Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Twenty-two: Aleksander Morozova

Twenty-two:

Aleksander Morozova

"I'm headed home," Zoya told him, popping her head into his office, "and I'm asking you for the millionth time, please don't make me go to your wedding.

Aleksander smirked. "I'm afraid I cannot. The King is the one who made up the guest list, and if you aren't there, he'll notice. You don't want to be on his bad side, do you?"

"He's a giant oaf," said Zoya.

"Who is the reason we have power," Aleksander reminded her.

"Fine. I'm coming. But I am drinking all of your wine at the reception."

"Have at it," he said, "last chance Miss Nazyalensky if you want to make your move."

She laughed. "Eat glass, Morozova."

He smiled. "Always a pleasure, Zoya. Have a good night."

She smiled and left. When she was gone, he stood up to leave. The drive home was long. It used to be one of his favorite times of the day because it meant that he got time to himself after a long day. Now, it was his favorite time because it meant that he was going home to Alina. The week had been long, and perhaps they weren't desperately in love, but she didn't flinch every time that he came into a room anymore.

The car pulled to a stop, the driver opened the door for him, and he walked out to the house. To his surprise, the door opened before he could get to it and Alina was standing there. "Your home!" she said.

He raised an eyebrow. They had at the very least, moved past her plotting his murder stage. However, he hadn't expected her to open the door and greet him like a loving wife who cared for at least two years. Or even, possibly, which meant her reaction had him taken aback. "Yes, I am."

"Come on!" she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the house.

"Alina," he said, "what's going on?"

She smiled up at him. "I cooked dinner. Well, Baghra helped me cook dinner. I tried, and then the chef nearly kicked me out when I made the smoke alarm go off. Baghra gave him the evening off and helped me make something for you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to poison me now?"

She laughed. "Not intentionally."

"I suppose that's good to know," he said, "can I ask, what brought on this sudden urge of domesticity?"

She smiled. "Um....I...well...."

She rummaged through her pockets and fumbled as she pulled out her phone. On the screen was a picture of him, the night they'd gone to dinner, carrying her bridal style from the restaurant. He found himself blushing. Aleksander couldn't remember the last time that he had done that. He didn't think he was capable anymore.

"Oh, that," he said.

"I know we're not going to be in the contest for most romantic engagement or love story or anything like that, but despite what everyone thinks of you, I think that...maybe there's a chance that we could make this work for both of us. And if you're open to it, I would like that very much."

She stood on tiptoes and pressed her forehead against his. "Careful, Miss Starkov," he said, "don't start something that you can't stop."

She smiled. "Maybe I don't want to stop."

He smirked. "I do like where your head is at, but my stomach is growling, and I didn't get lunch today...."

Alina nodded. "That's alright. We've got all evening."

He laughed. "Tomorrow, Miss Starkov, I will happily seduce you. But not until you are a married woman. Not until you are Lady Morozova."

She smiled, but he noticed her looking at his lips. "Well...aren't there things we could do then to keep us...occupied?"

He grinned. "Oh, there are plenty of things for us to keep us occupied until then."

Alina raised an eyebrow. "Exactly how hungry are you?"

"Ravenous," he growled, "but suddenly, I am not hungry for food. I am, however, ravenous for a taste of you. Can I kiss you, Miss Starkov?"

She blushed. "You can kiss me anywhere, Lord Morozovoa."

He smiled. "I will happily take you up on that offer, Alina. In fact, I can think of quite---" he kissed her on her neck, "a few—" he kissed her on her collar bone "---places that I would like to kiss you." He kissed her on her wrist.

Alina shivered. "And where exactly are those places?"

"Probably none that should be performed in the entryway of our home. At least for the decency of the servants."

"Then shall we----" he picked her up, carrying in her in his arms, up the stairs to their room. Alina giggled the entire way as he kissed her neck, and then he kicked open the door to her room and placed her gently on the bed.

"I'm going to eat," he said, "and I am going to eat well tonight enjoying what I'm sure will become my favorite meal. You."

She turned a brilliant shade of red, and he lifted her shirt up so that he could kiss her stomach. Alina shivered at his touch. "Oh."

He chuckled wryly. "Well, if something as simple as a kiss on your stomach gets an oh just wait until I have what's in between your legs for dessert."

Alina laughed nervously, and he unbuttoned her pants, pulling them off her. "And now, dessert before dinner." He grinned, and he pulled down her panties.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"You'll see," he said.

Then his head was in between her legs, his tongue licking her center, and Alina let out a whimper as she used gripped his shoulders to keep herself steady. He lifted her legs and put them around his shoulders. "Oh Miss Starkov," he said pulling his head out between the center of her thighs, "I am going to have my fill of you."

He stuck his finger inside of her and stroked her. Alina's hips arched, just as he could feel her getting wet for him. "You are so ready for me, it's a shame we're not already married," he said, "but oh the things I will do to you on our honeymoon, Miss Starkov."

"Tomorrow, Lady Morozova."

He grinned, "Yes, tomorrow, Lady Morozova."