TWELVE
Nikita
"Are you my dad?" Zion asks, staring up at me with wide eyes.
I don't know how much Lucy has told Zion about his biological father. I used to shuttle Aleksandra's kids around to preschool, but I didn't watch them. I don't know much about kids; I certainly don't have any of my own.
I bend down to Zion's level, meeting him face-to-face. "Would you like me to be your dad?" I ask, giving the kid a friendly smile. If he'd rather call me Nikita, that would be fine.
Zion nods enthusiastically and scrunches his nose. A slight giggle slips past his lips, and I embrace the kid in a hug. "I'd love it if you'd call me Dad," I say. Whatever Zion is most comfortable with is fine by me.
The kid is as close as I'll come to having children. Not that I couldn't, but it hasn't exactly been in the cards. Although I'm married now, I'm not sure what will develop. Lucy hasn't exactly admitted that she wants to sleep with me again, but we did have a fun little rendezvous at the club before we were interrupted.
I exhale a sigh. Just thinking about Lucy, makes me antsy. The fact that we're married, I want to carry her up to my bedroom and show her what it's like to be married and worshipped.
But I can't very well do that while the kid is awake, and asking Hannah to watch Zion any longer seems unfair to her.
"Dad, can we go to the playground?" Zion asks, ripping me from my dirty thoughts involving Lucy.
"You already asked your mom," I say. The kid is tricky and playing us against one another, isn't he?
"Mom said later," Zion quips before Lucy has time to answer. "It's later."
"How about you help me in the garden, and we give your mom a break?"
"A break from what?" Zion asks, glancing from me to Lucy. The kid can be a handful. How did Lucy manage to work full-time and raise him by herself?
Zion climbs me like I'm a jungle gym and uses my arms to do pull-ups. The kid is already strong for his small stature. He uses his legs, climbing up me the rest of the way. So much for my suit remaining clean and tidy.
"Having fun?" I ask.
Zion giggles and nods enthusiastically. "Yes. Mom doesn't let me monkey her."
"Monkey me?" I don't know what that means.
Lucy is covering her lips, trying not to crack up laughing.
"You're my monkey bars," Zion says matter of factly, like I'm his jungle gym.
* * *
The kid is finally in bed.
I managed to contact Manhattan Academy earlier in the afternoon. Zion is lined up and enrolled in school starting on Monday. Tomorrow, I'll get his transcript sent over as per their request. How much paperwork can there be for a six-year-old?
"You're sleeping with me," I say, taking Lucy's hand as I lead her past the bedroom where Zion is fast asleep.
"I am?"
I swear her breath hitches.
"Do you not want to?"
She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. It's a nervous habit that I've caught her doing, and I reach out, my thumb brushing against her lip, stopping her. "I do," she says and leans into my hand. "I just don’t want to screw this up between us."
I don't want her getting into my head, making me question what I'm about to suggest. "Come to bed," I say and lead her to my room. I slam the door shut abruptly with my foot, giving us the much-needed privacy that I've been craving with her all day.
She practically swoons into my arms as I pull her tight against me, our lips crashing together fervently. I back her up against the door, my hands pinning her against the wood, keeping her hands firmly planted above her head.
"We never quite finished what we started," I whisper into her ear, nipping the lobe, and she whimpers at my touch.
"No more interruptions?"
I wish that were a promise that I could make, but I don't intend on anyone bothering us tonight. "It's just you and me," I say.
Her eyelids flutter as she stares at me, gasping, already breathless. She's a beautiful sight, cheeks rosy and flushed, her lips swollen from our heated exchange.
"Turn around," I command, my hips making her face the door as I move her hair to the side over her shoulder. Her skin is perfectly freckled, creamy, and soft as I kiss a trail down her back, unzipping the white dress that she wore today.
She was positively stunning in the courthouse, becoming my wife.
And now I intend to claim her heart, body, and soul.
"Nikita?" she whispers and glances over her shoulder back at me.
"Just relax." I can sense the tension, and I massage her shoulders as I let the gown fall to her feet. She's only wearing panties under the dress, and they barely qualify as useful. I've seen thongs bigger that covered more assets.
My cock hardens and twitches, straining against my trousers. I grip her hair into my fist, guiding her head back to the side, kissing her, hungrily taking what is mine, her.
Her hands press against the wooden door, and she wiggles her cute, pert ass at me. "Take them off," she says.
"No," I growl. I don't like being told what to do, even if I want to rip her panties and throw them across the room. "You'll wait."
A whimper murmurs from her throat, and I spin her around again, my hands at her lower back, pulling her to follow as I walk backward and approach the bed. "Sit," I command.
"I'm not a dog."
I snort at her remark. No, she's most certainly not. "I like it when you listen, Malish," I say and cup her cheek.
She leans into my touch, and I lean down, my breath teasing hers. I don't give her what she so desperately wants yet. But I will, in time.
"Tell me what you want me to do; I'm all yours."
Her words are perfect, just like every inch of her. "Lie back. I want you to touch yourself," I command.
She gulps and shuffles back on the mattress. There's a hint of hesitation and nervousness, but she denies me nothing.
Her fingers caress her skin while I loosen my tie and watch her touch herself.
In seconds, I'm hot, and it's stifling. I yank my tie off and let it hit the floor. My suit coat is swiftly shucked onto a nearby chair. My white dress shirt is far too confining. I'm boiling at the sight of Lucy nearly naked on my bed.
I'm not the most patient man, but I want to take in the sight of her naked, pleasuring herself, and discover what she likes before I go in for the kill.
Her chest rises and falls as her breathing grows louder. "Don't hold back," I warn.
She doesn't, her legs spread, giving me an ample view, but she hasn't removed her panties yet. It's torture. I want to be that piece of thin, lacy fabric sliding right between her folds, rubbing her and making her moan.
My shift is suffocating. I can't be bothered with undoing each little button. There are too many right now. I rip my shirt open, and the buttons fling off and bounce on the wooden floorboards.
"I want you to touch me," Lucy whispers. "Please."