finally let it out, my knees buckling as he pounds me like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.
“That’s it,” he pants, spanking me again. “Come on my cock. Make a mess.”
I don’t even venture to touch myself. I’m already far too hypersensitive, every new experience threatening to leave my head spinning. When Matvei gets close, he tugs my hair back harder and attacks my neck, kissing and nipping and sucking, panting in my ear until he finally finishes.
When he’s come down from his high, Matvei tucks himself back into his pants and closes his eyes, taking a breath. I collapse on my side and adjust my panties. Neither of us says a word, and I can’t even muster up an ounce of anger at him.
He’s taken it from me, and evidently, I’ve done the same because his face is now neutral, resting.
After I catch my breath, I stand up and begin walking to the kitchen. “You should apologize to him,” I say softly. “He was upset.”
Matvei freezes and looks at me. “You are not the one who makes the rules around here, Victoria.”
24
Victoria
Saturday mornings are my favorite of the week. There’s nothing better than sitting Nikolas down and giving him something to do while I do my chores and clean up while listening to music. This morning, I put Nikolas in front of the TV and put on one of his favorite shows, kissing the top of his head.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” I tell him. He’s too engrossed in the show to even respond. Laughing softly, I head in the kitchen and begin cooking breakfast for him.
When Matvei is around, I usually make Nikolas eat in the kitchen, but on the weekends, we do breakfast much more casually, eating in the living room and relaxing. Pancakes seem to be Nikolas’ favorite lately, so I heat up the skillet and quickly whip up a large batch of batter, spooning them out into perfect circles and flipping them with skill.
I could make these all day. As I cook, my mind wanders back to Matvei, and I’m grateful that he won’t be joining us for breakfast. I don’t know if I could sit across the table from him and eat without thinking about what he said and losing my appetite.
It’s not the first time a man has taken his anger and insecurities out on me. When I was younger and Dad’s drinking was worse, he’d constantly come home stumbling and curse me out for something that wasn’t even my fault. He screamed, broke things, and passed out face-down on the sofa. In the morning, he’d have no memory of what he said or did, and I’d always forgive him, helping him clean up the mess he made the night before.
But maybe it’s time I stop making excuses for men who throw temper tantrums. Matvei may be powerful and deadly, but I’m not just going to let him yell at me and treat me like dirt because his feelings got hurt. It felt more personal than me forgetting to do the dishes or turn off the stove.
I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.
I thought we were getting better. I thought we were making progress in this situation. Sure, I knew we couldn’t be a thing because of how violent he is and how against relationships he seems to be, but I’d been under the assumption that things were becoming less hostile. That doesn’t seem to be the case at all.
I should quit right now and walk away from this. I should tell Dad that he can solve his own problems the same way he created them, and I should tell Matvei that he’s never going to find a woman to settle down with because he’ll always respond in anger and scare them away. I could pack up and leave all of this behind. It wouldn’t be hard.
But that little boy sitting in the living room is the one thing I can’t run from.
He’s been through so much pain and loss since his parents died, and if I left, I’d just be another person who abandoned him. It would crush him and break his heart all over again. I don’t want to do anything like that to him, which is why I refuse to run away. Even with Matvei yelling it in my face, I refused.
This is where I belong, even if every second makes me doubt that very idea.
When breakfast is ready, I carry two