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“They’ll be fine. They know what they’re doing and, in a week, this will all be over,” Lev says, speaking low and soft.
“Why can’t you send someone else? Surely it doesn’t need to be them?”
“Honey, you’re killing me here,” he says, pulling me into his huge wide chest and holding me tight.
Tears drip from my eyes and I don’t fight it. Coming here has unlocked the emotional mess I’d locked deep inside of me and now I cry at everything. I even cry at the stupid British baking show we’re still binge watching.
“Hey, hey, it’s going to be fine, they’ll only be gone for a couple of days, then they’ll come home to us.”
Home. Is this place home? The answer comes easily. Yes, it is. This is my home, these men are my family, and them not coming back to me, isn’t an option.
A day later, I watch them load their luggage into the small boat that will take them to the bigger boat which will take them to the airport. According to Dimi it’ll take them two days to get to Alaska, even though they could fly direct in about seventeen hours.
“Stay,” I whisper against Dimi’s ear.
“Malishka,” he groans, pulling me in for a hug, his hand dropping to squeeze my ass and making a fresh pool of cum drip out of me. We’ve spent all night indulging in each other and my body is sore, sated, and thoroughly well used, but it’s not enough, and I cling to him before throwing myself at Vik and holding him just as tight.
“Just pay someone to shoot him or something,” I plead, a growing sense of dread pooling in my stomach.
“Baby, you know it has to be us. Lev will look after you and we’ll be home before you even have a chance to miss us,” Vik tells me, lifting my chin and kissing me quickly, before passing me back to Dimi and striding down the small jetty to climb into the boat.
“Be good, Malishka. I love you,” Dimi coos into my lips, kissing me hard, then pulling away and leaving without looking back.
Four armed guards, including Greyson, the head of the guys’ security team climb in beside my men and the boat immediately pulls away, speeding off into the open sea and away from us.
“Come on, Honey, shall we take a swim? Or we could watch a movie or just hang out by the pool?”
“I have a really bad feeling about this, Lev. I really wish I hated you all right now, because then I wouldn’t care. But I don’t hate you, I just really hate them leaving,” I blurt, my words a garbled mess as tears fall from my eyes.
Scooping me up off the ground, I wrap my arms around his neck, and my legs around his waist, clinging to him like a monkey. “Ice cream, that baklava you love so much, and a duvet day. How’s that sound?”
“Our bed is swimming in jizz,” I say petulantly.
“I asked Roza to change the sheets before we came down to see the guys off, it’ll be clean, fresh, and jizz free by the time we get back.” Lev laughs.
“I don’t hate you,” I cry into his shoulder.
“I don’t hate you either, Honey.”
The first day is agony. They warned us we probably wouldn’t hear from them because they’d be in the air for most of it, but I still obsessively check Lev’s cell phone for any new messages.
Vik calls the moment they land in the US, but only long enough to tell us they got there safe and that Orlov’s flight was due at eleven thirty a.m. the next day.
I wake up the next morning to the sound of pounding on the bedroom door. In the weeks I’ve been here, no one has ever come to our room, ever.
Lev jumps up and out of bed, leaving me to pull the sheets to my neck to cover how very naked I am.
“What?” he barks, unlocking the door and yanking it open.
“Sir, there’s been several light aircraft sightings traversing the island and a boat was spotted, sitting just beyond the reef,” a crisp male voice reports.
“Fuck. Okay, give me two minutes, I’ll meet you at command,” Lev says, shutting the door and marching into the closet. He comes out, fully dressed a few minutes later. “Honey, get some clothes on, I need you to be ready, just in case this is a threat.”
“Okay.” I nod.
Kissing me briefly, he leaves, locking the door behind him. Climbing out of bed I head for the closet. Anxiety hits me the moment I step inside. The last time I picked my own clothes was when I took things from the guys’ closet rather than wearing any of the flowery shit Lev had picked for me.
Now the rails are full of beautiful clothes, but my hands still freeze inches away from touching anything. “This is ridiculous,” I say aloud, grabbing the linen shorts and shirt set that I liked so much the first time he dressed me in them, that Lev ordered me two more sets in different colors.
