“You’re really going to name our son to spite me?”
Kiya shrugs as Nadia helps her off the floor. “I was leaning toward it anyway.”
Sometimes I look at Kiya and wonder where that skittish girl who was always apologizing went because I know she wasn’t always this mouthy. Or maybe that girl went away when Vaughn and her mother were killed because she no longer needed to be that way to protect herself. Because behind the skittish behavior and the anxiety, I saw this side when she collected the nerve to stand up for herself. When she argued with me when she disagreed. If the latter is the case, then I’ll take this mouthy, confident woman every day and kill anyone on sight who scares that skittish, anxious little girl out of her and makes her hide her true self.
“Mitya,” Nadia says, pronouncing it properly though she hasn’t corrected Kiya on her pronunciation of it. “I like it.”
“Mitya Vorobev,” Kiya says, looking me directly in the eye as she says it. I don’t know whether it’s on purpose or if she’s really having trouble pronouncing it.
Knowing her, I assume the former. Either way, it’s so bad that even Nadia cringes. When Kiya smirks at both of us, Iknowshe’s doing it just to irk us.
Stubborn woman..
I wouldn’t have her any other way.
So I walk over to pull Kiya into my chest and press a kiss on her forehead. Then I say, “Kitten. When you have this baby, your punishment for all this behavior is going to be well-earned.”
38
Kiya
I’ve got one last final project due in two days, and then I’ll be done with school forever.
Well, maybe not forever. I’m thinking about getting an MFA, but that’s later. In a few years. If I ever get around to it. But as far as my undergraduate art degree is concerned, I’ll be done… if I can bring myself to concentrate on this project and not on the pulsing ache of my pussy between my legs.
The doctor told me to expect this between all the hormone injections I had to take to prep my body to take the embryos made from my harvested eggs and the sperm Nadia had frozen before she finished her transition. But it’s one thing to expect it. It’s another to experience this kind of ache when neither of my partners have even touched me and I’m trying to focus on something that’s important.
Finally, I give up. I’m not going to be able to concentrate until my desire is sated, even if it’s not going to be sated the way I want it to be. I like when Nadia and Alik lick my cunt with their tongues. Suck me off with their mouths. I like when they use their fingers. But there’s nothing like being penetrated with a cock. Unfortunately, Alik can’t do that or there’s a risk that he’ll accidently impregnate me before the embryos can take, and though there’s no risk, Nadia won’t use her strap-on either out of an overabundance of caution. And that’s how it’s going to be for two weeks until I can take a pregnancy test and then go to a follow-up appointment to see how many embryos took. If any.
Their mouths are better than nothing though.
However, my journey to find Alik or Nadia—but hopefully both—is put on hold when I open the door to my studio and find a little body lying on the ground in front of the threshold.
My son jumps to his feet and says, “Mommy! Are you done with your homework?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry,” he immediately says. “Papa and Mama said your homework was important.”
“You didn’t bother me, Mitya. I’m taking a break.”
“Can we go visit Grandpa and Bell?” he asks immediately, to which I roll my eyes.
It is beyond my comprehension why Mitya adores my dad and stepmother as much as he does. Then again, I have come to grudgingly admit that they aren’t completely awful when you get to know them and as long as you aren’t their enemy. I even call him “Dad” now. That’s not to say that I ever miss an opportunity to remind him that he and his wife kidnapped me. To which he reminds me that I stole from his wife. To which I say the punishment outclasses the crime. But it’s not a serious argument anymore. Now it’s… almost a fond memory. An inside family joke. One that just makes him chuckle while he tells me to hand over his grandson, and then tells me to come draw a portrait of them, or tells me my siblings wanted to ask me something.
In that way, the way we go back and forth and then forget our jibes two minutes later, we’re like a real father and daughter pair. Somehow, the mafia boss who kidnapped me and has a slightly (extremely) warped way of caring is a better and kinder parent than my religious, law-abiding mother ever was. Either that or living in proximity to a bunch of criminals and murderers has made me see the world as warped as they do.
I’ll take this lot in life regardless.
“Not today, Mitya. After I finish my homework.”
“When?”
“In a couple of days.”
“But Mommy—”
I take Mitya’s hand to head downstairs and make a note to see if my dad will come get my son himself when we run into Isaak.