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Instantly I turn overly sensitive, and I let go of his head. “Jesus,” I gasp, my body still spasming with aftershocks.
Nikolai stands up and bends over me, bracing a hand on the counter. “I love when you scream.”
“Good,” I gasp, trying to catch my breath.
His palm covers my sensitive clit. “This is my pussy,” he demands.
“Okay,” I agree while letting out a chuckle. “You won’t hear me complain.”
Nikolai pushes his middle finger inside me to gather some of my arousal before lifting his hand to his mouth.
I watch him suck my orgasm off his finger, then I groan, “We’re going to be so late for the barbeque.”
He lifts me bridal style and carries me to his bed. “We still have two hours, but I’m sure they won’t mind if we’re late.”
Nikolai strips out of his clothes, and when he crawls over my body, there’s no doubt in my mind that he was made for me.
Chapter 33
Nikolai
After we’ve eaten, we sit around the fire surrounded by my family.
“I annoyed the living hell out of Nikolai until he gave in.” Abigail’s telling my mom how we met. “The poor man didn’t stand a chance.”
Mom lets out a bark of laughter while Dad has a smile curving his lips.
Grandpa shakes his head. “Once a woman sets her sights on you, there’s no use fighting.”
Grandma places her hand on his thigh. “Still, you fought tooth and nail.”
“I had to take care of Winter,” he defends himself.
“Hey, don’t blame me. You’re on your own with this, Cillian,” Mom chastises him before turning her attention back to Abigail. “Nikolai told me you love to paint. Were the supplies I got the right ones?”
My woman is burrowed against my side, and I’m loving it.
“Yes, it’s my passion, and the supplies are perfect. Thank you so much.” Abigail pats her hand against my abs. “While I’m visiting here, I hope to paint the piece I owe Nikolai.”
“It has to be one of a kind,” I remind her.
“Bossy, just like your father,” Mom scolds me. She looks at Abigail again. “What do you paint?”
“I prefer nature scenes. I’m not good at painting people.”
“I’d love to see some of your pieces one day.”
“Maybe I’ll get to show you when I visit again.” Abigail pulls away from me. “Where’s the restroom?”
I stand up, and taking her hand, I lead her into the house. I wait outside the restroom while she uses it, and once she’s done, I grip her hand tightly again.
When we pass the living room, she tugs me to a stop. “Wait. I want to look at the photos on the mantelpiece.”
I follow her into the room and watch as she takes a moment to look at every framed photo.
Abigail reaches for one Grandma took when I was little. We were out in the woods, shooting each other with paintballs. I chuckle as I point at the photo. “I shot the shit out of my Dad that day.”
There’s a soft smile on Abigail’s face. “You all look so happy.” She presses the photo to her chest, then asks, “Can I borrow it this week?”
