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Smiling, I nod, then sit up, climbing over her and laying down on her other side while Vik takes my place, quickly applying the healing ointment inside her pussy and ass.
“Get dressed, Baby, I’m hungry and Roza won’t plate up ’til we get down there,” Vik orders, rolling off the mattress, kicking his boxers off as he strides into the closet.
Alabama’s eyes are hooded, but she nods, then slowly extricates herself from the bed and walks into the bathroom.
“You’re welcome.” Vik winks, poking his head out of the closet and smirking at me.
“I didn’t think she’d want me to touch her.” My smile is so wide my cheeks are starting to hurt.
“Orgasms are a fucking wonderful thing,” Vik says before disappearing again.
I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to wait for Alabama, even after Vik heads downstairs. When she walks back out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her skin is flushed pink, and her hair is wet. “Can I help you get dressed?” I ask softly, bracing for her rejection.
“You left me a bikini and a shirt,” she scoffs.
“I’d still like to help.” It’s not an order, but I suppose if she refuses I could make it one. Picking up the bikini bottoms from where they got abandoned during our morning orgasm session, I hold them out. “Come here, step into these.”
I see the moment she accepts that this is what’s happening in her eyes, and her shoulders dip, like all of the tension just drained from them.
Placing a hand on my shoulder, she lifts first one leg, then the other and I slide the bottoms up her thighs and over her ass, until they’re snuggly covering her pussy. Pinching the edge of the towel between my fingers, I drag it from around her, dropping it to the floor at her feet and revealing her small, pert breasts.
The moment the towel is gone, she looks at me, her pupils dilated, her eyes heated. She might hate me, but she doesn’t hate me dressing her like this and I am more than okay with that.
Lifting the bikini top over her head, I graze the sides of her breasts as I situate the two triangles of fabric over her tits. “Turn,” I order, my voice gruff as my dick hardens and begs for some attention.
Lifting her hair, I tie the strings together at her back, then tighten the one at her neck, making sure everything’s tight and held in place. I have zero problem with her tits falling out while we’re eating breakfast, but if anyone but the three of us sees her without a top, I’m pretty sure someone will end up dead.
Standing up, I press my body into her from behind, making sure she feels how hard I am. Dropping a kiss to her shoulder, I grab her hips and turn her to face me again, reaching behind me blindly and picking up the shirt I left for her.
Her gaze dips to my crotch, but neither of us acknowledges my hard dick. Instead, she slides her arms into the sleeves of my shirt and I roll the cuffs until they’re short enough not to cover her hands. “Perfect,” I whisper, hooking her chin with my finger and lifting her mouth to my waiting lips.
For a second, she doesn’t respond, but eventually, her lips move against mine and she kisses me back. A part of me screams, warning me to quit while I’m ahead, but when she pushes her tongue into my mouth and rubs her hard nipples against my chest, I’m incapable of stopping.
When she finally pulls back, I let her, exhaling as my dick screams at me to bend her over the bed and slam inside of her. “Can we start every morning like this?” I ask, my voice rough with need.
Her cheeks turn red and she dips her chin in the most adorable way.
“Come on, let’s go eat. Dimi wants to talk more about the Orlov situation with you, then we can get in the pool.” Not offering her my hand, I reach out and take hers and she curls her fingers around mine, like she’s done it a million times before.
“Good morning, Malishka, you look beautiful,” Dimi tells her when we step out onto the patio. Crooking his finger at her, she looks to me, before she lets go of my hand and slowly walks over to him. As soon as she gets close, he stands up, palms the back of her neck and kisses her roughly until she melts into him, kissing him back without a moment’s hesitation.
A pang of envy tugs at my gut, but with the taste of her cunt still in my mouth, it’s not as bad as it was.
“Come, sit. I’ll go and let Roza know we’re ready to eat,” Dimi says, pulling out the chair at his side for her. When he returns a moment later, he’s carrying a glass of juice, which he places in front of Alabama, kissing her forehead affectionately before taking his seat at the head of the table again.
Vik saunters from the house just as Roza is placing his plate in front of his chair. “Oh, perfect timing.” He smirks, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Alabama’s cheek as soon as he takes his seat beside her.
“We’ve received an email from the lawyers who are handling your father’s estate,” Dimi announces, looking at Alabama.
“Can we not call him my father? I never knew him, so let’s just call him Polakoff, or sperm donor, or just Mafia boss asshole.” Stabbing a strawberry with her fork, she lifts it to her mouth and crunches angrily.
Chuckling, Dimi dips his head in agreement. “As we expected, Orlov has disputed your claim and is demanding we go to Russia.”
“Russia?” she gasps. “I’m not going to Russia. I’ve been kidnapped once, that was bad enough, if I go to Russia, they’ll either kill me or I’ll disappear and end up in a fucking cage.” She shudders dramatically and Vik drapes his arm over the back of her chair, stroking her shoulder reassuringly.
“Right now, we have no intention of going to Russia. This is exactly what we expected to happen. Now we counter move,” Dimi assures her.
“What does that mean?”
