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I plunge myself into her hot, slick pussy.
Her head falls back and she screams in pleasure, her arms wrapped around me. I take her wrists and place them above her head, lowering my full weight on her.
“I understand,” she murmurs. “I do.”
I bend and take her mouth. “Thank you,” she says softly when I pull away.
I wonder if she’ll be thanking me when she knows what else I have in store for her. Will my adoration and protection be enough?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Aria
I wakewith a wave of nausea.
I toss my hand over my mouth and run to the bathroom just in time. I kneel over the toilet and retch.
Oh, God.
Something I ate? Maybe it was something I ate. We ordered DoorDash from some Russian bistro place he likes, and while it was delicious, I ate some foods I’d never eaten before.
God, no, I can’t be sick! Not today.
Tonight’s the night of the gala. Polina and I actually got to go shopping and pick out accessories. Mikhail picked out my dress and I’m excited to see it.
Wait — the night of the gala. The night when I’ll be around all the people that want me dead.
Maybe I don’t have to go? Conflicting emotions? Yeah.
I bend my mouth over the toilet a second time. When I rest my head on my arm, panting from the exertion, I feel Mikhail’s warm presence behind me.
“I’m so sorry you’re sick, love,” he says with concern. I open my mouth to respond, when another wave of nausea hits me. This time, he holds my hair until I’m spent. I rest my head on my arm again.
“Maybe it’s the food we ordered last night?”
I lean back against the wall. The cool tile feels good beneath me.
Mikhail crouches in front of me, his eyes a picture of concern. He’s already hit the gym and showered, his dark hair damp, and he’s dressed in business casual, so he likely has a meeting.
My throat gets all tight when he brushes my hair out of my eyes and places his large hand across my forehead. “You’re not warm. How else do you feel?”
I wipe at tears in my eyes. “That’s so sweet,” I say, wondering what’s come over me so suddenly. I’m not usually all sappy and sentimental. “I was just nauseous.”
“You fell asleep so early last night.” He rises and gestures for me to stay where I am before handing me a small cup of water. “Maybe you shouldn’t have slept so soon after a meal.”
If there’s anything I’ve learned from being with Mikhail, it’s that Russians are averysuperstitious people. They knock on wood to ward off bad luck, have religious icons and art all over the place to protect them despite the fact that they are decidedlynotreligious, and I once saw their mother lose her mind when one of them was whistling indoors. Apparently, that brings bad luck.There’s likely some myth or belief about eating before bed being related to illness.
“I don’t…I don’t know. I—” I swallow.
I pause because it suddenly occurred to me that my period was due last week.
He reaches for me before I slump over. “You look like you’re going to pass out, Aria. Let me.” I normally love his Russian accent and how he’s all protective. The “come with me” is followed by him carrying me in his arms with gentility.
“Mikhail.” My voice is just above a whisper, but it gets his attention loud and clear. “You have a meeting?”
“I’ll call it off.”
I remember Polina talking about the important officials coming into town for the gala. For all I know, he’s meeting with the prime minister of Russia, and he’s about to call it off.
