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The pain in my lower belly has now become a steady ache. I sigh heavily, shifting slightly, but even that small movement sends a spark of awareness through my body. The ache that was once there purely because of my cramps feels different now. My skin is too sensitive, and my nerves are tingling with something unfamiliar, yet also something undeniable.
And it’s all their fault.
The way that Mikhail had held my wrist, the way that he had brought my fingers to his mouth, the way that his tongue had slid over the length of my digits…
The way that Nikolai had held onto my body, the way that he had whispered into my ear, the way that he had pressed himself against me…
Heat pools low in my belly as both my thighs press together instinctively.
I shouldn’t be feeling like this.
Not now.
Not ever.
I shift again, frustration curling through me, but it only makes everything worse.
A whimper slips from my lips before I can stop it. My body is flushed, the warmth of my own skin suddenly too much, too overwhelming.
My body is too aware of the fact that they aren't here, but instead of filling me with relief, the fact only leaves me feeling dread.
If not them…then who?
I can’t stop thinking about them.
The sharp contrast between them; one dark, one light, one brooding, one teasing.
Both are equally dangerous.
Both are equally devoted.
Both are equally mine.
My breathing is uneven now, and my fingertips are twitching by my side, aching to touch, to chase relief.
I shouldn’t.
I really shouldn’t.
But when I close my eyes, they’re there.
Nikolai, with his sharp eyes roaming all over me slowly, deliberately, like he’s memorising every inch of me. The way hisvoice drops when he calls medarling,the word curling around us like smoke, thick and heavy. The way his hot breath fans against my neck as he whispers to me in Russian, his hands roaming lower, teasing me, torturing me too.
Mikhail, with his smirk softening at the corners whenever he murmursbeauty,his fingers brushing along my cheek like he’s marking me with something invisible, but something permanent too. His smirk softens as he leans in, his lips brushing over mine, before he trails down, down…
My breathing hitches. My thighs squeeze tighter.
I tell myself it’s just the hormones; it’s just the rush of emotions from everything happening at once.
That’s all.
It’s all just biology.
This is just relief.
But when my hand dips beneath the blanket, sliding between my thighs, and through my wet folds, the truth is impossible to ignore.
It’sthem.