Page 55 of Marrying the Silver Fox

He presses his head to my neck, so I can feel his teeth graze along my skin as he begins to move into me, entering me slowly like he’s savoring the feel of me around him on this slow, lazy morning.

Pulling back the covers, he continues to fuck me, running one hand along my waist and down to my thighs. He lifts his head so he can see the two of us moving together, the piston of his cock stroking deep into me where he can watch like he’s making his own personal porno with me as the star. I steal a glance down, and I can tell how wet I am from here, the slickness glistening on my inner thighs where it has leaked from within me at his touch.

He lets his hand fall to my clit once more, circling it again, this time matching the pace with that of his thrusts so the various pleasures begin to meld together and the heat begins to build in my lower belly. I have never been this orgasmic before in my life, never made it this easy to get myself off as long as I’ve lived. I could put it down to pregnancy hormones, but I know it’s more than that, more about the way he holds me, the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel as though there’s nobody else he would want more in the world.

I can hear his breath starting to hitch at the back of his throat as he fucks me, and I take one of his hands, the one tucked beneath me, and draw his fingers to my lips. I know it drives him crazy, the touch of my tongue on his hand, and I brush his fingertips along my parted mouth, enough to get a reaction, enough to remind him how much he wants this.

He groans, fingers moving with more purpose around my clit, and I plant a slow kiss on his finger like I’m making out with just this tiny scrap of skin I have access to. The knowledge that I’m turning him on this much, enough that he can’t hold back even waking up next to me, it brings that spiraling pleasure tighter and tighter within me until I can take no more⁠—

And I come on his cock, my head thrown back, his mouth on my throat and fingers still brushing against my skin as I tip over the edge and into my release. My body throbs against his, the last vestiges of sleep washed away as he sends that pleasure rushing through every inch of my body. My toes curl, legs tensing out straight for a moment as it takes hold of every part of me, and I gasp, trying my best to catch my breath as he continues to coax the pleasure out from me, cock moving deep and slow inside me as his fingers graze over my swollen clit.

When he is sure that he has taken me where I need to go, he suddenly moves on top of me, pushing me prone onto the bed and pulling my hips back to meet him without moving his cock from inside me for a moment. He slides a hand into my hair, pulling it back roughly so he can drive himself deep into me. The new angle sends another rush of pleasure spinning through me, my orgasm dragging out for just a few more moments as he slams himself deep inside of me a few more times, and I listen to the low, throaty growl he lets out with every movement as he goes closer and closer to his own release…

Then he spills over into it, flexing his hips against mine and finishing just a few moments after I did. He lets his face sink into the crook of my neck, breathing hard, cock twitching inside me as he fills me with his seed. There’s something almost animalistic about the way he finishes inside me, as though he’s marking his territory, staking his claim.

He slowly unfurls himself from me once he has well and truly filled me, and eases back, pulling me against him so my head is lying against his bare chest. He pants as he tips his head back onto the pillow, and I giggle, tracing my hand up and down his chest and feeling the rapid thud of his heart just below my fingertips.

“Well, good morning to you too,” I tease, and he turns to brush his lips over my temple.

It’s crazy to me how tender and sweet he can be right after he just fucked me senseless, but I love these two sides of him. These parts of him that value me deeply, and for completely different reasons.

He grunts in return, and I lay my head on his chest, letting my eyes drift shut for a moment. I know I should be getting up by now, but honestly, when it feels this good, it’s hard to believe that there’s anywhere I belong more in the world.

28

NIKOLAI

When I eventually coax her out of bed, I take Andie through to the kitchen and help her hop up onto the counter as I set about cooking some breakfast. It has become our routine since she returned here—spending the morning together, those slow, lazy starts to the day that seem to make everything that comes after a little easier.

And besides, I know that there’s nobody else I would want to spend my mornings with. Since she has been back here with me, it’s like a weight has lifted from my shoulders—that desperate urge to protect her has eased slightly, as counter-intuitive as that sounds, because I’ve proved to myself that I will be able to protect her if anything does happen to her. There’s a relief in that, a comfort in knowing that I’m capable of standing against anything that might pose a threat to her, even if that threat comes in the form of my own brother.

“What are you making?” Andie asks, as she peers into the pan.

“Shakshuka,” I reply, as I crack another egg into the spicy tomato sauce bubbling on the stove. “Good for energy.”

“Well, we’ll need it, after how you just woke me up,” she teases lightly.

I grin. Yeah, I’ve been having a hard time keeping my hands off of her, if I’m being honest. Not that I feel any guilt about it, given that she is my wife. I swear I never believed in the pregnancy glow before her, but now, every time I wake up next to her, it’s like her body is just calling out to me, begging to be touched exactly the way she likes.

She pauses for a moment, looking down into the pan. When she speaks again, her voice has taken on a more careful tone, like she’s all too aware that she might be skirting too close to a sensitive spot.

“Did your mother teach you to make that too?”

I freeze for a moment, still holding the spoon, the bubbles popping on the surface of the sauce. I don’t know what to say. If I should say anything at all. I have hidden the truth of what happened to my mother from her, and for good reason—I didn’t want to terrify her with the possibility of what she could be faced with if she was part of our world.

But I can feel her curious eyes burning into mine as she searches for an answer, and I remember what I told myself the other day, when I had just come off that call with my father—that she has been honest with me, and I have to do the same to her if I want to earn her trust.

I nod. “She did,” I reply, and I reach to turn off the stove, leaving the eggs to finish cooking in the residual heat. I can feel Andie looking at me, a cautious edge to her gaze, as though fearful that she has overstepped the mark.

“You don’t talk much about her,” she remarks, closing her hands around her singular coffee of the day.

“I know.”

“Is there…is there a reason for that?”

I sigh heavily, leaning my hands on the counter in front of me for a moment. I don’t know that I want to answer this question, but then, I’m not sure I have much of a choice. I can duck and dive out of the way of what she wants to know, but it will not be enough to undo the pain inside me. This is the grandmother of her child she’s talking about, and she deserves to know what happened to her, even if it stings to have to come clean.

“I don’t like to spend too much time thinking—thinking about the fact that she’s gone.”