Page 112

“I-I think, I’ve squirted again.” There goes my heart, she’s fucking adorable. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Baby, I just came down your throat. If you think squirting is embarrassing, think again.” She chuckles at that but doesn’t lift her head up until I force her to.

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you. You are the quintessence of perfection.” And it’s going to ruin me.

I cup her face in my arms, smoothing the flyways, my gaze lingering on the small red bite marks on her cheek and chin, her eyes glossy, lips parted and swollen, she looks thoroughly fucked. She looks mine.

“It’s normal. There is nothing wrong with it.” I kiss her eyelids. “You could spit on me and I’ll open my mouth wide for you to do it again.”

She snickers, trying to hide her blush.

I kiss her cheeks, licking the pain away. “You could shoot me and I’ll stand again to be your target.”

And I just realised, that I would totally do that.

TWENTY-FOUR

Elara

One month.

Nineteen years of my life, yet this one month was the happiest I’ve ever been.

Because of Sergei.

Not because he doesn’t hit me, or abuses me but because he never tells me to fix myself. In fact, I could say he almost admires me for my scruffiness.

Whenever he’s away, I find myself searching for him and whenever we are alone, I find myself admiring him.

The other day I woke up before him, I know shocker. The Snooze Button Appreciation Society has officially cut ties with me. But I digress.

Anyway, he was sleeping so peacefully I couldn’t help but stare.

Cocooned around his huge biceps, surrounded by the scent that only belongs to him, and for the first time, I didn’t hate the sun when it turned his skin to solid gold. The rays catching on his face with such blinding perfection it stole my breath.

He might have squinted his eyebrows, and I might have reached up to shield his face with my hand.

After keeping me up all night with the unending marathon—yes I am talking about sex. Lots and lots of mind-blowing sex—he was asleep with a smile on his face.

Did I tell you that he has a stamina of a warhorse? We fuck every night like our lives depend on it. He fucks me until I’m about to die and then some more.

He fucks me like he’s going to die tomorrow.

He’s always fucking me and when he’s not, he’s watching me, he’s touching me. And sometimes those lingering gazes are far more sensual that the sex itself.

If someone would’ve told me that I’ll be a sex-addict a month ago, I would’ve laughed at them so hard, because fucking hell.

I love sex.

Or maybe I just love it because it’s with him.

I haven’t thought much about it, I’m not ready for level- headedness yet. I’ll leave that for a more logical version of me when she decides to pay me a visit.

For now, I’m satisfied with Ms. Horny Bitch.

Sergei goes on his morning runs like his neurons only breathe when his legs are on fire. But before going, he leaves a note on the nightstand, his handwriting neat and cursive.

Good morning, malyshka.