“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
Bringing my hands to the back of his head, I pull him closer and look into those gorgeous eyes. “I need you, all of you,” I beg. “Please, Misha. I’m not so fragile that you can’t fuck me like I need you to.”
The truth of his teasing comes out when he asks, “You promise you’ll stop me if I hurt you?”
The pain and worry in his eyes makes my chest hurt. My big, strong, powerful husband is so terrified of hurting me that he’s willing to completely forgo his own pleasure just to take it easy on me. He’s refused these last two weeks to let me do anything for him, telling me not to worry about him, that he’s fine and I should only focus on getting better, but I know he needs this just as much as I do, that he’s about to burst from the wanting of it.
“I promise.”
As soon as the words are out, he kisses me softly and slowly slides in the rest of the way, giving us what we both so desperately need. When he’s fully inside me, I feel tears prick my eyes from how much I’ve missed being this close to him. He keeps himself buried inside me, kissing me with our bodies tightly locked together. When he feels the wet heat of my tears on the hand that’s lightly cupping my face, he stills and looks at me with such a pained expression that all I can do is lock my arms and legs around him when he immediately tries to pull out of me.
“I’m fine,” I quickly say. “I’m not hurt.”
His eyes run over me, scanning for new injuries, but I cup his face and smile at him. “I’m fine. I’m just getting all sentimental. My emotions are all over the place lately.” I let out a soft laugh. “I’ve just missed this so much.”
When the laugh turns to more crying, his expression softens as he holds me, kissing me gently and brushing away the tears until I’ve got myself back under control.
“I’m so sorry.” My voice is raw and shaky, and I’m amazed I haven’t managed to kill his erection, but he’s still just as solid and thick inside me.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, baby. I’ve missed this too, more than you can possibly know. You’re my home, sweetheart, and nothing feels right when we can’t be together. The only time I feel completely at peace is when I’m inside you.”
Before I can start in on another crying fit, I press my lips to his and rock my hips up. He lets out a groan and slowly starts to fuck me. Everything else fades away except the feel of Misha—the comforting weight of him on top of me, the warmth of his skin against mine, the taste of him on my tongue, and the familiar, faint smell of his spicy cologne.
It doesn’t take long at all before my body is tensing with my climax and I’m moaning his name into our kiss.
“Please,” I beg, and he lets go with a deep groan, knowing exactly what I’m begging him for.
I smile against his lips at the feel of him pulsing inside me, giving me exactly what I want. Mikhail is sexy every second of every damn day, but my favorite side of him is when he’s in the midst of an orgasm—vulnerable and gorgeous and spilling his seed inside me.
When we’re both spent, we stay wrapped in each other’s arms. He rolls us over, so I can lay on top of him and he can stop worrying about being too heavy. His fingers dance along my back as I rest my head on his chest, listening to the comforting beat of his heart.
“I love you,” I whisper against his skin before giving him a kiss.
“I love you too, baby.” He cups the back of my head and kisses the top of it before dancing his fingers over me again. “I want to marry you,zaichik. I don’t care what kind of ceremony we have, but I want to be married to you as soon as possible.”
“I want that too. I just don’t want to be black-and-blue in our wedding photos.”
“I’m really hoping the photographer can recreate your driver’s license photo. God, wouldn’t that be a thing of beauty? We could blow it up and hang it over the fireplace. My men would love it.”
He’s laughing so hard his chest is shaking beneath me, and I try like hell to look offended, but I can’t pull it off. The thought of being in my wedding dress and posing next to Mikhail with that horrible facial expression makes it impossible to not laugh along with him.
When I can finally speak, I say, “Just so you know, I’ve never had another photo like that, so don’t get your hopes up. I would very much like to not be all bruised up, though, in the photos that we’re going to have for the rest of our lives.”
“They’re almost gone.” He runs a finger gently over my cheek. “Can we at least start planning?”
I laugh at his impatience. “You sound like the bride.”
“You’re getting lippy because you know there’s no way in hell I can spank you when you aren’t fully healed.” He laughs and gives one of my bare cheeks a squeeze. “But I’m making a list, sweetheart.”
I let out a soft moan that makes him laugh again. “Always such a handful,” he murmurs against my skin.
I smile and relax into him, letting the steady rise and fall of his chest and the comforting sound of his heart lull me into a nap. He holds me, lightly stroking my back, keeping me safe and secure while I sleep.
The next couple of weeks are spent planning a wedding and before I know it, it’s the morning of. We decided to keep it small and simple. We invited all of his men, of course, and Valentina and Lyudmila, as well as Vadim and his family. I managed to find a beautiful wedding dress in town with an open back that I think Mikhail will love. It has the most intricate, delicate beadwork I’ve ever seen, and it makes me feel like an absolute princess. I hadn’t realized I’d had that particular hidden, girly desire, but it flared up as soon as I’d seen that gown on display. I’d paired it with a gorgeous veil that’s almost as long as the train on my dress.
Everything is going so perfectly, but right this second I’m an absolute bundle of nerves as I stare at the timer on my phone and the white stick I just peed on. It’s been over a month since I had a period, more like closer to six weeks, and this morning I woke up feeling nauseated. My breasts are also tender and swollen. I have all the classic signs. I pace the bathroom, forcing my eyes away from the stick until I hear the timer go off. Taking a deep breath, I look at the stick, and when I see the two pink lines, I lose it.
A million different emotions run through me, too many to acknowledge or feel so I just end up feeling nervous and a bit scared and so fucking happy I can barely keep it all in. I know Mikhail’s on the other side of the house, giving me privacy while I get ready, but I can’t hold this in. He’ll know something is up the second he sees me, and I don’t want him worrying when I’m walking down the aisle.