Page 65 of Pay the Piper

“I bet his hair is thick everywhere.”

“Ooo, do you have a Russian nickname?”

“That’s so romantic, you teaching him to skate and then him falling for you…”

“I bet everything is thick—”

Okay. Before I get ordered to draw a diagram, I have to get these hens back in the coop.

“Yes, he talks dirty in Russian. Yes, I have a Russian nickname, and yes, the hair is thick and soft and everywhere. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.” I laugh with a wink.

Nonna fans herself, Giulia looks like she’s remembering her own hairy man, and Ellie slides beside me for as tight a hug as she can manage.

“Misha’s the best. If you’re happy, I’m happy, even if it would have been cool to be related. Honestly, with how close Misha is to Teddy’s family, you basically are anyway. You deserve it, Abby.”

As they titter about my love life, grabbing more snacks for the second feature of the evening with renewed vigor after their nap, her words ring hollow in my heart.

“You deserve it, Abby.”

I wish I did.

But I really fucking don’t.

Chapter 25

“You.”

The squeak from the goddess before me is almost enough to pull me from the possessive haze I’m spiraling into. Almost. She’s always on my mind, but the flight back from New York was one long, torturous tease, especially knowing she never took her things back to her own place. My condo is her home base now, and as I scan her in the nest she’s built for herself on the couch, my heart sings.

Fuzzy socks. Thick book with a…penis charm bookmark? Sweet and salty treat options and at least four emotional support beverages. My woman has made herself at home.

“Me?” she asks, placing her book to the side and rising to greet me. Or at least trying to rise.

With a hand under her knees and one at her back, I scoop her into my arms and don’t waste another second before claiming her lips. Our destination is the bedroom, but as I taste the chocolate she was eating mixed with the sweetness that’s just her, I’m too ravenous to wait.

“You.”

Her fluffy pink robe belies what I know is underneath, and as I adjust her position so that her legs are around my waist and her back is against the wall, it falls open to confirm what she teased me with on the flight. In contrast to the emerald lace set that my siren teased me with the first time she gave herself to me, this is baby pink. All lace and frills, with a crop top that would be modest enough to pass on a night out if it wasn’t sheer. Unable to stop myself, I bend and suck a nipple into my mouth before biting hard enough to elicit a whimper.

“What did I do?” She tries to sound contrite, but as she shimmies her hips as much as she can, desperate for friction, I remember exactly what she’s done.

Hoisting her even higher on the wall and ignoring her shrieks of protest as she tangles both hands into my hair, I’m finally face-to-face with my torment and my salvation. When she told me she was wearing crotchless panties and waiting for me to get home, I lost all sense of time and space. Nothing has existed for me since receiving that text except her. Pressing my mouth into her clit, I don’t offer her any of the relief I know she wants, instead letting the rumble of every word tantalize her with a fraction of the madness she’s caused within me.

“You gave me a taste of the sweetest pussy on earth, knowing I had to spend a weekend away in New York. You sent me pictures of how much you were enjoying being here, in varying states of undress. You decided I needed a play-by-play of how you used your tiny little fingers to get yourself off in the bathtub.”

Pulling back to look up at her flushed face, I can’t help but smirk at how pitiful her texts were by the end of that session. Despite trying her hardest, my woman just couldn’t get herself off the way I can.

“How many fingers did you try, baby? Remind me.”

“Three,” she whines. “Put me down. You can’t hold me up for this long…you’ll drop me. I’m too heavy.”

Burying my face into her core without warning, I delight in her scream, the shake of her thighs against my ears, and the subtle tingle of pain as she digs harder into my scalp. Fuck yes. Scratch me up, darling. Mark me all over as yours. When I’ve had enough of a taste to tide myself over, I pull back again, glistening with the evidence of the effect I have on the beauty before me.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Abby. I promise, my decisions will always be for your benefit. As far as you being heavy, I could hold you like this for hours without tiring. I’ve spent far more time holding much less pleasurable weight in less enticing conditions. I want to make you come on my tongue pressed against this wall because I can’t fathom going the twenty feet from here to the bedroom. So that’s what you’re going to do.”

With that, I lose myself in the singular pleasure of cataloging every gasp and moan that Abby gives me, pushing her to the brink before pulling back, relishing every new bead of arousal that forms for me to gorge myself on.

“Please, Misha,” she moans, hands limp in my hair now. She’s no longer tense where I hold her on the wall, pliant and tired from the marathon I haven’t allowed her to finish. “Please let me come. Or fuck me. Preferably both, but I’ll take either. Please.”