Page 46 of Broken Vows (Marital Privileges #4)
As he continues to coach me, I think back on the past few days. They’ve been wonderful, filled with moments like these—simple yet profound. We don’t need to spend money to feel wealthy. It is in the connection we share.
We’ve grown closer, our bond tightening more with every second we spend together.
As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the isolated road we’re traveling down, my heart grows heavy with guilt. Not just for the secrets I’m keeping from Mikhail, but from how I reacted when I learned some of his.
“I shouldn’t have spent money I hadn’t earned,” I confess, my voice barely a whisper. “I had no right to be angry. You had already given so much.”
Mikhail’s expression softens as he strokes his thumb across my hand. “I don’t care about the money. It’s yours to spend, and I’d give you the world if I could.”
“I know that. Truly, I do. I just…” My words trail off, an excuse, the easy way out. “This car cost a lot. It will take years for me to pay it off, possibly even decades.” He scoffs, and I grit my teeth. “The tips at Ember’s are good, but not good enough to purchase a sports car.”
“You won’t feel that way in twelve months.”
“I will.”
“No, you won’t,” he argues, his tone still humored even with it having a slight hint of arrogance.
“Mikhail…”
He pulls the world out from beneath my feet when he confesses. “You won’t because you don’t know that I removed the top page of our agreement because I had it amended before presenting it to you.”
My heart thuds wildly as I struggle to concentrate on both him and the road.
It is lucky we are on an isolated road or we may have gotten in a wreck by now.
I blink back tears when Mikhail twists to face me before confessing, “You won’t get solely fifty million dollars at the end of our contract. You will get five hundred and fifty million dollars.”
I stare at him, my mind struggling to process his words. “What?”
He suggests I pull over before we crash before he announces without the slightest bit of worry hardening his handsome face, “I signed the entirety of our combined inheritance to you.”
“Why would you do that?”
Tears fill my eyes as I realize the depth of his love and how it has never waned. “Because a man’s wealth isn’t measured by the digits in his bank account?—”
“It’s from the memories in his heart,” we say at the same time.
When he nods, my heart squeezes.
“Mikhail…” I should say more. I need to say more. I just can’t.
I’m in shock, and it deepens when he says, “I didn’t want his money, Emmy.
I only wanted you.” He tries to make out he’s not the sentimental schmuck I made him out to be multiple times during our perfect but far too short three years.
“Which means in a little over eleven months, you can buy this car or that car…” He points as if a random car is driving past. There isn’t one.
We’re alone, and I realize he is in this for the long haul when he says, “Or any fucking car you want. As long as it is a manual and I’m your instructor of choice. ”
The horn honks when I use the steering wheel as leverage to lunge myself at him.
“Always,” I murmur over his lips before sealing my mouth over his. “You will always be my instructor of choice.”
One brush of our tongues and the world and everything in it fades.
As I rake my fingers through Mikhail’s long, silky hair, I drag my tongue along the roof of his mouth before kissing him as if I am starved of his taste. I tug his hair, loving the moan it produces, before I straddle his lap and grind down slowly.
A shudder rolls through me. He’s hard, but I know all too well that we won’t be moving from home plate anytime soon.
Mikhail loves foreplay. Almost as much as me? I truly don’t know anymore. I think I may have risen to the top of the pile after his confession.
The thought sees me rocking against him harder, the friction exquisite. I grind against him on repeat, stroking myself with the hard rod of flesh between his legs. My breathing labors as the tingles of an orgasm surface, but I can’t stop. The buzz is amazing, and my horniness feeds off it.
“Please,” I murmur breathlessly. “I need you.” My nostrils flare as I breathe in his scent, my lungs deprived like we spent more than an hour apart.
“No, you don’t,” Mikhail denies. He adjusts his position, making us more comfortable, before he spreads his thighs wide and arches his pelvis. “You’ve got everything you need right here. Keep going, Emmy. Make me come in my pants like a virgin at a whore house.”
I shouldn’t laugh. His analogy isn’t funny.
Mikhail comes from an extremely bigamist family.
Whore houses were very much a part of their welcome-to-manhood rituals.
My laughter just can’t be helped. I love how wide Mikhail’s berth went when he steered his life down its own path.
He skipped almost every horrid sacrament.
I would like to say all, but unfortunately, not all of them were reserved for adults.
When my rocks slow, my thoughts trapped in the past, Mikhail shifts my focus back to him by rolling his hips ever so slightly.
He’s so thick and long, his piercings stimulating my clit seconds after the mouthwatering rub of the crown of his glorious cock.
They make me ache, and strip everything back until only the insane need to orgasm matters.
I hug his thighs with my knees as a wildfire blazes through me. My nipples pucker as my breasts grow heavy with need. I can’t stop grinding. Rocking. I take and take and take until Mikhail’s body trembles as ruefully as mine.
“Yes,” I moan, conscious Mikhail’s release is almost as formed as mine. I want him to come with me, to surrender to the power stronger than any man.
And I know the perfect way to achieve that.
I am near mindless with need after a handful of grinds. The tension is blinding, and the friction can’t be matched. My panties slick with wetness as goose bumps race across my skin, but the best is still to come. I just need him closer to the edge so I can force him over it with me.
“Christ, Emmy,” Mikhail hisses between his teeth when my wetness is evident even through layers of clothes. “You make me so hard it almost hurts.”
The need in his tone sets off an avalanche of touches and moans. We make out like teenagers in their parents’ borrowed car, and I love every minute of it.
My vision blurs, my eyes losing their focus, as Mikhail’s deliriously handsome face becomes ravaged with desire. His teeth graze his lower lip as sweat dots his temples, but our pace never diminishes. We’re wild with desire and almost clawing at each other.
Over the next several minutes, we move in sync, dry humping with our clothes on. My pussy aimlessly seeks something to cling to as signs of a blinding orgasm race for the finish line. Every grind, thrust, and moan brings me closer and closer to the edge.
I’m there, on the cusp of riding the wave cresting in my stomach, but it is scary being in the clouds and having nothing to cling to.
“Keep going,” Mikhail begs when the power of my impending climax startles me.
It feels intense, like it will be the strongest I’ll ever have, and he hasn’t even removed his dick from his pants yet.
“Just like that. Good girl. You’re going to make me come so hard…
in my fucking pants.” He locks his eyes with mine, and the love in them places me an inch from the finish line.
“But you like that, don’t you, Ember? You love having the ability to make your husband come in his pants.
” I nod, unashamed, and it makes him smile. “Then do it, wife . Make me come.”
I thrash against him as an orgasm pulses through me. My core cramps violently as my limbs shake, and Mikhail watches every shudder with beady, lust-filled eyes.
His cock thickens further, but that is the only sign of the excitement roaring through him. There’s no stain on the front of his jeans, no scent of his release, because his wife reference sent me freefalling over the edge before I could force him to join me.
Needing him to feel the connection, I maintain eye contact while brushing my mouth against his. Spasms dart through me when I trek my tongue across his top lip before piercing it between them. I kiss him with everything I have, doubling the rock of his hips.
He spreads my thighs wide as he uses my body and my kiss to find his release. His pace quickens, and after several slamming thrusts, he climaxes with a hiss. I swallow his groan when he growls into my mouth. His orgasm is as raw and emotionally moving as his kisses will forever make me feel.