Ava
You learn a lot about yourself the first time your five-year-old stepdaughter is about to catch you spread out on the kitchen counter with her father on his knees between your legs, Seconds away from eating you out.
For instance, I learned how many seconds it takes for me to shove my husband away while simultaneously yanking down my dress and hopping off the kitchen counter all the while pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.
In total, It takes me five seconds.
Nikolai falls back on his ass a few feet behind me, laughter bubbling up his throat as he watches my frantic state.
“Shut up” I snap, my voice barely above a hiss as I tug my dress down, desperately trying to smooth over the fabric with my hands.
“Relax, Solnyshko” Nikolai says, his voice infuriatingly calm. How he can be so calm when his daughter is seconds away from walking in on us? I have no idea.
How did we get here? The last thing I remember is wanting to talk to him, but then he kissed me, and my will to move my lips beyond his went flying out the window.
It’s official. There’s a demon inside me and she’s horny and needy, the complete opposite of regular Ava
“You’re adorable when you panic,” He says, getting up and straightening to his full height.
All I wanted to do was talk. Just talk, but then he goes and kisses me, and I forget why I’m even here in the first place.
I’m about to shoot him a retort when the kitchen door swings open and Kira walks in, her baby blue dress in hand and a smile plastered on her chubby face.
“Papa” Kira chirps excitedly, her tiny voice slicing through the air.
How did she even get here? Kat was supposed to be putting her to bed. Not that I’m complaining, of course; her presence is a pleasant distraction from all the mistakes my vagina was willing to make seconds ago.
Nikolai, ever the picture of composure, fixes his daughter with one of those rare genuine smiles he reserves only for her.
The slight tip of his lips momentarily catches me off guard but I’m quick to push away the knot tightening in my stomach at the sight of him smiling.
“Moya malen’kaya printsessa,” he says smoothly, his tone softening as he makes his way over to her, crouching down until he’s at her eye level.
(My little Princess).
“What are you doing here?”
“When did you wake up?”
We both ask at the same time. Nikolai and I both share a look before redirecting our gaze to Kira, whose eyes are bouncing between me and her father confusion making its way between her brows.
“Am I in trouble?” She asks, her voice lowering like she’s the one who’s been caught in a compromising position.
“No, moya malen’kaya printsessa,” Nikolai says quickly, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him.
“We just wanted to know why you’re up.” I say stepping forward and crouching beside her, “Did you have a bad dream again?” I ask.
Since the first night Kira wandered into my bedroom with her stuffed giraffe tucked into her side, she’s made it a habit to come find me whenever she has nightmares. I assume that’s what happened now. Kira’s nightmares aren’t exactly limited to nighttime only. It didn’t matter when, if it was during the day or at night, Kira’s nightmares didn’t have a time frame and were as recurring as sunshine on a summer’s day.
Kira shakes her head, her dark curls bouncing as she does, “No,” she says, carefully. “I just wanted to show Papa my new dress.”
My eyes fall to the blue fabric she’s clutching to her chest. It’s the dress she picked out for Tatiana’s wedding.
I don’t know whether to laugh or be puzzled by her need to show her father a dress that she’ll be wearing in two days. Children really were a mystery.
“Isn’t it pretty?” She asks, thrusting the dress towards her father’s face. Her eyes shimmer with excitement as she waits expectantly for her father’s response.
“Of course, it is moya malen’kaya printsessa,” he says, smiling. She giggles, and I try to pretend that those same lips, which are tipped up in a smile, hadn’t been pressed between my thighs just seconds ago.
Fuck. Goosebumps erupt across my skin and Kira lifts a brow in my direction.
“Are you cold?” She asks, and I quickly pull myself together, forcing a smile.
“No, sweetie, I’m fine,” I answer, trying to ignore the heat Nikolai’s touch had imprinted on my skin.
She shrugs, her curious eyes finding her father, “Papa, do you think it’ll look pretty on me?” she asks, her excitement filling the kitchen.
Nikolai pretends to inspect the fabric, reaching for the seams with his fingers. I notice Nikolai is gentler with his daughter, something that surprised me the first time we met but also something that quickly melts my heart and makes me question if I know him.
“How about you try on the dress for your father.” I offer and Kira’s gaze lights up in excitement. Nikola meets my gaze, oblivious to what I’m trying to do.
I need to think and in order to do so, I need him as far away from me as possible, preferably in the next room.
Kira bounces on her toes, eagerness written all over her face. “Okay” she exclaims, grabbing Nikolai’s hand, “C’mon Papa I’m going to need you to help me with the zipper”
Nikolai stands up, his large hand enveloping Kira’s tiny one as she drags him towards the door and out of the kitchen. His attention momentarily diverts to me and my heart thuds in my chest when I see in his eyes that he’s telling me we aren’t remotely through with talking.
Heat spreads across my skin and I stand to my feet, taking a step back as I try to breathe through the tension coiling in my chest.
I close my eyes, willing my thoughts to align as the events of the last ten minutes replay in my mind.
Me coming in here to talk to Nikolai. Nikolai telling me I dismiss everything that happens between us, me trying to argue that I don’t even though my record clearly states otherwise. Him kissing me like he hates me and scraping his teeth against my pulse until I can’t breathe. Him setting me down on the counter and kneeling l between my legs in front of me while telling me to spread them so he can get a better look. Me feeling like a fucking goddess because he looked at me like I alone welded the power to break him.
Releasing a shuddering breath, I collapse against the counter behind me, gripping the edge as I try to keep my knees from buckling.
Okay, so maybe calling what happened last night a mistake wasn’t my brightest idea but what was I meant to do? I was trying to own up to my part. To apologise for what happened.
Did I misread the entire situation? Did Nikolai actually want me? And most importantly Did I want him?
Fuck.
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the strands. I can’t want him. Sure, he’s good at giving mind-blowing orgasms, and yes, I agree, maybe I do get off on him speaking dirty Russian to me.
But he’s a psychopath who wants to kill my father.
I can’t want him.
I can’t.