~ Emerson ~
Almost one year later…
My hand slaps the roof of a limousine as ferocious tingles race through me. Mikhail and I are meant to be doing an innocent grind-up to pass the time during a long commute, but as per our last million romps, there’s nothing innocent about it. My white lace dress is hiked up around my thighs, my panties are soaked through, and the front of Mikhail’s trousers have a wet patch.
But I can’t stop.
I refuse.
Mikhail has been teasing me relentlessly for hours, and it is about time he pays his dues.
“Please…” I shake my head, confident we can’t do this.
Mikhail’s tuxedo is custom, and I forgot to tell the tailor he may need a spare pair. If I give in to the tension, Mikhail will greet hundreds of guests in cum-stained trousers.
I can’t humiliate him like that. He’s faced enough abuse, and the respect he deserves is too fresh to test how powerful it is just yet.
“Keep going, Emmy,” Mikhail encourages, rolling his hips. “Make me come by doing something as simple as rubbing my cock against my wife’s drenched panties.”
His “wife” statement tips me over the edge. I want him now more than ever, and I will have him. It just won’t be like this. I need him inside me so I can tighten around him and milk him with my vaginal walls. I want to be stretched wide by him, and I know the perfect way for us to do that.
Mikhail groans a rough sound of delight that makes my mouth water when I fall to my knees and tug at his belt. He loves having his dick sucked as much as he loves giving head, but that isn’t the cause of the gargle in the back of his throat this time.
It is his remembrance of the silent promise I issue him every time I kneel in front of him, and how I’ve proven over the past twelve months that love is enough.
It’s been a challenging year, but I would be a liar if I said they weren’t also some of the best months I’ve lived. Our mothers are in remission, my sister has her asthma under control, and every day, I’ve shown Mikhail that love is enough.
We’ve grown stronger.
Our bond is unbreakable.
I wish I could say it was as easy sailing for Mikhail and Andrik. Their relationship struggled for months. But as I suspected, Amaliya and Zakhar helped bridge the divide—Zakhar more than I could have ever comprehended.
Kids don’t feel tension. They also don’t have a filter. Zakhar has no qualms telling his uncle Mikhail when he is overdue for a visit, and he is as bossy as his father while demanding immediate ramification of Mikhail’s mistake.
To begin with, their relationship grew outside of the home Andrik and Zoya created for their family. They went on motorcycle rides and trips to local landmarks and tasted every flavor of ice cream at a local parlor.
Over time, Zakhar gave Mikhail more understanding of why Andrik did what he did and reminded him that Mikhail was not the only one to have suffered under the hands of the federation. Andrik’s son was stripped from his life for almost five years, and his mother still hasn’t been found.
Having a better understanding of Andrik’s thought process when he made his decision won’t take away Mikhail’s hurt, but it will help mend things.
The bridge is almost back to its pre-burned condition, and I see today’s event adding a final lick of paint to the charred remains.
There’s something magical about weddings, but they’re even more wondrous when the bride and groom’s big day was delayed for means outside of their control.
Upon spotting my admiring watch, Mikhail’s thumb strokes my cheek. “You’re going to make me come so hard,” he murmurs, thickening further when I tug his trousers to his thighs like they didn’t cost a small fortune. “I’m so fucking hard for you.”
To prove his point, he fists the base of his girthy shaft and squeezes it. The soft rasp of his moan nearly sets me off. I’m so desperate to have him, taste him, that I lunge forward and swipe my tongue across his engorged crown without warning.
As his delicious flavors swamp my taste buds, I float my lips over the wide crest before slowly lowering them. Groaning, Mikhail’s teeth catch his bottom lip as one of his hands tangles in my hair. I suck harder when our gazes meet and then swivel my tongue along the vein feeding his magnificent manhood.
Over and over again, I draw him deep into my mouth. His hips grind with every suck as the movements of his hand in my hair guide the speed of our exchange.
He watches me through hooded lids when I take him to the back of my throat.
“Ah, god.” His words are hisses. “I love the way you suck my dick. It’s like you can’t wait to swallow my cum.”
“I can’t.” I pump him with my hand while talking over the wide crown of his cock. “So stop delaying the inevitable and come in my mouth. We have guests waiting for us.”
