Stolen Heir: Chapter 32

It’s Christmas Eve.

My mother loves Christmas. Usually she throws a huge party. Or, if it’s just our family, we do all the little Irish traditions like making a ring of holly for the door and putting a candle in the window. Then we cook our own fudge, and pop popcorn in the fireplace, and we open one present each, which is always pajamas.

Tonight I’m doing something different.

I’m going to the north end of the city, to Mikolaj’s house.

I’ll be back in the morning to make pancakes and open presents with my parents.

But tonight it’s Miko and me, all alone, for the first time in a long time.

I was amazed my parents agreed to it. I think they realized after the ballet that this is real, and it’s not going away.

After all, Miko saved my life. He spotted Kristoff before anybody else. He blocked the bullet headed right for my face. Then he shielded me with his own body. That’s what gave my father time to shoot Kristoff in the back.

I guess the Bratva will be needing a new boss all over again.

Hopefully the new one won’t hold the same grudge. The Russians don’t take kindly to broken alliances.

Still, it was worth it if it finally proved to my parents that Mikolaj loves me. Really, truly loves me.

I’m driving to see him in a new Jeep, army green this time instead of white. It was an early Christmas present from the Gallos. Aida picked it out, and Nero worked his magic on it. It roars like a jet engine now, not to mention the giant A/T tires, winch, lift kit, and rock sliders he added. It looks like I could drive it over a mountain.

Really, I just cruise down to the studio most of the time. I’m already working on another ballet.

The tires are great in the snow. The wind is blowing in off the lake, savage and wet.

I don’t care. Not even a blizzard could keep me home tonight.

Miko’s watching for me. He opens the gates automatically as I approach. I drive up to the house, which looks taller and darker than ever under the blanket of white covering the roof.

The front door stands open. I leave the Jeep out front and I run inside.

I step into the glow of hundreds and hundreds of candles. The whole entryway is filled with them—all different heights and sizes, glimmering in the dark. The candles are white and the light they cast is rich gold, filling the space with the scent of smoke and sweet beeswax. Mikolaj is welcoming me home.

I follow the path through the candles, across the main floor, out to the conservatory.

It’s always summer in here. The plants are as thick and green as ever. Mikolaj is waiting for me on the bench, as I knew he would be. He stands up when he sees me. He’s dressed more formally than usual, in a button-up shirt and trousers, his hair carefully combed. I can smell his cologne, and beneath that, the heart-pounding scent of his skin.

I run into his arms, kissing him. The kiss goes on and on, neither of us wanting it to end. I’m so happy to be back here. I don’t know how such a strange place could suit me so well, but it does. It was made for me, a hundred years before I was even born. And Miko bought it for us, before he knew I existed.

When we finally break apart, he brushes the last of the melting snow from my hair.

“God, I missed you,” he says.

“I have something for you,” I say. “It’s just little.”

I pull it out of my bag—wrapped, even though it’s impossible to disguise a book.

Mikolaj rips off the paper. He smiles when he sees what’s inside.

It’s a first edition of “Through the Looking Glass,” to replace the one I ruined. It has a rich red cover, stamped with a gold border and a cameo of the Queen of Hearts.

He opens to the first page—an illustration of a knight on horseback.

“You don’t have that in a tattoo yet,” I say, teasing him. “Do you have any blank space left? Maybe on the bottom of your foot?”

He kisses me again, squeezing me tight.

“Thank you, Nessa. It’s perfect.”

“So,” I say, “Should we go upstairs? I’ve been missing your room, too . . .”

“Don’t you want your present?” Miko says.

I try to hide my grin, without success. I’ve always loved gifts. Even the littlest ones make me happy. I love to be surprised.

I’m thinking Mikolaj probably got me a new record. He let me keep the old turntable, and the box of vintage vinyl. He knows I’ve been using it for the new ballet. So I’m guessing he has an addition for my collection.

But Miko really does surprise me, by dropping down on one knee.

“It’s not a gift exactly,” he says, “Since I didn’t pay for it . . .”

He pulls a little box out of his pocket and opens it up. Inside I see the last thing in the world I was expecting: my grandmother’s ring.

“What?” I gasp. “How did you—”

“I was a corpse when I met you, Nessa,” he says. “No breath. No heart. No life. I felt nothing. I cared about nothing. Then I saw you, and you woke me up inside. I was such a fool at first. I was so numb that I thought that spark must be hatred. If I was a normal person, I would have realized it was love. Love at first sight. From the second I laid eyes on you.”

He takes the ring out of the box and holds it up. The diamond sparkles as brightly as ever in its antique setting.

“I wanted to hate you, because that was easier. But as I watched you, it was impossible to ignore your kindness, your intelligence, your creativity. You’re good Nessa, truly and intrinsically good in a way that most people could never dream of being. But you’re so much more than that. You’re talented, and beautiful, and the sexiest fucking woman in the world. Shit, I wasn’t going to swear during this.”

I laugh, and also give a little sob, because I’m so, so happy. I want to speak, but I don’t want to interrupt Mikolaj. I want to hear everything he has to say.

“I hated being apart from you these last few weeks,” he says. “But when I got to know you Nessa, I understood how important your family is to you. I stole you the first time. This time, I wanted their blessing.”

His fingers tighten on the band of the ring.

“Your mother gave this to me. She knows that I love you. I love you more than money or power or my own life. I stole you, Nessa. And you stole my heart. It’s yours forever. I couldn’t take it back if I wanted to. So will you marry me?”

“Yes!” I cry. “Of course, yes!”

He slips the ring on my finger.

It looks different on my hand. It looks like it belongs to me. Like it was made for me.

“Did they really give it to you?” I ask him, in amazement.

“Grudgingly,” he says.

I laugh.

“That still counts,” I say.

He sweeps me up in his arms, kissing me over and over.

Then he does carry me up to his room.

There’s a fire blazing in the grate. He sets me down in front of it, on the thick rug.

“Let me undress you,” I say to Mikolaj.

He stands still, letting me unbutton the front of his shirt.

Inch by inch, I bare his broad, flat chest, hard with muscle and dark with ink. I run my fingertips over his chest, down the centerline of his navel. Mikolaj’s skin is incredibly smooth, for a man. It’s one of those deceptive things about him. How he looks and how he feels never match up. He looks as pale as a vampire, yet he’s always warm to the touch. He’s so lean that every muscle looks like it could cut you, but his skin is butter soft. His eyes look like shattered glass, but they’re not just a mirror, reflecting all the pain in the world. They see inside me, all the way down to my soul.

I strip off his shirt. I gently touch the scars on his stomach, shoulders, and arms. They’re mostly healed now, but the white ridges stand out against the dark tattoos. Every one of those marks is a cut he took for me.

I unbutton his pants and slide them down. His boxers, too. Now he’s standing naked in front of the fire. The light dances across his skin. It animates his tattoos, making them seem as if they’ve come alive, moving across his flesh.

His eyes are gleaming in the flickering light. They roam over my face, my body. He’s got that look of hunger on his face. The look that never fails to jolt my heart and make it beat at triple its normal pace. We’re not even kissing yet, and already my skin is prickling, my nipples tightening, wetness soaking through my underwear.

I can’t tear my eyes away from him. There’s never been a man who could look so commanding without a stitch of clothing on. There’s power in every ounce of those tensely coiled muscles. There’s ferocity in his gaze.

Mikolaj would do anything for me. And anything to me. He has no limit, no line he won’t cross. It’s terrifying and incredibly arousing.

His cock lays heavily against his thigh. As soon as my eyes fall on it, it starts to thicken and stiffen.

Like everything about Mikolaj, his cock is insanely aesthetic. Thick, white, smooth, perfectly proportioned. The harder it gets, the smoother and tighter the skin stretches. I know how soft that skin is—the softest on his entire body. I want to touch it with the most sensitive parts of myself. Starting with my lips and tongue.

I drop down to my knees in front of him. I let the head of his cock rest heavily on my tongue. I tease the tip of my tongue around the ridge between the head and shaft. A little drop of clear fluid forms on the tip of his cock, and I lick it up, tasting him. It tastes almost the same as his mouth—clean and rich and just a little salty.

I close my mouth over the whole head, sucking harder. More fluid seeps into my mouth, like a reward. Mikolaj groans.

I bob my mouth up and down on his cock, as far as I can go, coating it with my saliva. Then I use my hand to stroke his shaft while I lick and suck the head.

I’ve only done this a couple of times, but I already feel like I’m getting much better at it. I’m learning how to relax my jaw, how to use my mouth and hands in tandem. Mikolaj moans. I can tell what feels the best for him based off his breathing and the way he moves his hips.

After a minute he stops me.

“Don’t you like that?” I say.

“Of course I like it,” he growls.

He strips off my clothes so we’re both naked, then pulls me down on the rug in front of the fireplace. He pulls me on top of him so we’re facing opposite directions, my thighs wrapped around his face and his cock back in my mouth.

It’s a little more diffiMy Bookcult doing this upside down, but I think I can handle it. Until he delves his tongue inside of me at the same time.

Holy hell, that makes it hard to concentrate. While I’m sucking his cock, he’s penetrating me with his tongue, and rubbing my clit with his fingers. The angle is different than usual, and so is the sensation. There’s something incredibly satisfying about his mouth on me and my mouth on him at the same time. It makes the feeling of his cock against my tongue all the more pleasurable.

My heart is racing faster and faster. The time since we were last alone together is so long. I’m anxiously, painfully aroused. I touch myself in bed at night, thinking about him, but it’s not the same as the taste and smell and sensation of Mikolaj himself. Nothing can match that. Nothing can satisfy but him.

I’m rocking my hips, grinding my pussy against his tongue. It feels so good it must be illegal. I’m moaning around his cock, getting so distracted that I can’t do my part of the job anymore.

Mikolaj doesn’t care. He switches to penetrating me with his fingers, and licking my clit with his tongue. He puts one finger inside of me, then two. I’m moaning and riding on his face, the waves of pleasure rolling through me closer and closer until there’s no break in between, until it’s one long rush . . .

The orgasm ends, but I’m greedy for more. I can’t get enough of him. We’ve been apart too long.

I flip around and climb on top of him instead, his cock sliding snugly inside me. The warmth of the fire caresses my skin. It burns against my face, my bare breasts, my belly. I’m incredibly sensitive after that climax. Every stroke up and down on Mikolaj’s cock seems to awaken a hundred new receptors that I never knew existed.

Before I know it, I’m building up again. On my way to another orgasm, before the first one has properly ended. This time the sensation is deeper, concentrated inside of me instead of on my clit. The head of his cock is hitting that second pleasure center. Each stroke is like flint against steel, sending off sparks.

All at once the sparks catch, and there’s an inferno of pleasure, surging inside of me. I cry out like I really am on fire, a gasp that turns into a scream. My whole body tenses up. Then I collapse on top of Miko, limp and wrung out.

He flips me over so I’m down on all fours, and enters me from behind. I groan as he slides inside. His cock is too big—from this angle, it’s bottoming out, banging against my cervix.

I arch my back and that helps a little. He grabs my hips in his hands, sinking his fingers into my flesh. I feel how strong he is. How much energy he still hasn’t unleashed on me.

He’s not going to wait any longer. He starts fucking me hard, slamming into me over and over. It’s pleasure right on the edge of pain, but I like it. I love feeling how powerful he is. I love him taking control. I love how he takes what he needs out of me.

He’s grunting with every thrust, his voice deep and animalistic. The fire is so hot that we’re starting to sweat. I feel the droplets falling off his face and hair, down onto my back. He’s pounding into me harder and harder and I can’t get enough of it.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Keep going . . .”

There’s no way he was going to stop. His body slams against mine, his cock thrusting in as deep as it can go. Then he gives one last push, holding his cock in its deepest position, and he explodes inside of me. I feel the cum boiling out, without any space to fill. When he pulls his cock out, it pulls the cum out too, so it drips down my thighs.

I sink down on the rug, laying on my side, and Mikolaj lays behind me, spooning me. I fit perfectly in the hollow of his body. His arms lock around me, lean and strong.

“When should we get married?” I ask him.

“Immediately,” he says.

“Do you want to wait for summer?”

“No,” he growls. “I don’t want to wait another minute.”