Taken by the Russian

He leans forward, licking up the sweet trail to my nipple before he latches on and starts to suck. Then I feel the head of his cock slide across my clit, and the sensation of releasing into his mouth while the heat of his wide cock rubs against me is everything.

“Oh my God.”

I slide my hands into his hair, keeping him pressed against me. He sucks on me even harder, feeling my need grow with his. His cock moves back and forth over my clit, and a whine escapes my throat. I’m not going to last.

When he pulls back and I see him lick his lips, cleaning up the evidence on my milk, the image is too much. I start to come as his teasing cock rubs in one long stroke, and I scream out his name. His mouth covers mine, swallowing my moans. I taste myself on his lips and feel his warm release hit my pussy and stomach. The feeling of his passion marking me triggers my own again. I pulse, my body begging for him and being denied. But his heat on me, and the taste and smells are enough for now.

He kisses me softly one last time and looks down at me.

“Do not think I forgot about our wedding and the priest,” he reminds me. His hand goes to my pussy, and he rubs his cum into my skin.

“I was good the last time he was here.” I bat my eyelashes. I really was good. He came over to bless our first baby, Roman. Today he’s here to bless Abram.

“Da, but I was able to take you. I made sure there was no room for error.” He continues to rub his cum into me.

“I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.” I wink at him, but he shakes his head.

I hear Abram start to cry and I know that’s going to wake his brother up, too.

“I’ll get them, angel. You finish getting ready.” He kisses me, then slides me off the bathroom counter, returning the straps of my nightie to my shoulder.

“His outfit is on the rocker,” I tell him. He nods once again, stealing another kiss. He gives my ass a squeeze.

“I love you, my Anya.” His eyes are soft.

“I love you, too.” This time I get on my tiptoes and kiss him. “Now go get our boys ready.”

He nods, righting his clothes and getting himself back together before he leaves me standing in the bathroom.

Sasha is just as much of a perfect father as he is a husband. The way he is with our little ones sometimes makes me want to cry. My real father was never like that with me. It makes me want another baby. Just one more sounds nice.

I finish getting ready in the bathroom, putting on light makeup and arranging my hair in a messy braid. I head to my closet to change. I slip on a loose – strapped white cotton dress that comes to well above mid – thigh. I don’t bother with a bra since I’ll be nursing Abram in a moment, or underwear, because the dress is so sheer. I walk barefoot out of the closet and stop when I see Sasha on the bed. Both boys are in his arms. Abram looks to have fallen back asleep. Roman is laying his head on Sasha’s shoulder but leans up when he sees me.

“Mama!” he squeals, reaching for me and making me smile. Sasha places him on the ground and he waddles over to me, and I scoop him up. His hands come to my cheeks, and his smile is giant.

“Eskimo!” he says. I bring my nose to his and we give each other an Eskimo kiss, rubbing our noses together back and forth, something his daddy taught him. He looks so much like his father. Sasha comes to stand next to us, Abram cradled in his arm, his thick black lashes resting on his chubby little cheeks.

“Come, my loves,” Sasha says as he guides us downstairs to the priest.

Sasha

The priest’s hands shake nervously as he says the blessing and places the drops of water on my son.

Abram is strong and begins to pull at Anya’s dress, wanting her breast. My angel coos to him, pulling the material down and offering her nipple to his mouth.

The priest’s eyes snap up to lock on mine, and I hold his gaze. He continues with the blessing, not looking at my wife as she nurtures my son.

“You will bless her womb again,” I demand.

He prayed over her at Roman’s baptism, and Abram came nine months later. I know Anya wants one more, and my angel shall have what her heart desires.

“But Sasha — ” Anya begins, and I shake my head.

“There will be a blessing,” I say, and my words are final.

Pink hits her cheeks, but she nods, turning to the priest. Her breast is still offered to my son, and I watch as the priest tries to avoid her gaze while praying over her womb.