Page 125 of Fractured Empire

Sweet, I muse silently. Did I mention she was sweet?

“Baby, I’m fine,” I tell her again, for the fourth or fifth time now.

She refuses to be swayed.

“You’re not fine,” she replies sternly, putting a hand on her hip. “Your back has been sore for two days since you bent over too fast picking up snowballs to throw back at our sons. Now lie down and let me rub you.”

“You’re acting like I’m a fragile old man. I can throw men twice my size over my shoulder, I’ll have you know.”

“Yes, yes.” Her eyes roll. “You’re a big strong man who can handle pain, we get it. But I’m your stubborn wife and if you don’t lie down on that couch and let me rub out your strained muscles, I’ll be quite cross with you.”

“Baby, you’re the pregnant one,” I try to reason, feeling guilty. “I should be the one telling you to lie down so I can rub your feet and eat your pussy or something.”

She tries so hard not to smile at my reply, but humor cracks on her lips against her will. “I’m not at the stage of pregnancy where my feet need rubbing yet. And maybe if you’re a good boy and take your massage I’ll let you eat my pussy afterwards.”

Smirking, I look down at her with a tilt of my head. “Oh, you’ll let me, will you?”

“Didn’t you just say I’m the pregnant one.” She arches her brow challengingly. “Doesn’t that mean I get whatever I want? Lie. Down. You stubborn man.”

Well, she makes a valid argument.

“All right, baby,” I relent, tugging my shirt over my head. “But stop if you get tired, all right? I can work my own muscles out eventually, sometimes they just get tight.” Mostly because I skip stretching far too much for a thirty-two-year-old man. A poor habit I’ve yet to kick.

“I’m not going to get tired,” she claims, rolling up her long cotton sleeves while I lay out on my stomach. “I’m a licensed masseuse and I’ve worked on far more challenging things than my stubborn husband’s back.”

Head wiping to the side, I look up at her in disbelief. “You’re a what?”

She grins, pleased with herself. “I love that I can still surprise you. It’s one of the best things about falling in love early into a relationship. We get to keep learning new things about each other every day.”

“You’re a masseuse? How…what?”

“How did a mafia princess end up becoming a massage therapist?” she giggles, pulling a small tube of oil out of her bag, the bag she brought downstairs when she started to insist I lie down for her. “It’s not that interesting or wild, I assure you. When I was eighteen, my mom started to really suffer from inflammatory arthritis. Her arms and hands would get so sore and tight, and her doctors weren’t much help. So, I enrolled in a course hoping to learn how to help her.”

I blink up at her and she smiles sweetly. “Face down, baby. I’ll keep talking but I’m getting my hands on these pretty muscles of yours. I’ve been thinking about how massaging them would feel for a little while now and I won’t be denied the pleasure any longer.”

Completely floored by her, I do as she requests and put my face into the soft couch cushion, leaving myself room to breathe where the seams meet.

“As I was saying,” she begins with a pleased hum. “I enrolled in a massage therapy course.” The sound of a plastic cap snapping open is directly followed by her hands rubbing together softly. Katya sits on the coffee table, putting herself at just the right height to reach all of my back. “Of course, Linus wasn’t super happy about it at first. He demanded Ares go to all of my classes with me to keep me safe. He attended all six months of class with me, and six hundred hours of training.”

My wife keeps talking, but it becomes harder to focus as her hands glide up and down my back. She manipulates my skin and the surface of my muscles like they’re butter, pushing and pulling as she begins with a light pressure.

“He whined about it at first, but when he started being used as a practice dummy he liked it. And as much as it was taking time away from his days, he knew I was doing it to try to help my mom. He’s always been kind to her, and she’s always had a soft spot for him. Well anyways, after I got certified, I started a regime with my mom that really helped her. After a few weeks, her flare-ups were so much calmer, and eventually, she had a bit of a remission. Her kind of arthritis can come and go as things in your life change, and she’s had a few really good years recently.”

“And she makes do without you?” I ask knowing damn well that I can’t really change things if she’s not. She can’t exactly commute to Florida for regular appointments to take care of her mom. Especially not while she’s pregnant and vulnerable.

“She is,” Katya answers, sounding pleased as she moves her hands up to my shoulders, rubbing deeper. I won’t deny that it feels fucking incredible. “She goes to the spa I like whenever she needs a ‘tune up’ as she likes to call them. Ugh, that’s probably the one thing I miss about back home other than my family, my spa days.”

A deep groan catches in my throat as she begins to carefully work out some kind of tension in my mid to lower back. It feels good but rough, a surprising amount of strength coming from my wife’s small hands.

“If you want me to find someone to give you massages and facials and shit I can,” I offer with another groan. “Jade and Ana have someone they use. I’m sure if Cassio and Dmitri have found someone safe enough to trust I can too.”

It might be difficult, but I could manage it.

Maybe I should just learn how to do it myself so no one else can touch her.

Is there a way to search for trusty, worthy old lady spa specialists? I’ll have to ask Remo.

“I’ll think about it,” Katya muses, sounding tickled by my offer. “I had two really nice ladies I liked a lot back home, and I won’t pretend I don’t love being pampered at the spa, but I have other priorities. Taking a couple hours a week or even a month away from the kids just to go be rubbed and get facial treatments sounds lovely until I think about the hours I’ll be missing with our boys.”