Dark Angel: Extended Epilogue

***

Lucya…

“Mama!”

Konstantin is charging down the hall with all the strength of his eighteen-month-old self. Which is an impressive amount because I have to brace myself for impact seconds before he’s about to knock me over.

He’s clutching something and his fingers open to reveal a very displeased looking spider. Emptying my son’s pockets is an exercise in terror, every time.

“Oh, that’s a grand jumping spider,” I say, repressing my shudder. “See those pretty blue mandibles?”

Konstantin raises his little hand, looking the spider. The spider looks back. “What are mamandables?”

“Oh, the word is mandibles,” I say. “see the blue bits? I think that’s where they carry their fangs, but this little guy is too small to bite you.”

“Konstantin, you were supposed to show your mother the Valentine you made for her.” My mother rounds the corner from the kitchen. She says chasing down our little guy keeps her young.

“I did,” he says with a huge grin. “My beautiful spider!”

“Well, it is a gift that comes from the heart,” Mom says, kissing the top of his head. She likes spiders even less than I do.

“I’m sure you’ve gotten your ten thousand steps today,” I whisper, checking her Apple watch, “because Konstantin is constant chaos from the moment he wakes up to the second where he passes out.”

“This is true,” Mother agrees, “I might hold him longer than necessary when he falls asleep for his naps, but it’s so nice to get a chance to cuddle him.”

Konstantin is taking his spider on a tour of our entryway. I don’t think the spider’s enjoying it.

“There’s my boy!”

Alexi strides through the door, wearing those jeans that fit so well on his perfect ass that I want to send Ralph Lauren a gift basket. As Pakhan, he’s in suits more often than not. So when he dresses casually, it always sends a little zing through my lady bits.

The spider is left to explore a shelf on it’s own as Konstantin races for his father. “Dad!” Alexi throws him up in the air, far higher than I’m comfortable with, but Konstantin howls with laughter as Alexi catches him easily.

Our son takes after his father in so many ways, the blond hair, the blue eyes, the same stubbornness and determination.

“My son, I’m taking your mother away for a couple of nights to celebrate Valentine’s Day. You remember that we’ve talked about this?”

“Da,” he says, lip stuck out just a bit. He reverts to Russian when he’s displeased.

“You’ll be good for your babushka, and all the people who care for you, yes?” Alexi is kneeling on the floor so the two of them are eye to eye.

Their expressions are identical, I never knew a toddler could look stern before.

“I will,” Konstantin nods decisively. “You be good too.”

I certainly hope so, I think. Though not in the way our boy means it.

We’re currently in our six-month rotation in Boston, so it’s easy to get to our beach house in Nantucket. It’s a large gray shingled home with white trim and blends nicely with the other houses on the shore.

Someone’s already been there, because there is an enormous blaze going in the fireplace and a charcuterie board filled with cured meat, crackers and six different kinds of cheese. I finally found Alexi’s weakness a few months ago on vacation, and it is cheese. I exploit that whenever possible.

“Oh, you remembered the poppies,” I sigh, touching one velvety petal. “I have such good memories of an enormous arrangement of poppies witnessing you debauching me on the yacht.”

“I’m sure they were traumatized for the rest of their short life.” He smiles meaningfully and I can feel my undies getting wet.

“That smile usually portends trouble for me,” I say, backing away from the kitchen.

“Not at all,” he says, attempting to look innocent. With Alexi, “innocent” is not possible. He takes a long white box off the table in the dining room. “A gift, my hummingbird.”

It’s a long string of pearls, gorgeous white ones that glow in the light from the fireplace. “They’re beautiful, thank you love,” I sigh happily. He puts the necklace over my head and it drops to my knees. We double it and the pearls rest between my breasts.

“Are you hungry, little Kolibri?”

“Not right now,” I lie. Nothing is going to stop this moment.

He’s already reaching behind his neck, pulling off his t-shirt. The sight of all his colorful tattoos is so sexy that my hands fly to the buttons on my dress.

“Leave the pearls,” he orders.

It becomes a race to see who can get naked first and I think it’s a tie. Alexi lifts me onto the dining table, takes a seat and dives in. He’s sucking on my pussy like a lollypop, his agile tongue tickling my clitoris. He’s been out of town for a couple of days and I’m so primed for this that I come embarrassingly quickly.

“Such a good girl,” he says approvingly. “I’ve been waiting for this. I’ve been angry, and frustrated with those Bianchi assholes. I’m going to take all that aggression on you.”

How can my husband manage to get even hotter? Now my center is painfully swollen and there might be a trickle of slick sliding down my thigh.

“Oh. O- Okay,” I stammer, letting him flip me over so I’m facing the table. His hand grips the pearls and pulls on them a little. Alexi knows how much I love his hand on my throat.

“I’m going to choke you with these pearls.” He leans over, making me feel his enormous erection pressing against my back. “Until you come for me.” His cock slides inside me with one hard stroke.

There will never be a time that it doesn’t sting like hell when Alexi is inside me. It’s all mixed together for me, and I tighten down on him, moaning in relief. Alexi rotates his hips, making more room inside me. I can feel his pierced tip rubbing against my cervix, sparking little jolts of electricity. He’s kissing my shoulders, my spine, and then he pulls out and shoves his cock back in, really pounding into me.

“Beautiful, filthy wife,” he grunts, pulling on the pearls with one hand while the other is circling my clitoris. The rough fingertip is perfect, scraping over that tender bundle of nerves and my eyes roll back.

The hard pearls dig into my neck and I flail behind me, trying to find some part of my husband to ground me. It lands on his ass, flexing with his thrusts and I dig my fingernails into his skin.

“You know that just makes me want you more,” he says, speeding up. “The sound and feel of you coming around me, I think you’re pulling my soul out through my cock.”

Alexi’s thumb presses down, his fingernail gently scraping my clitoris and he pulls harder against the pearls, making me gasp as the pain dissolves into something dark and needy.

“Your slick is dripping down my balls, hummingbird. You should come with me and I’ll clean up your messy little cunt with my tongue. His fingers dig in to my waist, I’m going to have bruises tomorrow.

“Now,” he growls. “Come now.”

I do, every part of me, every muscle clenched tight and he pounds harder, his cock swelling impossibly bigger and then, he floods me inside.

After Alexi keeps his promise about licking me – and wasn’t that the hottest, filthiest thing he’s done – we shower and he dresses me in the softest clothes he can find in my closet.

“I think my pearls dress up the outfit, don’t you think?” I pose for him as he chuckles a bit.

“Come downstairs, wife. I need to feed you before I can do all the things I’ve been thinking about.”

Sweet baby Jesus, I’m never going to survive this holiday.

A storm sweeps in as we re-heat the Valentine’s Day dinner that was left ignored in the refrigerator. “I could live on Boston clam chowder,” I sigh happily, leaning back and watching my husband devour a Tomahawk rib chop that’s bigger than his head. He needs a lot of protein to maintain his gorgeous musculature.

Eating with him made me enjoy food again, not having to worry about someone looking disapprovingly at my portion size or suggesting I avoid dessert. Alexi likes my curves, he says, but I think he likes taking care of me even more.

After a trip outside for an enormous stack of firewood, Alexi stands, arching his back. “Is this enough, my pyromaniacal bride?”

“Yes, thank you,” I say primly, patting the seat next to me. The rainstorm is slowing down and from here, we can hear the waves crashing against the beach. “So, what are we going to do for the next thirty-six hours?”

Pulling me onto his lap, my beautiful husband cups my breasts, squeezing gently. “Oh, I have a list,” he says, swooping in for a kiss. “A very long list.”

“I did want to add something else to the agenda,” I say. “My contraceptive shot is out of my system, I’m healthy, and Konstantin is eighteen months.” I shift a bit, watching his expression. “Um, would you like another child?”

For a man who could lift a truck, Alexi is gentle when he needs to be, cupping my cheek with his hands. “Are you sure? You know that I’ll want as many children as you can give me.”

“Let’s just start with one more this round, what do you say?” I laugh.

I’ve been picked up and we’re halfway up the stairs leading to our bedroom before I’m even aware that Alexi moved.

Scooting up the bed, I watch him rip off his clothes again.

“I can’t wait to fuck another baby into you.”

I giggle in a way that will embarrass me when I remember this moment, and take a deep breath, parting my knees.