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He enters the bathroom with me in his arms and sets me down on the edge of the bathtub. He still hasn’t turned the lights on, but with the precision he’s moving makes me wonder if he can see in the dark.
Mr. Vampire.
He rummages around for a moment before the sound of water running fills the room, instantly pulling my attention in its direction.
He opens my legs wide, and I hiss when a wet cloth comes in contact with my sensitive bud.
“I’ll just wipe you clean.” He whispers, his voice carrying just as much affection as his actions.
He’s so gentle, turned into an entirely different person, who wanted to be one with my pussy mere seconds ago.
“W-why d—”
He cuts me off before I can speak, as if reading my mind. “Why didn’t I fuck you?”
His head slowly swivels in my direction, and despite not being able to see his face clearly, I can feel the weight of his knowing, analytical stare on me.
“Baby, when I fuck you,” he pats me dry with a different cloth, lifting me up in his arms again. “I have to see the face of the hole I’ll be ruining.” I want to chuckle and say; promises, promises, but fold like a leaf instead.
“I will ruin you for everyone else, baby.”
Little does he know, I’m already ruined for everyone else and for him too.
Five minutes later, we’re back on the bed. He changed the sheets after finding a fresh set shoved inside the last drawer of my wardrobe.
He did all of that without turning the lights on, and I’m now ninety percent certain he is a vampire.
Sucks blood and can see in the dark.
The door-breaking does poke a hole in my theory. Perhaps a bear.
A cute, possessive bear.
We lie tangled in each other’s arms, my head resting on his chest while his fingers drift through my hair. Stroking the strands, twirling them around his fingers, burying his face in them, pressing absent-minded kisses against them.
I think he really likes my hair.
His arms around me, hiding me from my demons, and he did.
I sleep so peacefully, no night terrors, and the only thing I remember before sleep pulls me under is him leaving a kiss on my forehead mumbling something in Russian. “Я убью любого, кто тебя обидел, малышка.”
And I wonder what it means.
The next morning, I feel alone even before opening my eyes.
Some would argue I was grouchy all day because of it but I’m justifying it by saying it’s a default setting and nothing to do with a certain someone sneaking out of my bed.
When I get up to clean my room and realise something is missing—or, more specifically, that my panties are gone—a giddy smile spreads across my face at the thought that the grumpy Russian might have stolen them.
NINETEEN
Sergei
Iate the most delicious pussy in the entire fucking world.
I need a rewind and a repeat—or maybe ten. Please and thank you.
The pounding in my head makes me groan before I suppress it, finding a sleeping beauty snuggled so close to me.
