Forced Marriage Vows

20. Mikhail

CHAPTER 20

Mikhail

U nfortunately, the short time apart from her served to punish no one but myself. If there was ever any doubt that the woman before me has wormed herself into my heart and soul, it’s all gone now.

“We need to talk, solnyshko ,” I tell her.

She sighs. “Yeah, we really do.”

I watch as she crosses the length between us before settling down on the couch beside me. I inhale her soft, feminine scent. I want to bottle up it up and keep it on me at all times. It’s maddening, this attraction I feel for her.

“How was dinner?” I ask, deciding to start with an icebreaker.

“It went okay. But that’s not important right now. We need to talk about last night. And I should probably apologize,” she says, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper, baby,” I tell her. What she said hurt, but at the end of the day, I can’t blame her for what she feels.

“No. You haven’t done anything wrong,” Anastasia corrects, placing a hand on my arm. Her touch is searing. “This is all on me. I know I was being difficult.”

I run a hand through my hair and blow out a breath. “I think it’s time we laid out all our cards on the table, Anastasia. No more secrets, no more hiding things. We’re in a relationship, and I understand that it’s not the most conventional type, but I want us to at least try to make it work.”

“I want to make it work, too,” she says softly.

“This isn’t easy for me. I’m not the man who sits around talking about his feelings. No one has ever asked me to. I thought I was doing well. Believe it or not, I was actually trying to open up to you. You can’t get mad at me for not telling you about things like my mother’s death when you’ve never asked me about it. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, baby. You just have to ask, because if you don’t, I won’t know to tell you.”

She reaches for my hand, her long, manicured fingers intertwining with mine. She pulls our joined hands down to her lap before meeting my eyes.

“I want you to tell me about her, Mikhail.”

That’s all I needed to hear. The truth is, I’ve never spoken about my mother to anyone. It’s the one dark spot in my past, like a wound that refuses to close, memories that never seem to fade. It still hurts, but I’d bear any pain as long as she keeps looking at me like that.

“She died when I was ten years old. It was a long time ago, but I still remember her. She reminded me of a delicate flower. My mother had a kind heart. She liked art and music and the pretty things in life. And she was incredibly beautiful. I’m not just saying that. Heads turned everywhere she went. She worked as a model before she met my father. I have no idea why but she fell in love with him, and it ruined her whole life. Falling in love with him is what led to her death.”

Anastasia’s fingers tighten around mine. Her gaze is soft, comforting, urging me to continue.

“My father didn’t love her as much as she loved him though. He abandoned her for most of their marriage, choosing work and chasing after his own ambition. Which led to her getting depressed. She was on meds for pretty much my entire childhood. I barely remember her lucid moments because most of the time she was high or hysterical. In those few moments of lucidity, though, she made sure to tell me how much she loved me and how sorry she was that she couldn’t be the mother I deserved. She’d given me one of those speeches a couple hours before I went into her bedroom and found her dead. It was traumatizing. A ten-year-old finding his mother’s body after she’d killed herself. I remember slipping on the blood. There was so much blood,” I say, my voice gruff and raw.

Anastasia’s eyes are glassy by the time I’m done. She makes a soft sobbing noise before throwing her arms around me. I hold her tighter, relishing in her warmth, accepting the comfort.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Mikhail,” she says against my shoulder. “And I’m so proud of the man you became despite it all.”

“I became a monster. You said so yourself, baby,” I murmur.

She pulls away to look me in the eye again.

“No. I was wrong. I don’t think you’re a monster, Mikhail. I never should have said that. The world isn’t always black and white; there’s some gray areas as well. And I hate that I’ve spent so long trying to deny that to myself. You’ve never done anything to hurt me, and I know I can be difficult, but you’ve gone out of your way to accommodate me. I just took that for granted because I was scared of my own feelings.”

“And now?”

“Now I know without a doubt that this means something. I’ve found something with you that I’ve never found with anyone else. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’m a pretty big mess, Mikhail. I grew up in a family where I constantly felt like I was second best. My own mother made me feel like I was undeserving of her love. And I think that’s affected the way I behave in relationships. I always run when things seem too good out of fear that it’ll be taken away from me. In the end, I only end up punishing myself.”

He brushes his thumb against my cheek. “I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart. My mom dying that way made me feel abandoned. She didn’t love me enough to stay, and that idea took root in my head. It’s why I never formed any genuine attachments. The only person I really cared about for the longest time was Anthony. And now you’re in my life, and the thought of being apart from you hurts. The two of you are the family I choose. It would drive me crazy if I lost you.”

“So basically what you’re saying is that we both have abandonment issues? Maybe I should book us a couple’s therapist session,” she jokes.

I roll my eyes. “We were having a serious conversation, Mrs. Morozova.”

“I like that,” she murmurs. “Being called Mrs. Morozova. I like being married to you, Mikhail. And you’re not going to lose me. We’re stuck together now. In sickness and in health, forever and ever.”

My heart starts jackhammering in my chest.“You can’t take back words like that, Anastasia.”

“I already said them at the altar,” she points out.

“You didn’t mean it then.”

“I mean it now,” she says, a promise in her deep brown eyes. “Do you want me to prove how much?”

Desire spreads through me like wildfire when I take in the heated look on her face.

“I’m all yours, sweetheart,” I state.

She slowly slides down to her knees in front of me. I think I stop breathing as she reaches for the waistband of my shorts. My cock is already hard and glistening by the time she takes it out. Blood rushes to my head as she licks her lips, a sparkle in her brown eyes.

She strokes my length in her delicate hands. Once, twice, anticipation curling within me.

“Tell me I’m yours,” she says, brown eyes looking up at me.

“You’re mine, Anastasia. No one else’s but mine,” I say dutifully, spreading my legs as the sensation of her hand on my cock threatens to rob me off all thought. “Suck me off, solnyshko ,” I command.

And because she’s my perfect girl, her lips open up wide and she leans down to take me in. My cock fills her mouth and tongue moves automatically, swirling around it. Heat spreads up my stomach and tightens in my chest. My head falls back to the couch and I clench my teeth in an effort not to make a sound as she sucks me in as deep as she can.

“Yeah, like that,” I direct when she places her hand at the base of my cock, rubbing it in tandem with her lips around my dick.

When I can’t take it anymore, I lean forward, gathering her blonde hair in my hand as I begin fucking her mouth in the earnest. She takes me in like a good girl without any complaints, allowing me to slide in and out as hard and as fast as I wish.

“Fuck, Anastasia,” I groan.

My breath turns ragged. I can feel my impending orgasm rushing through me. Anastasia’s tongue laves at the head of my cock, and I stiffen, tapping her cheek to warn her that I’m about to come. She doesn’t release me, instead increasing the suction of her mouth against my cock.

I come with a hoarse moan, shooting my release into her throat. She doesn’t stop sucking me off until she’s taken in every last drop. I’m dazed by the time she gets to her feet, sliding onto the couch beside me.

“How’s that for proof?” she asks with a small smile.

I think I love you.

I don’t say the words, though. One, because it’s too soon. And two, because I’m pretty sure the worst possible time to say it would be after a woman just gave you a blowjob.

“My turn,” I say simply, pushing her down onto the couch and sliding her dress up so I can get a look at her pretty pink pussy.

She completely pliable, lust and desire mingling in her expression as I run my fingers across her wetness right before my tongue dives inside of her. We spend the entire night making it up to each other, and making up for lost time as well.

“I have to tell you something tomorrow morning,” Anastasia says against my chest.

It’s late at night and we’re both exhausted and thoroughly fucked.

“Okay, baby,” I say easily. “Go to sleep.”

She does, and soon enough I’m joining her, feeling nothing but content and so glad that she came into my life.

It’s obvious that whatever she has to say to me is something big. She wants to talk as soon as we wake up the next morning, but I convince her to wait until after breakfast.

She nervously taps her feet against the floor, avoiding eye contact as I prepare us some avocado toast. We eat in silence, tension dripping in the air, although I pretend not to notice it. I’m pretty worried, though.

“Okay, baby, let’s hear it,” I finally say once we’re done with our meal and the plates are cleared.

Her throat bobs with a swallow. “Mikhail…”

“Whatever it is, just say it. We agreed to be more open with each other, right? I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

“Famous last words,” she mutters.

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

Her gaze softens. “I really hope that’s true. Just promise me you’ll try to understand her side of the story.”

“Whose side?” I ask.

“Sierra.”

That has me pausing in confusion. I rub my jaw as I try to come up with any plausible explanation for her even possibly knowing who that is.

“How do you know Sierra?”

“I met her two days ago. Outside my yoga studio.”

“Alright, and?” I prompt, needing her to get to the point. I’m making conspiracy theories in my head, trying to figure out where this is going.

Anastasia inhales. “And you have a child, Mikhail. Sierra was pregnant when you broke up. She gave birth to your son a few months later.”

Static fills my ears after that pronouncement. I stare at Anastasia in shock, trying to process the words I just heard leave her lips.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Sympathy floods her brown eyes and she reaches for my hand, tracing soothing circles against my palm with my thumb.

“You have a son, Mikhail. He’s a beautiful, amazing little boy. His name is Jalen and he’s three years old.” She says the words slowly while I try to overcome my initial shock.

It takes a couple of minutes and a few deep breaths, but I manage to do so. And then my brain’s working again, trying to understand how this could be possible, trying to plan out the next step.

Nothing could have prepared me for Sierra Colby coming back into my life. And definitely not like this.

“Mikhail, you have to say something,” Anastasia prods gently.

I look up at my wife’s face, trying to ground myself to reality. My mouth feels dry and there’s a lump in my throat as I consider the possibility.

“What did you say his name was again?” I ask, my voice rough.

“Jalen.”

I nod once, twice. “And you’re sure he’s mine?”

She nods, look completely sure. “He’s yours, Mikhail.”

“Okay. I’m handing over the reins to you, baby. Call Sierra over here. And I’m going to need you to make sure I don’t strangle her,” I grit out.