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He lifts himself up on his knees a little bit more, changing the angle slightly, and holy fuck. Only a couple thrusts later, I tighten around him, and I’m coming bringing him along with me. This time, I’m pretty sure I black out from the intensity.
When I open my eyes, Mikhail has a warm wet rag between my legs. “As much as I want to see my cum running down your leg, I thought you might feel more comfortable if I clean you up.”
I just hum in contentment, I feel so tired, happy. I could sleep forever after that. He snuggles in behind me, both of us still naked and pulls me tight into him covering us with blankets. Kissing my temple, he whispers, “Go to sleep, baby girl.”
And I do knowing I want to stay in this dream forever. I don’t want to leave and go back to reality.
fifteen
Mikhail
The sun shines through the window illuminating the whole room. I roll away from the light and groan. I’m not ready to get up yet. My eyes snag on the spot next to me and I can’t help but stare at the stunning woman lying there. She’s on her stomach giving me the perfect view of her back and the side of her breast that is peeking out from underneath her. The sheet is draped down around her waist covering up her beautiful ass and one of her long lean legs while the other is sticking out.
I gently rub my fingertips down her spine. She moans and rolls over to face me. Slowly, she opens her eyes as her pink lips slide into a smile…mmm… “Good morning, Mikhail.”
My chest tightens with the way my name rolls off her lips. Could this be what it's really like for the rest of our lives? Waking up next to a gorgeous woman, hearing her shout my name at the top of her lungs every morning. This is what I want.
“Good morning, baby.”
“Why are you already up? I thought old men needed their sleep,” she says with a wink.
I chuckle and shit, I don’t even remember the last time I laughed. “Oh I’ll show you what older men need.” Gripping her thigh, I lean down to her lips. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
Then I go in for a kiss but pull back at the last minute with a grin.
“Hey,” she whines.
Pulling away from her I bounce off the bed. “Get up,” I tell her while I grab a pair of boxers and joggers from the dresser, putting them on.
She pulls the sheet up over her head groaning while she turns over, exposing more of her peachy ass.
“Nope. I want to sleep in.”
“Well, you can when you get old,” I say, smacking her ass. “Get up and I’ll make you breakfast.”
With that last request, I head out the bedroom door toward the kitchen. I want to take care of her, feed her, buy her whatever she needs. It’s obvious that Ella takes care of everyone but herself, and that stops now. This woman has the weight of the world on her shoulders. It's plain as day to see. I want her to let me help. I want her to know she’s not alone anymore.
I don’t cook much but one thing my mom made sure I knew how to make was pancakes and bacon. Let’s hope she likes pancakes.
Grabbing out a pan from the cabinet, I place it on the stove and move to the pantry. I grab all the ingredients and measure it out into the mixing bowl.
I preheat the oven and put the bacon on the baking sheet, then place them in the oven. That’s when I hear Ella’s sexy, sleepy, morning voice.
“Bacon…in the oven?”
I look over my shoulder and my heart starts to pound. She is standing at the entry of my kitchen in one of my old shirts and a pair of my boxers. Her face is clear of makeup and I can see the freckles that dust her nose. Her chestnut brown hair is thrown haphazardly into a messy bun on top of her head and I don’t think I have ever seen a more gorgeous woman.
The caveman inside of me wants to just throw her over my shoulder and chain her to my bed, but I turn back to the oven, needing to remember what she really needs and what I really want to give her. Not just sex…everything.
“Yep. My mom taught me this when I was a kid. If you bake the bacon, it helps keep the mess to a minimum.”
She moves to the bar as I start to cook the pancakes. “Are you close with your mom?”
“My mom died when I was in high school,” I reply.
Her voice softens, “I’m sorry, Mikhail. I know what it's like to lose a parent. What about your dad? Are you close with him?”
My face softens with her words remembering what she told me last night about her mom and dad. I think hard about her question. I’m not not close with my dad. We meet up every week to discuss work, but we don’t really dive into anything too deep.
