And he has been going down on me every single night since then, sometimes in the morning before class, and one time in his office when I stopped by with food. He’s absolutely obsessed.
Right now, he’s two fingers deep inside me, curling them just right while his tongue works me over. I’m so close I can barely breathe.
“Alexei—”
“I know.” His voice is rough. “I can feel it. You’re so fucking tight, solnyshko.”
I whimper, my hips rolling against his mouth. He groans, his hand moving faster on himself. He’s close too. I can tell by the way his breathing hitches, the way his fingers dig into my thigh.
Just a little more—
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
I jolt upright so quickly I nearly nail Alexei in the face with my knee.
He freezes mid-stroke, and when his eyes lock on mine I see nothing but rage.
“Mommy!” Yuri’s voice gets louder, practically right outside the door now. “You forgot! My playdate with Misha starts soon and Auntie Anya is coming to pick me up, so we need to get ready!”
Fuck.
I scramble off the bed, grabbing my robe from the chair and tying it as fast as my shaking hands will allow. Alexei sits back on his heels, hard and pissed off, dropping his hand away from himself like someone just walked in on him.
“One second, baby!” I call out, my voice too high.
The door swings open.
Yuri stands there in his dinosaur pajamas, brown curls sticking up in every direction. His hazel eyes—too much like his father’s—fix on me with concern.
“Mommy, what happened?” He steps closer, tilting his head. “Are you okay? You’re sweating.”
I pull the robe tighter around myself. “Yes, baby. I’m fine. Can you give me a moment?”
“But what happened?” He frowns, studying me. “Are you okay? You’re sweating pretty badly.”
“It’s just really hot in here.”
“Mommy, it’s not really hot.” He walks over to the window, pressing his hand against the glass. “It’s cold. Why are you sweating?”
This kid.
I love him. I love him so much it hurts. But right now I want to ship him off to his grandparents for a week.
He’s far too smart and far too curious, turning every answer into another question and never letting anything go without understanding it completely.
I crouch down and pull him into my arms, kissing the top of his head. “You’re always so smart, aren’t you?”
He beams. “The teacher says I ask the best questions.”
“I’m sure she does.” I smooth his hair down. “Why don’t you go find Thea and tell her to get your clothes ready for your playdate? Tell her you need to look very handsome for Misha.”
His face lights up. “Okay!” He turns to run, then pauses, glancing over at Alexei. “Papa looks weird.”
I look back at Alexei who’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his forearms resting on his knees, staring at our son like he’s running through every possible method of making a child vanish.
“Your papa is fine,” I say quickly. “Go on.”
Yuri runs off, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.