Page 53 of Ivory Oath

“I know,” he murmurs. He grabs my hips and props me up on my knees, his hands seated in the curve of my waist. “I was lying, too.”

My cheek is pillowed on the blanket as I twist back to look at him. “About what?”

His eyes lock on mine, dark and wild. “About ever being gentle with you.”

Mikhail doesn’t enter me halfway this time—he drives every inch of himself inside of my still-throbbing center.

My back bows and he presses a palm flat to my lower back. He bends me further, angling me so he can slide into me exactly how he wants.

“This is how I’m going to fuck you when you’re swollen with my baby.” His hands tighten around my waist and he pulls me harder against him. “This pussy is always going to belong to me.”

I spent most of my life straining against the chains my father put on me. I wanted nothing more than to belong to myself—to be free.

But belonging to Mikhail Novikov is the best kind of freedom I can imagine.

“I’m close,” I gasp, stretching my arms in front of me and sinking back against him. “I’m going to come again.”

His hand slips around my hip and he circles two fingers over my clit as he pumps into me.

“Come with me, Viviana,” he commands. “Now.”

As if my body was just waiting for him to give the order, as soon as the word is out of his mouth, I grip his cock.

He lets out a string of curse words, his thrusts growing more and more purposeful until he stutters and warmth floods through me. I can feel him twitching inside of me and it prolongs my own orgasm, his pleasure somehow carrying mine.

I collapse on the blankets and Mikhail spoons his warm body around mine. The air smells like citrus and sex. My thighs are sticky with the evidence of what we’ve done.

But I’m as safe and content as I’ve ever been. I lean into the steady rhythm of his chest and fall asleep.

24

VIVIANA

The heat is biting, but it’s a delicious kind of pain. I sink lower into the tub until the water laps against my chin.

We’ve been at the cabin for days and this is the first time I’ve been able to relax in the tub.

To be clear, I’ve been in the tub plenty of times. The moment I saw the claw-footed beauty nestled in the corner of the bathroom, a huge skylight in the sloped ceiling above and a ring of candles around the rim, I knew me and this tub were going to get very close and personal.

The trouble is that the tub and I haven’t had any alone time. Every time I start running water, Mikhail appears in the doorway with eager eyes and grabby hands.

Last night, Mikhail fucked me over the end of the bed until I couldn’t stand. Then he dropped to the floor and ordered me to sit on his face. I fell off of him, every muscle in my body quivering, and begged him to run me a bath so I could recover.

But halfway into my soak, he slipped into the tub with me. He was all innocent eyes and raised, Who, me? hands, but within ten minutes, he was finger-fucking me under the water while I lathered his cock in honey vanilla body oil.

When I remember the way he pumped his dick into my fist and his fingers into my pussy until we both fell apart, panting and limp below the bubbles, I can’t even be mad at him for interrupting my tub time.

I never knew a person could be sore from too many orgasms, but here I am. Sore and sated in all the best ways.

None of that means I’m not enjoying this alone time, though.

Dante loved going hunting with Mikhail the other day—even though “hunting” for him consisted of wearing a camo sweatshirt and standing behind Mikhail as they stalked through the woods—and he’s been begging to go again every morning when he wakes up.

The thought of my little baby boy anywhere near a gun sends a dagger of panic into my chest. Then I remember he’s with Mikhail and the worry eases.

I trust Mikhail.

If I didn’t trust him, there’s no way in hell I’d be casually sipping sparkling cider and shriveling my skin beyond recognition in this soapy water right now. Especially because being pregnant usually makes my anxiety unmanageable.

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