Page 17

Chapter 17

Checkmate, Heart

Dmitri

I blink, coming to consciousness with a start as I feel the weight of a lithe body on top of me. The morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room and illuminating the figure straddling my hips.

Erin.

Her coppery red hair cascades over her shoulders, framing her face as she gazes down at me with a playful smile. My sleepy brain struggles to process the situation, my body reacting instinctively. The softness of her thighs pressed against mine has my cock turning to stone beneath her.

As if reading my thoughts, Erin shifts her weight, grinding her hips against me, eliciting a low groan from my throat. She leans forward, her hair brushing against my chest as she moves her lips down my body, leaving a hot trail in her wake. My hands find her shoulders, gripping her gently, her muscles flexing beneath my fingers.

My mind races, trying to piece together if this is real or a fragment of a fever dream. Erin reaches my groin, her breath against my throbbing cock. She looks up at me, her green eyes sparkling with mischief, before running her tongue slowly along the length of my shaft.

“Look who’s in charge now,” I growl, caught between sleepy confusion and wild arousal. My grip on Erin tightens as I guide her head where I want her, losing myself in the anticipation of her mouth enveloping me. Her warmth and eagerness send waves of pleasure crashing over me, leaving me bewildered and utterly captivated.

My breath catches as Erin’s hot mouth engulfs me, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head of my cock. She takes me deep, so deep that I feel the back of her throat convulsing around me. The sensation is exquisite, and I want to push deeper, to own her completely. Shockwaves of pleasure pulse through my veins.

I must be the luckiest fucker alive.

Utterly bewildered by this unexpected and so welcome wake-up call, my body is ablaze. My hands tangle in her flaming hair, guiding her movements as she works me with fervent enthusiasm. Each bob of her head and flick of her tongue stokes my arousal higher. And I go to my destruction willingly.

Erin looks up at me through hooded eyes, a mischievous glint sparkling in their green depths as she slides my cock out, licking at the head. Even in my haze of lust, I can’t help but marvel at her beauty and the raw sensuality she exudes.

“You said you wanted me to play you,” she drawls, then swallows my cock again, deep and delicious.

Wild with need, I begin thrusting into Erin’s willing mouth, setting a faster pace. Her lips stretch deliciously around my shaft as I plunge deeper, chasing the release building at the base of my spine. The obscene slurping sounds fill the room, punctuated by my ragged breaths and guttural groans.

“You’re everything, woman,” I rasp, my voice strained with impending climax. “Fuck, Erin!”

With a final, shuddering thrust, I explode in her mouth. She swallows convulsively, milking me for every last drop until I collapse back against the pillows, utterly spent and dazed. A satisfied smirk plays on her lips as she lifts her head and swallows the last of my release. Her tongue darts out to lick a stray drop from the corner of her mouth, and I shudder at the erotic sight.

As I catch my breath, the reality of what just transpired begins to sink in. Erin curls up beside me as if this is just another regular morning, her head resting on my chest. I wrap an arm around her possessively.

“You can have your way with me any time you please,” I manage to mumble.

“You promised you’d let me suck your dick,” Erin chirps playfully, trailing her fingers along my sweat-slicked skin and letting her hand drift lower to cup my spent cock possessively, “if I was a good girl. Figured I was very good last night.”

I groan, my cock starting to stir again at her teasing.

“Mm, you were a good girl alright,” I say, leaning down and biting her neck. “You let me ride you for as long as I wanted.”

She laughs, flipping over and straddling me. “I thought I’d also give you something to think about during the game tonight.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. This woman. Always one step ahead, always leaving me wrecked. “Well, mission accomplished. That was...memorable.”

Erin grins, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to my jaw, grinding her hips over me. “Glad you enjoyed yourself, stud. Now it’s time to go be a responsible parent. I need to freshen up. You’ve got a big night ahead of you.”

She stretches as she stands, lazy and catlike, utterly unbothered by her own nakedness. And I—fuck, I stare. My eyes rake over every inch of her, the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist, the long, lean lines of her legs. She’s a goddamn goddess, and I’m not letting her leave before wrecking her again. I pounce, pulling her back down and slapping her ass cheek.

“Not so fast, solnyshko . We’re not done here.”

She squeals, but submits eagerly, letting me push her back on the sheets.

“Spread those legs for me, will you?” I demand, pushing her thighs open and trailing down, squeezing her perky tits possessively.

I need to fuck her again, to memorize every sound she makes when she falls apart beneath me.

She squirms as my tongue finds her opening. I lick and bite, reveling in her taste, in her moans as she shamelessly writhes her hips over my face. I push a finger into her tight cunt, feeling her convulse around me, and I hasten the pace of my thrusts, licking her fervently.

“Dmitri, ohmygawd, Dmitri,” she screams, unraveling on my face, with my name on her lips.

I could die a happy man today.

But not yet. She is still pulsating as I pull myself up, lining my cock with her glistening entrance, pushing inside in one long stroke. She moans as I start to thrust through her orgasm, looking up at me with wild eyes. I increase the pace, claiming her the way I want. Frenzied, unhinged, and consumed by desperation, like the relentless, chaotic storm of the Shostakovich Sonata she performed last night.

It doesn’t take long until we both reach our peak, my cock pulsating in her core for a long time afterward, unwilling to pull out and set her free. Finally, I roll over and let myself fall on the pillows, surrendering to gravity.

We lie there in silence, neither of us willing to be the first one to shatter the moment. I want to stay here with her forever.

Bare. Exhausted. Complete.

But then little footsteps pad down the hallway, and reality slams into me like a check against the boards.

“Alright, vixen,” I groan, dragging myself upright. “You’ve had your fun. Now let me go be a good dad while you try to conceal the fact that you’ve been thoroughly, freshly fucked.”

She lifts and stands slowly, completely unhurried, completely at ease in her own skin. Over her shoulder, she tosses me a dirty little smirk. “Have fun catching pucks, big guy. I’ll be cheering you on... loudly .”

And just like that— boom .

It hits me.

Hard. Fast. No warning.

I’m in love.

The realization rattles my bones, leaving me winded. It’s real. It’s inescapable. It’s the most terrifying, exhilarating truth I’ve ever faced. I want to grab her, drag her back into bed, and tell her everything—but then Ris calls for me from downstairs, and the day barrels forward whether I’m ready or not.

The house is quiet, washed in the soft glow of the morning. I find my daughter perched on a stool, still in her pajamas, munching an apple, her strands wild from sleep.

“Morning, Papa,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Making pancakes?”

“You know it, Amnushka.” I ruffle her hair, grabbing ingredients from the fridge. “Chocolate chip or blueberry?”

“Chocolate!” She bounces a little. “With whipped cream!”

I chuckle, setting to work. “One chocolate chip monster pancake, coming right up.”

But my mind isn’t here. It’s upstairs. With Erin. With the way she felt wrapped around me, the way she tasted, the way she completely unmade me and then had the audacity to walk away like it was nothing.

“Papa, you’re burning it!”

Ris’s voice snaps me back. She’s right—the edges are nearly black. I flip it quickly, scraping by on the save, but my head is still spinning.

Love.

The word beats through me like a war drum. A terrifying, inevitable march toward something I can’t control. Like watching the perfect shot sail toward the top corner—you know exactly where it’s going, but there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it.

“Can I have more whipped cream?” Ris asks, already reaching for the can.

“Just a little,” I say automatically. Upstairs, Erin is probably getting dressed. Probably still warm from my bed. Definitely still marked by my hands. By my come.

Der’mo.

She has dreams. Big ones. The kind that light up her whole face when she talks about them. Tanglewood. Her YouTube channel. International tours. A future as limitless as she is.

And me? I’m a complication. A man with a six-year-old daughter and a career that keeps me on the road. The kind of life that makes relationships hard work.

“Papa?” Ris’s voice is small. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

I force a smile, reaching over to smooth her hair, wild and tangled. “Not sad, Amnushka. Just thinking.”

“About Erin?”

My hand stills mid-motion. “What makes you say that?”

She gives me a look that’s pure Elena—sharp, knowing, no-nonsense. “Because you look at her the way Prince Eric looks at Ariel.”

“How’s that?” I ask weakly.

“Like she’s magic.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

“She is kind of magical, isn’t she?” I say softly, more to myself than to her.

Ris nods, as if this is obvious. “Can she stay with us? Forever?”

The question cracks something in my chest. Because that’s the real issue, isn’t it? The one I haven’t let myself touch since I woke up with Erin’s mouth on me, since I watched her smile in her sleep, since I realized I want every morning to start with her.

“It’s complicated, Amnushka.”

“Why?” She frowns. “She makes you happy. She makes me happy.” She takes another bite of pancake, thoughtful. “And she likes us too. I can tell.”

If only it were that simple.

“Sometimes,” I pause, searching for words a six-year-old might understand, “people have different dreams. Different paths.”

“But why can’t her path be with us?”

Footsteps on the stairs make us both look up.

And there she is.

Solnyshko . My little sun, lighting up the room just by existing.

Her hair is damp from the shower, curling around her shoulders. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts, the hem brushing mid-thigh, exposing smooth legs that are way too distracting for this early in the morning. She looks soft, sleep-warm, utterly at home in my kitchen.

“Something smells amazing,” she says, padding toward us, her bare feet making no sound against the hardwood.

“Papa made chocolate chip pancakes!” Ris announces. “Want some?”

Erin meets my eyes over Ris’s head, and fuck, there’s still heat there. Still want. But something else too. Something soft and questioning.

“I should probably stick to protein,” she says, but her resolve wavers when Ris’s face falls. “Maybe just a bite of yours?”

She moves closer, the scent of my soap clinging to her skin.

It wrecks me.

Hits me with the force of a freight train, leaving me reeling and breathless. The visceral need to keep her here, to make her see that she belongs with us, that this could be her home.

But I can’t be selfish. Not when she has the whole world waiting for her.

“Coffee?” I manage, already reaching for a mug.

“Please.” She accepts it gratefully, her fingers brushing mine—warm, familiar, perfect.

This. This is what I want.

Her. Here. In my kitchen. Stealing bites of Ris’s pancakes. Wearing my clothes. Filling the house with her scent, her laughter, her warmth. Making this place feel like a home again.

But love isn’t about what I want.

It’s about what’s best for Ris. And for her.

Even if it breaks me.