Page 119 of Cashmere Ruin

Part of me wants to. It’s the part that spent so many years between those shelves—happy years, sad years. The part that knows nothing else.

But things change. And so much has changed already—me most of all.

“Then afterwards,we’ll talk,” Elias reassures me, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. What’s holding me back from committing, one way or the other. “Now, I want you to do one thing and one thing only.”

“Of course,” I murmur. “Anything.”

“Use up the rest of your maternity leave.”

“Elias, I can’t!” I protest. “This project’s well-paid. I can’t possibly keep collecting a paycheck when you still need to hire?—”

“You can and you will.” Elias’s voice is amused, but inflexible. “Besides, I’ve already hired a temp. You can’t change my mind, missy.”

“But…!”

“No buts. All complaints can be sent to HR.”

“You’reHR!”

“Then your complaint has been received. Now, go change the world.”

I roll my eyes fondly. “I’m just making clothes.”

“‘I’m just a tailor.’ Do you know who said that?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

I hear laughter on the other end. “Gianni Versace. Goodnight, my dear.”

I stay on the phone long after the call has disconnected.Goodnight.That word lingers in my head:Goodnight.It’s just like Elias to pick a parting as kind as that.

One that isn’t a goodbye.

So I throw myself back into my work. I pour my blood, sweat, and tears into it. I get to the factory earlier than anyone and stay later than everyone. Often, that means bringing along May and her four newly-appointed bodyguards. None of them holds a candle to Buttons, but then again, not everyone can be a perfect protectoranda perfect pillow.

And just like that, the weeks fly by.

Another thing that’s been skyrocketing: my sex life.

“Look at you,” Matvey rasps into my ear. He’s above me, behind me, inside me. Everywhere, all at once. “So wet for me.”

I whine helplessly into the pillow. I’m stuffed to the brim, Matvey’s fingers spelling ruin inside me, his free hand locking both of mine into place at the small of my back. “Please,” I beg.

“You want my cock that much?”

“I want it,” I moan. “Please, Matvey, please?—”

He yanks his fingers out of me. I want to cry at the absence—it’s so emptynow—when I feel them again at my lips. He pushes them rudely in, stuffing me full on that end, too, stifling my moans better than any pillow could.

I can still taste myself on him. “Blyat’,” he groans. “Such a dirty little vixen.”

Then he slides inside me.

No, “slides” isn’t the right word—it’s too gentle. What Matvey’s doing to me is nothing less than savage. His cock pushes roughly between the swollen lips of my pussy, and it’s all I can do to bite down on the fingers in my mouth to keep quiet.

God help me—I loveit.

When I was pregnant, we never got to do anything like this. We were too busy being careful, sticking to positions that wouldn’t turn our Nugget into a Pancake.

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