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“A little, but nothing I can’t handle. But you… oh, my God, look at you, Anastasia.” I don’t dare touch her belly after Faina made it very clear how protective Anastasia has become over her body. In my mind, watching Viktor stab her only occurred a few days ago, so it’s a struggle to see her standing here, completely fine.
I’ve never known terror like I felt in that moment.
“You left me,” she whimpers, fat tears rolling down her pale cheeks.
Before I can reply, her lips crash against mine and all thought of explanation and reason flees from my mind.
I want her.
Every fiber of my being aches to be reunited with her, as if her touch will bring me into the present and prevent my mind from lingering in the past. Conscious of her swollen belly, I cup her face with both hands and kiss her back hard, swiping her tears away with my thumb. Each kiss is wet and short as her sobs keep bubbling up. In between gasping for air and kissing, she slowly gets a handle on her grief as kissing me becomes more important.
We should talk.
Talking becomes pointless as my desire for her overflows any other sense of reason. She pushes me backward continuously, walking with me until my legs hit the bed, and gravity takes care of the rest.
I fall backward and she immediately crawls over the top of me. The towel falls away, and suddenly, I have a lapful of naked Anastasia. Her skin is damp and dewy from her back, her hair remains dry and piled on top of her head, and as she kisses me deeply, I slide my hands cautiously down her body until I can grasp her waist.
Then she sits up and stares down at me with both her hands planted on my abdomen.
It’s impossible not to look.
A thin, pink scar runs a few inches up on her belly. Our eyes meet for a brief second, then I move my thumb gently over the swell of her belly and caress the scar.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop this.”
Sniffling slightly, she slides one of her hands over the top of mine, then moves her other hand up my chest to hover over where my gunshot wound is hidden beneath clothing and bandages.
“I couldn’t save you either.”
“Hardly comparable,” I murmur.
She prods my chest. “Don’t. I should have saved you.”
“No,” I say firmly, caressing up her arm until I’m cupping her face with my palm. “It’s my job to save you, and I failed. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re here now,” she whispers, nuzzling into my palm.
“So are you,” I remind her, distantly aware of what Faina told me about how reclusive Anastasia has become. “So are you.”
Those are the last words we speak. With joined hands, my clothes quickly end up on the floor and our lips lock together in a dance of constant kisses. Highly aware of how heavily pregnant Anastasia is, we end up on our sides with my body wrapping around her from behind. She grumbles slightly about the position, but those quiet complaints are muted the moment my cock slides inside her, and suddenly, everything is alright.
It’s like two Lego pieces clicking into place or the brief moment when the sun and the moon pass each other and fit together perfectly. We belong with one another.
And being intertwined sets the world back on its correct axis.
Fucking Anastasia is like wrapping my cock in satin. She’s exactly as I remember, exactly as I crave and yet somehow, she’s hotter and sweeter than ever. I’m quickly addicted to kissing her constantly and thrusting into her with slow, controlled movements just so I can hear the sweet, soft moan pull from her throat like a strand of silk. My arms wrap around her and she clings to me, rocking back into my thrusts the best she can in her condition.
I remain careful and controlled, lavishing attention over her swollen lips and hot, kissable neck. Her body slots against me perfectly, and each thrust drives me to reach deeper and deeper inside her, where I belong.
I will never leave her again.
When we come, we come together, and all tears are forgotten as Anastasia loses herself to the pleasure that consumes her. I fuck her through her orgasm, rocking into each rhythmic clench of her pussy around my cock as I fill her up to the brim.
Then we collapse, panting and breathless in each other’s arms.
I hold her close, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead as she nuzzles into me. This is where I belong.
I no longer feel like I’m walking in a weird dream where the world left me behind.