After a round and a half of sex at my place (only half because shower sex doesn’t work well and only using our hands doesn’t feel like it counts), Danya and I cuddle on my couch. I have on his shirt, which means he’s just in boxers, all his tattoos exposed. Anytime he looks at me he groans and kisses me, even if I have my mouth full of the Chinese food we ordered.
“Danya!” I complain after swallowing. “You’re going to make me choke on the noodles.”
He chuckles and pulls me closer. “I have a break and you have a break. Let’s see if we can tolerate each other overnight, da?”
“That’s something reserved for boyfriends,” I grumble.
I’m still not entirely sure where we stand on that. He introduced me to Lilah as ‘his’ Abby, but not as his girlfriend. I feel like we’re still up in the air. Granted, I was ready to kill just because someone had a gun pointed at him ... then again I think I would have done that if there was a gun pointed at Mona or Lilah too.. and I just met Lilah.
“So being willing to take a bullet for you doesn’t earn me that title?”
“We were fake dating for two weeks.”
“What about it was fake, really?”
“You tell me!” I stand up and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m serious. I told you from the beginning, the mafia thing doesn’t bother me. I can obviously handle your sass and constant come-ons. I can handle a lot, but you don’t want commitment. You said we’d try it out, but that doesn’t mean labels are involved and I don’t want to ...”
Danya cocks his head to the side even though his eyes travel the length of me. He sighs and spreads his arms over the back of the couch. “You don’t want to what, Cupcake?”
“You’re smart, you fill in the blank,” I grumble.
“There’s plenty I’d like to fill,” he answers before reaching for the hem of his shirt where it rests on my thighs.
I swat at his hand. “Can we have a conversation where you’re not flirting with me?”
His smile melts. Cold Danya is back, the calculating gaze, the way his lips twitch slightly down, his expression in general makes me feel like I’ve disappointed him, which is definitely not the goal, but I stand my ground.
“I can’t fill in the blank, Abby. You haven’t given me enough information. What don’t you want to do?”
I take a slow breath.
“You don’t want to be with me?”
“No, I obviously do,” I argue.
He moves closer. “You don’t want me to touch you at all in public?”
“I’m ... trying to get used to that, that’s not-”
“Then what?” He stands up, towering over me. “That’s what my ‘smarts’ come up with when you give me half sentences and hide things from me.”
“I’m not hiding things!” I exclaim. “I’m just not saying things. It’s different.”
He arches an eyebrow, crossing his thick arms over his chest. The silence stretches until I can’t stand it. I’m uncomfortable and the way he’s staring at me makes me feel wrong and off.
“I don’t want you to leave because I get too boring or because I’m too much or ...”
“You’re not too much.”
“You’ve known me for three weeks, Daniel. That’s barely anything.”
“Which is why I want to spend the night. I want to get to know you. How can you give me a title if you don’t know me and I don’t know you, huh?”
“I don’t even know why you want the title. You said you didn’t want commitment and a title pretty much cements that,” I grumble, stumbling a step back. “Look, it’s not that I don’t like you. I do. You make me feel amazing, but ...”
“Issues with the ex?”
“No, issues with me. I can’t put myself through what I went through with Aaron again. I can’t give my heart to someone who only wants me for sex or who only wants me when things are easy. You’ve gotten to be the hero over and over again, will I be enough for you without the excitement?”
“You are plenty exciting, Abigail,” he whispers, unfolding his arms and taking my hands. “I like being here with you. My whole life is drama and murder and intensity. I love it, I do, but I also like these easy moments with you. I like holding you in my arms and at least being half sure you’re not planning on stabbing me. I like baking with you. I like that you’re not afraid of me. I like this,” he insists, then drops my hands to take my face between his palms. “I like you.”
My body trembles as I watch him. I don’t want to believe it mostly because it’s exactly what I want to hear. But Danya doesn’t say things to pad my ego or to make things easier. He never has. He’s never given me a reason to question if he’s lying and he’s obviously never lied about his compliments or flirting, considering what we just spent the last two hours doing.
“You want to try this ... really?” I ask.
“I know you do too,” he murmurs. “You beat a man for threatening your business and people you care about. You yelled at someone who took a tip and was willing to drug you even though you were drunk. You don’t cower away from anything now, not even your ex.”
“I’m scared of spiders,” I admit, my nose wrinkling. “I don’t like bugs at all.”
“We’ll have to hire someone to take care of spiders. I’m not fond of them either. When my brother got that damn spider tattoo, I refused to stand on that side of him unless it was covered,” he admits.
“You’re a killer and you’re afraid of spiders?”
“They have too many legs and they bite and if we keep talking about them, I’m going to be convinced that there are spiders around.” he glances around, then pulls me against him. “I’m good to protect you against lizards.”
“I like lizards.”
Somehow, we end up talking about what we’re afraid of. When I bring up clowns, Danya nods. “That’s not fear. That’s common sense. It’s a proper thing to be afraid of. What are they hiding under that makeup?”
“And the shoes!” I agree.
He grins and cuddles me close again. “I’ll protect you from clowns and horror movies. We’ll figure out how to deal with spiders and rats.”
“I can handle rats. I used to have them as pets when I was a kid,” I say.
He unwraps his arms from around me. “And we’re done here.”
I shove him back and he chuckles, pulling me into a kiss. “I knew you wanted me, Cupcake.”
“What do you keep calling me in Russian?” I ask as I play with his fingers.
He hesitates and blushes. I think it’s the first time he’s ever looked embarrassed around me. He clears his throat. “It just ... it just slips out sometimes. It’s ...”
“There has to be some translation you can give me,” I insist.
“It’s a pet name, that’s all.”
“Are you going to teach me Russian?”
“Learn it by kissing me long enough. Then you’ll be able to make your mouth into the shapes you’ll need,” he purrs.
I can’t resist. I press my lips to his and Danya kisses me slowly. He steadily lies me back onto the couch, stroking through my hair, then pulling my thighs around him. He makes me feel small, feminine, perfect. He licks into my mouth and lets out a slow groan.
Danya draws out every moment, like he wants to take his time and memorize the way we move together, how we feel. When he strays from my mouth, he kisses along my jaw, making me pant, then continues along my throat.
“Danya ...” I moan.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. I don’t want to stop,” I insist.
“Have you had enough of me?”
“No,” I answer, my lips brushing his again. “You should spend the night ... or stay until you annoy me.”
He chuckles and nips my bottom lip. “I want to fuck you against the window so you can watch the city move as I bury myself inside you.”
I nod against him. “Yes.”
“You’ll be completely naked. Anyone with a telescope-”
“Then we should hope someone’s watching with a telescope, shouldn’t we?” I ask as I lift my hips against his.
Danya groans and shakes his head. “The last thing anyone would call you is boring, Cupcake. And if they do call you that, they’re wrong.”
We follow through on his plan. He picks me up, walks me to the floor-to-ceiling windows, then strips me naked. I pull on his boxers until he pushes me back against the window and kisses down my body, pulling my leg over his shoulder to bury his face between my legs.
I gasp and press one palm to the chilly window and hold on to Danya’s head with the other until I come apart, shaking and whimpering. My head falls back against the glass and Danya draws back, staring up at me with his lips all shiny.
“Be careful. I like your head, don’t hurt it,” he says as he stands.
I pull him close and kiss up his neck and stand on my toes to bite his ear. “Fuck me.”
He groans and spins me around, spanking me hard. “Curse more.”
Danya presses my body against the window and slams into me. I moan and pant against the window, fogging it up with every breathy moan. “Danya!”
“Imagine someone looking up here, seeing you moaning as I fuck you hard. I want them to see you, to hear you, to know that only I can make you come like this, can make you so wild,” he growls in my ear.
I’m hoping for it right away. I want to be seen, want people to be jealous of me or Danya, either both, and to enjoy the view knowing that they are only getting a fraction of the pleasure. It takes me an embarrassingly short time to come for him, but he doesn’t stop, he just jerks my hips further back, so I’m bent over, holding onto the window sill to stay standing as Danya slams into me over and over again.
“Please!” I moan.
“You want me to fuck you harder?”
“Touch my ... Ugh, do it like in the bakery,” I say, unable to force the words out.
“Dirty girl, aren’t you?” He snarls, but his finger teases my ass again. He works it in and my whole body heats. It’s wrong, taboo, terrible in so many ways, but I like it. I like that he’s willing to push boundaries, try new things, and reward me with pleasure. “Zhizn moya!”
“Yes! Fuck me hard!” I beg.
Danya pushes us both over the edge, his finger buried in my ass, his cock buried so deeply inside me that I’m sure I’ll feel him forever. He barely jerks out in time, coming on my inner thigh as he holds onto me.
“Such a good girl for me,” he purrs.
“Only for you,” I say, breathlessly.
Danya gets me through another shower, then we lie in bed together. He glances under it and I swat at him. “There are no spiders.”
“I was checking for clowns,” he teases.
I curl against him and huff. “Now I’m going to have nightmares about them.”
“My gun is on the bedside table. I’ll take care of any clown that comes in here and tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to do the same,” he promises before yawning. “Goodnight, Cupcake.”
“Night, stud,” I hum.
He chuckles and kisses the top of my head, rubbing my back as I lie on his chest. I could get used to this.