around blindly for something to cover me and find the soft material of his T-shirt. Without a second to spare, I snatch it, bringing it with me as I tiptoe quickly across the open space of his apartment.
My stomach heaves as I reach the bathroom door, threatening to release my dinner before I’m ready. Panic infuses my movements as I imagine throwing up on Mishka’s floor. I quickly slide the bathroom door shut, then flick on the light. Not a moment too soon, either, as I whirl to purge the contents of my stomach into the waiting porcelain bowl.
Panting, I ride out the waves of heaving nausea, clinging to the toilet as I throw up.
After several painful moments of dry heaving, my stomach slowly starts to settle, and I slump shakily onto the cool tile floor. That was a close one. For a second there, I wasn’t sure I would make it.
With trembling fingers, I turn Mishka’s T-shirt right side out and pull it on. It smells like him, earthy with a hint of leather and citrus, and I bring the fabric up to my nose to inhale his masculine scent. Like a calming incense, it soothes me, settling my nerves. As I come back to my more composed self, I hope I wasn’t too loud.
Straining my ears, I hear Mishka rustling quietly in the other room, indistinct sounds that could be sheets across the bed or shuffled footsteps on the carpet. I can’t quite tell. For a moment, I brace, expecting him to open the bathroom door. Then he grows silent and still once again.
I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding, glad I didn’t wake him. Mishka needs his rest after the pummeling he took. Shaking my head, I take a moment to consider everything that’s happened.
My mind’s still reeling from our night, everything from finally telling Mishka about the baby to his proposal, my brother finding out about us and dragging Mishka away to a fight. Capturing the men who took me. Then all the months of secrets coming to light at once. It feels like a marathon of events crammed into a few short hours.
I’m glad it’s finally over. We can go back to something I might call our normal lives.
Smiling to myself, I rest my palms over my stomach. I suppose normal is going to become very different in no time at all. I’m excited to see how this baby will change our lives, though I have to admit, I won’t mind when I’m finally done with the morning sickness phase. It’s not the most fun part.
Taking a deep breath, I assess my body. When I’m confident I’m finished throwing up, I flush the toilet and go to the sink to brush my teeth and take a drink of water. Careful not to get my wrist bandages wet, I wash my hands. As I dry them, I release a sigh of contentment.
It’s the first time I actually get to spend the night with Mishka. The whole night. And we’re not camped out in some random cave, lost in the woods. We’re not hiding our relationship, nervous about getting caught. It makes me smile to think that this is the first night of the rest of our lives together. And suddenly, I can’t wait to get back into bed.
Flicking off the bathroom light, I douse myself in sudden darkness. Then I slide open the bathroom door as silently as I can.
