36. April

36

APRIL

Time starts flying. And I mean, like, flying. Hurtling towards the horizon at rocket speed, with a big, fat cloud in its wake.

Me? I'm just trying not to get left behind in the dust.

"How about we increase the percentage of Kevlar nanofibers?" Dr. Reznikov asks.

Professor Simmons frowns. "That's going to be tricky. Too much and the clothes won't be flexible enough for movement."

"Flexibility is a must," I stress. "We need to walk the line between ‘suit' and ‘suit of armor.' Try a wool mix—that should even it out. We'll figure out the spring/summer line later."

"On it," Professor Simmons says.

"I'll run the numbers." Dr. Reznikov grins. "Be on your desk by three, boss."

It takes me a full five minutes to realize he means me. I'm the boss.

Which leads to an awkward conversation with my old boss. "It just happened so fast," I mumble to Elias, filled with guilt.

Over the phone, he laughs. "Child, please. All I ever wanted was for you to get your big break. You think I'm gonna go sour on you now that it's finally happening?"

"It's just one project," I counter. "It might not lead anywhere. We're on a three-month timeline for a functioning prototype, so maybe afterwards…"

I could come back. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back. After all, can I even make that promise? Can I swear that I'll be back at Third Chance, that everything will go back to the way it used to be?

Part of me wants to. It's the part that spent so many years between those shelves—happy years, sad years. The part that knows nothing else.

But things change. And so much has changed already—me most of all.

"Then afterwards , we'll talk," Elias reassures me, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. What's holding me back from committing, one way or the other. "Now, I want you to do one thing and one thing only."

"Of course," I murmur. "Anything."

"Use up the rest of your maternity leave."

"Elias, I can't!" I protest. "This project's well-paid. I can't possibly keep collecting a paycheck when you still need to hire?—"

"You can and you will." Elias's voice is amused, but inflexible. "Besides, I've already hired a temp. You can't change my mind, missy."

"But…!"

"No buts. All complaints can be sent to HR."

" You're HR!"

"Then your complaint has been received. Now, go change the world."

I roll my eyes fondly. "I'm just making clothes."

"‘I'm just a tailor.' Do you know who said that?"

"I have a feeling you're about to tell me."

I hear laughter on the other end. "Gianni Versace. Goodnight, my dear."

I stay on the phone long after the call has disconnected. Goodnight. That word lingers in my head: Goodnight. It's just like Elias to pick a parting as kind as that.

One that isn't a goodbye.

So I throw myself back into my work. I pour my blood, sweat, and tears into it. I get to the factory earlier than anyone and stay later than everyone. Often, that means bringing along May and her four newly-appointed bodyguards. None of them holds a candle to Buttons, but then again, not everyone can be a perfect protector and a perfect pillow.

And just like that, the weeks fly by.

Another thing that's been skyrocketing: my sex life.

"Look at you," Matvey rasps into my ear. He's above me, behind me, inside me. Everywhere, all at once. "So wet for me."

I whine helplessly into the pillow. I'm stuffed to the brim, Matvey's fingers spelling ruin inside me, his free hand locking both of mine into place at the small of my back. "Please," I beg.

"You want my cock that much?"

"I want it," I moan. "Please, Matvey, please? — "

He yanks his fingers out of me. I want to cry at the absence—it's so empty now—when I feel them again at my lips. He pushes them rudely in, stuffing me full on that end, too, stifling my moans better than any pillow could.

I can still taste myself on him. " Blyat '," he groans. "Such a dirty little vixen."

Then he slides inside me.

No, "slides" isn't the right word—it's too gentle. What Matvey's doing to me is nothing less than savage. His cock pushes roughly between the swollen lips of my pussy, and it's all I can do to bite down on the fingers in my mouth to keep quiet.

God help me—I love it.

When I was pregnant, we never got to do anything like this. We were too busy being careful, sticking to positions that wouldn't turn our Nugget into a Pancake.

But after we unlocked hate sex, the possibilities became endless.

There's no hate in it now, not anymore, but the rough edges remain. It's my fault, really: I was never that good at hiding what I like. With my previous boyfriends, it wasn't an issue—and how could it be? As if their fantasies ever extended beyond the mechanical principle of "Tab A inserts into Slot B."

But Matvey's observant. When he saw how wet being manhandled made me, he took notice.

And call me delusional, but I get the feeling I'm not the only one to be… affected.

At least judging by how hard he's throbbing inside me.

"God, don't stop," I pant, freeing his fingers from my teeth.

I immediately feel them in my hair. "Stop calling out for God. He's not here."

"Matvey…!" I keen, delicious pain shooting down my spine from my scalp. His fist goes tight, tight, tighter, pulling my curls in a vise grip I could never hope to escape from. I'm trapped, pinned, hopeless—and it feels so good I could cry. "Don't stop, don't sto— Ahh !"

His thrusts are ruthless. He fucks me like I'm a thing, a toy. Something that's purely his to ruin whenever he feels like it. Crap, should I be bringing this up in therapy?

"Shameless kalina ," Matvey growls against the back of my neck, sending tingles all the way down. "Tell me what else you want me to do to you."

"Touch me," I beg. My clit is ready to burst, throbbing neglected between my legs. "Please, need you to touch me, please?—"

But Matvey tuts, disappointed. "My cock not enough for you?"

I shake my head frantically. That's not it , I want to say. I just need you everywhere.

But the second I open my mouth to speak, his fingers dive back into it, smothering all sound. "Filthy little thing. Now, I'm wondering if you deserve to come at all."

His thrusts slow to a punishing halt. I feel tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, the thought of stopping unbearable. Worse—the thought of Matvey painting my insides white without letting me come even once. I mumble incoherently around his fingers, but he refuses to pull them out.

So I use my hips. I start rolling them slowly, pleadingly. Matvey sucks in a harsh breath, and I take it as a sign.

I pick up the pace, all but fucking myself on his throbbing cock. He's so hard, he could easily hurt me. So big, I still can't believe he fits in me. Every time I move, pleasure sparks everywhere inside me, the hot drag of him almost too much to bear.

If I came like this, he'd never forgive me.

I'll be good , I desperately want to promise. I'll be good, so please…

Suddenly, his fingers slip out of my mouth. I feel his big, strong hands seize my hips, forcing them to still. "Fuck, kalina. Trying to cheat your way out of punishment?"

"N-No!" I gasp. "Never, I?—"

THWACK!

I jolt.

Did he just… spank me?

Heat spreads into the rest of my body from the point of impact. My ass tingles, the imprint of Matvey's hand pulsing red and hungry on my cheek. "Don't lie to me."

File under: kinks I didn't know I had. "Matvey, please."

"I'm tempted to do it, you know," he whispers, sandpaper-rough. "Fuck you raw. Put another baby in your belly."

My vision swims. "Matvey…"

"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he groans between shallow thrusts. "Being stuffed full of my cum?"

"Yes," I moan, too far gone for lies.

"Over and over again. Until you can't take it anymore."

"Give it to me," I gasp. "Fill me up with your babies, fuck me, breed me ? — "

Whatever embarrassing thing I was going to say next, Matvey doesn't let me. " Blyat' ," he curses between his teeth, and then he's all over me: hands on my hips, mouth on my neck, cock sinking into my sweet spot with every thrust.

I want to touch myself so badly it hurts, but he doesn't let me. The second he sees my hand move, he pins it to the mattress without mercy, five calloused fingers splaying in the gaps left by mine. "You either come on my cock or not at all," he growls.

"Matvey…!"

"Come now, kalina. Let me feel it."

I can't say no.

In the end, I can never say no to him.

Afterwards, I bury my face in his chest. "You're the worst," I sigh.

Matvey's fingers come up to stroke my hair. "Am I now?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure that violated the Geneva Convention."

The hint of a smirk. "My mistake. I'll be more boring next time."

"S'okay. I can take it."

He presses a kiss on top of my head. "I know."

It's almost better than the sex—this part right after. Just lying here, spent and boneless, and listening to each other breathe. "Mm."

"How's the project coming along?"

"Good," I mumble. "Like, really good. We tested some nanofibers today."

"Anyone I need to fire?"

I smother my laughter in the crook of Matvey's neck. "No, thank you. We need all the hands we can get. By the way, how's your work going?"

He sighs. "It's not. This mole situation is keeping the plan from moving forward."

Lately, Matvey's been way more forthcoming with me—to the point where he can throw around code words like "the plan" and I'll actually know what he's talking about. Dr. Knox would be pleased as punch.

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely. "I wish I could help."

"Oh, believe me, you're helping."

I smack him lightly on the arm. "Not like that . And stop pinching my ass."

"Why? Still too raw?"

This man will be the death of me. "Quit changing the subject."

"But I like this subject more."

"Matvey."

He rolls his eyes, but there's fondness there, too. "I'm serious. You are helping. Your suits will make all the difference in the battles to come."

Battles. I don't like the sound of that, but I know better than to try and dissuade Matvey from his goals. From day one, he's been supportive of mine—it's only fair I return the favor. Even if it's terrifying to think about.

That's why you have to do your best at work: to protect him. It's the only way he'll let you. "But you still can't move forward."

"No," he exhales. "Not until we find the mole. Which is… problematic."

"Why?"

"The vory . They're getting restless again. They want the plan."

"And because of the mole, you can't give it to them."

He nods. "Precisely."

I feel my eyelids growing heavy. I can't help it—Matvey's stamina is impossible to keep up with. I barely know what I'm saying when I slur, half-asleep already, "So give them one."

"What?"

"A plan. Just not… the plan…"

Matvey doesn't say anything. I force myself to blink one eye open. When I do, I see his expression looks stuck in place, frozen. Like he's had an epiphany or something.

I try to ask, but sleep pulls me under.

Oh, well. We'll talk more in the morning.