Chapter 17: Shared Secret
The silence after Roman and Max left for New York was a physical thing, a thick blanket of quiet draped over the sunlit penthouse. Vanja floated through the days in a haze of nausea and profound fatigue. Masha was a whirlwind of efficient care, a constant, chattering presence that Vanja found she relied upon more than she’d ever admit.
It was the afternoons that were hardest. The men had been gone for four days. The initial peace had curdled into a restless, lonely energy. Vanja’s body was changing, subtly but irrevocably. Her breasts were fuller, more sensitive, the skin stretched taut and tingling. A slight, firm curve had begun to harden below her navel.
Lying on her side in the vast bed, golden light pooling on the cream linens, she couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed the ultrasound image: two tiny, ghostly beans, two flickering hearts. Them. Their children. A shiver that wasn’t unpleasant ran through her. Her own hands moved almost of their own volition, sliding under the soft cotton of her oversized t-shirt—one of Max’s, it smelled faintly of his cologne. Her palms cupped the heavy swell of her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, hardened and sensitive. A sharp intake of breath hissed between her teeth.
She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back into the pillow. One hand drifted down, splaying over the new, subtle roundness of her lower belly. She imagined them there, sleeping, growing. A fierce, possessive warmth flooded her. Mine. The thought was a quiet rebellion in the heart of the Abramovic empire. Her fingers traced idle circles on her skin, lower, dipping beneath the waistband of her soft leggings. She was wet almost immediately, a slick, aching heat that had become more persistent with the pregnancy. Her touch was slow, exploratory, a rediscovery of a body that was no longer solely her own.
The door clicked open.
Vanja’s eyes flew open. Masha stood in the doorway, a glass of water in one hand, her expression shifting from casual inquiry to frozen surprise.
Masha can’t stop looking.
And, she realized with a slow, sinking certainty, she wouldn’t have it any other way. The thought was a warm, dark tide that pulled her under into a deep and dreamless sleep.
She woke hours later to the soft click of a lamp. The penthouse was shrouded in the deep blue of late evening, the Thames a ribbon of black satin strung with lights beyond the glass. Masha was curled in a nearby armchair, her blonde hair a pale cloud in the gloom, watching her.
“You snore,” Masha said, her voice a soft scratch in the quiet. “A little whistle on the inhale.”
Vanja rubbed her eyes, groggy. “I’m building humans. I’m allowed to snore.”
“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.” Masha uncoiled herself and padded over to the sofa. She perched on the edge, her blue eyes intent. “They’ve sapped all your color. You look like a ghost.”
“I feel like one.”
“Maybe you need a different kind of rest.” Masha’s fingertips, cool and light, brushed a strand of hair from Vanja’s forehead. The touch lingered, tracing the line of her cheekbone. It was not a sisterly gesture. The air in the room thickened, charged with a sudden, silent understanding.
Vanja’s breath hitched. “Masha…”
“Shhh.” Masha’s thumb swept over Vanja’s bottom lip. “Just quiet. Just feeling. You’re so full of them.” Her voice was a whisper. “Let someone focus only on you.”
Then Masha’s mouth was on hers, not hesitant but deep and knowing, a kiss that tasted of mint and expensive wine. Vanja moaned into it, her hands coming up to clutch at Masha’s silk blouse. The exhaustion was still there, but it transformed, became a heavy languor that begged for touch. Masha’s lips moved to her throat, her jaw, her earlobe, where her tongue traced a devastating pattern.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Masha murmured, her hands slipping under Vanja’s sweater. “All soft and ripe.” Her palms were cool as they cupped Vanja’s breasts, her thumbs circling the nipples through the lace of her bra until they hardened into aching points. Vanja arched off the sofa cushions, a whimper escaping her. It had been weeks of a different kind of attention, brutal and consuming. This was slow.This was for her.
Masha pushed the sweater up and Vanja raised her arms, letting her take it off.The bra followed. Masha looked at her, her gaze hot and appreciative. “Perfect,” she breathed, before lowering her head and taking one nipple into her mouth. Her tongue was clever, flicking and sucking until Vanja was writhing, her fingers tangled in Masha’s hair.
Masha’s hand slid down Vanja’s belly, over the band of her leggings, and pressed firmly against the heat between her legs. Vanja cried out, pushing into the touch. “Please.”
“I’ve got you,” Masha soothed, hooking her fingers in the fabric and pulling everything down. The cool air kissed Vanja’s skin, followed by the warmer rush of Masha’s breath as she moved down her body. Masha settled between her thighs, her blonde hair a curtain brushing Vanja’s sensitive skin.
She didn’t go straight for her clit. She kissed the inside of Vanja’s thigh, a soft, open-mouthed press that made her jump. She licked a slow, torturous path upward. When her tongue finally made contact, it was a flat, broad stroke through Vanja’s slick folds that made her entire body jolt.
“Oh, god,” Vanja gasped, her head falling back.
Masha ate her with a luxurious, focused hunger. Her tongue was everywhere—dipping inside her, fluttering against her entrance, then circling her clit with slow, maddening precision. She used her lips, her chin, the tip of her nose, exploring every fold and dip as if mapping sacred geography. Vanja’s hips rose off the couch in a desperate, unsteady rhythm, her heels digging into the cushions. The pleasure was a deep, coiling build, utterly different from the sharp, commanded peaks she was used to. This was a wave gathering far out at sea, massive and inevitable.
“Masha, I’m… I’m going to…”
Masha just hummed against her, the vibration sparking white fire up her spine. She pushed two fingers inside Vanja, curling them, finding a spot that made Vanja see stars. Her tongue never stopped its relentless, worshipful circles.
The climax didn’t crash; it unfolded. It started in her core and radiated outward in warm, pulsing waves, a slow-motion detonation of light behind her eyelids. She sobbed, her body bowing off the sofa, her hands fisted in Masha’s hair as she rode the endless, gentle undulations of her tongue. Wetness spread beneath her, a warm gush that Masha drank from with a soft, satisfied sound.
When Vanja finally collapsed, boneless and trembling, Masha crawled back up her body, her mouth glistening. She kissed Vanja deeply, letting her taste herself. “See?” Masha whispered, her own breath coming fast. “Just for you.”
But the tenderness shifted as Masha’s hunger ignited. Her hands, which had been so gentle, grew demanding. She pinched Vanja’s nipples hard, making her gasp. “My turn,” Masha growled, her voice rough. She guided Vanja’s hand between her own legs, pressing it against the soaked silk of her panties. “Feel what you do to me. Now get these off and fix it.”
Vanja, still hazy, obeyed, pushing the silk down Masha’s thighs. Masha was blond there too, a neat, pale triangle. Her pussy was pink and glistening, perfectly exposed. Vanja dipped her head, but Masha pulled her hair, stopping her.
“Not like that.” Masha’s eyes were dark, her earlier softness burned away by a fierce need. She straddled Vanja’s face, lowering herself onto her mouth. “Eat me out like you’re starving for it. Make me come so hard I scream. I want to grind my cunt all over your pretty face.”
The dirty talk was a sudden, electrifying shock. Vanja’s tongue lashed out, diving into Masha’s wet heat. She licked and sucked, driven by Masha’s filthy commands. Masha rocked above her, her motions growing frantic, her fingers clawing at the sofa back.
“Yes, right there, you bitch, just like that,” Masha chanted, her voice rising. “Lick my fucking clit. Suck it. Harder.” She was a frenzy above her, her scent and taste overwhelming Vanja’s senses. “I’m gonna squirt all over you. You’re gonna drink every drop. You’re my fucking whore.”
The words spurred Vanja on. She focused all her energy, her tongue a relentless point of pressure. Masha’s thighs clamped around her head, a tremor rocking her entire body. Then she came with a raw, shouting curse, a hot flood of liquid gushing over Vanja’s chin, her tongue, her neck. Vanja swallowed, choked, and kept licking through the pulsing contractions until Masha slumped forward, spent.
They lay tangled in the damp, salty silence for a long moment, breathing each other’s air.
The quiet was a living thing in the penthouse after the door shut behind Roman and Max. Vanja stood in the center of the vast living area, feeling the echo of their absence in her bones. Masha watched her from the sofa, her shrewd eyes missing nothing.
“You look like you’re waiting for the sky to fall,” Masha said, her voice softer than usual.
Vanja let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “I feel… untethered.”
“Good.” Masha uncurled herself and walked over, taking Vanja’s hands. They were cold. “Come on. You’re going to lie down. Doctor’s orders are for rest, but my orders are for you to actually feel good for a change.”
She led Vanja to the bedroom, not the clinical one from the clinic, but the master suite that still smelled of them—cedar, clean linen, and a faint trace of sex. She pushed Vanja gently onto the edge of the mattress and knelt, removing her shoes. Her touch was methodical, firm. “They fuck the tension into you, those two,” Masha said casually, working a thumb into Vanja’s arch. “And then they leave, and all the tension has nowhere to go. It just sits there, rotting. We can’t have that. Not for the mother of my nieces.”
“Nephews,” Vanja muttered, lying back.
“Please,” Masha scoffed, crawling onto the bed beside her. “With your hips?Girls. Trust me.” She propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at Vanja. Her expression was uncharacteristically serious. “You’re carrying their entire fucking legacy in here. That’s heavy. You need to be able to put it down sometimes.”
Her hand settled on Vanja’s stomach, over the soft cashmere of her sweater. The touch was possessive, but not in the way Roman’s or Max’s was. This was a claiming of a different sort. Sisterhood.Understanding.
“How?” Vanja whispered, the word barely audible.
Masha’s smile returned, a wicked, knowing curve of her lips. “By remembering this body is still yours. That it can feel things just for you.” Her hand slid down, palming Vanja through her leggings. “See?Still here. Still responsive.”
Vanja gasped, her hips arching off the mattress involuntarily. Masha’s touch was confident, applying just the right pressure. “Masha…”
“Shhh.Just feel. I’m not them. This isn’t about ownership.” She leaned down, her breath warm against Vanja’s ear. “This is about pleasure. Pure, simple, fucking filthy pleasure.” She hooked her fingers into the waistband of Vanja’s leggings and underwear, peeling them down in one smooth motion. The cool air hit Vanja’s skin, followed by the scorching heat of Masha’s gaze.“Look at you. Soaked already. Your body knows what it needs.”
Masha settled between her thighs, her eyes locked on Vanja’s. “Tell me what you want.”
Vanja could only shake her head, overwhelmed.Words were gone.
“Fine. I’ll tell you.” Masha’s voice dropped to a husky murmur. “You want my mouth on this pretty, puffy cunt. You want my fingers inside you, stretching you open, making a space that’s just for this. For feeling so full you scream.” She lowered her head, not kissing, just breathing her in. “You want to come so hard you see stars, and then you want to do it again.Because you can. Because it’s yours.”
Then her tongue was there, a broad, flat stroke that made Vanja cry out. It was different—softer, more exploring than demanding. Masha licked into her, savoring her, humming with appreciation. Vanja’s hands flew to Masha’s hair, not to guide, just to hold on.
“That’s it,” Masha muttered against her, her words vibrating through Vanja’s core. “Let go. For you.”
The orgasm built slowly, a rising tide rather than a sudden crash. Masha worked her with lips, tongue, and the gentle pressure of her fingers stroking Vanja’s inner thighs. When it broke, it was a deep, rolling wave that left Vanja trembling, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
Masha kissed her way up Vanja’s body, tasting her own scent on her lips.“Good. One.” She settled beside her, her hand trailing back down Vanja’s stomach. “But we’re just getting started.”
Her fingers, slick with Vanja’s arousal, circled her entrance. One slid in, easily, to the knuckle. Vanja moaned, her body still pulsing from the first climax. A second finger joined the first, crooking inside her, finding a spot that made her back arch off the bed.
“You’re so tight for them,” Masha whispered, her eyes dark with intensity. “So perfect and clenched. But I want you loose. I want you open and dripping and so fucking satisfied you forget your own name.” She scissored her fingers gently, stretching the muscles. Vanja panted, a steady stream of please, please falling from her lips.
“I know what you need,” Masha said. She added a third finger. The stretch was exquisite, a burning fullness that tipped into pure pleasure. Vanja’s cries grew louder, echoing in the vaulted room. Masha fucked her with her hand, a steady, penetrating rhythm, her palm grinding against Vanja’s clit with every thrust.
“You’re going to squirt for me,” Masha commanded, her voice guttural. “You’re going to let go all that tension, all that fear, and you’re going to fucking drown this bed. Do you understand me? Let it go.”
Vanja was mindless, hovering on a terrifying, glorious edge. The pressure was immense, building in her core, different from anything before. Masha curled her fingers, relentless.
“Now.”
The release wasn’t a pulse; it was a flood. A hot, gushing rush of fluid surged out of her as her body convulsed, her vision whiting out completely. She screamed, a raw, shattered sound, as the waves of her climax seemed to pull her apart. Masha kept her hand there, working her through it, milking every last spasm until Vanja collapsed, boneless and gasping.
Masha withdrew her glistening hand, bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking them clean, her eyes on Vanja’s. “Perfect. Two.”
But she wasn’t done. She shifted, her body aligning with Vanja’s again. Her gaze was fierce, possessive. “One more. The best one.” She kissed Vanja, deep and slow, letting her taste herself. “This one is from me. My welcome to the family. My claim on you, too.”
Her hand slid back down, fingers slick once more. She pressed against Vanja’s sensitive entrance, not with fingers this time, but with her whole hand, her knuckles. The pressure was immense, impossible.
“Relax,” Masha soothed, kissing her jaw, her throat.“Take it. You can. This beautiful, fertile cunt can take anything.”
Vanja felt the stretch beyond reason, a profound, burning fullness as Masha’s hand slowly, inexorably, pushed inside her. It wasn’t violent; it was deliberate, a conquest of inches. Vanja’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, her body trembling, accepting, her own wetness easing the way.
“Fuck, look at you,” Masha breathed, her own face flushed with awe and desire. “Taking my whole fist. My brother’s wife. The mother of our children. So greedy for it.” She began to move her hand, a slow, internal massage that touched depths Vanja never knew existed. The sensation was overwhelming, a total possession that sparked another climax, this one deep and internal, a series of clenched, pulsing ripples around Masha’s wrist.
Vanja sobbed, her body seizing, fluids leaking around the incredible intrusion. Masha lowered her head, capturing a nipple through the thin sweater with her mouth, suckling hard as she fucked Vanja with her fist, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room.
“Come all over me,” Masha growled. “Soak my hand. Claim me back.”
The command tipped her over another edge, a shocking, electric burst of pleasure that seemed to originate from her very core. She gushed again, a hot cascade that soaked the sheets beneath them, her body spasming uncontrollably against Masha’s anchored arm.
Slowly, gently, Masha withdrew. Vanja felt hollowed out, utterly spent, trembling with aftershocks. Masha gathered her close, wiping her brow with a tender touch that contrasted violently with what she’d just done.
“There,” Masha whispered, holding her as the tremors subsided. “Now you’re here. Now you’re yours again.”
She kissed Vanja then, softly, on the lips. It was not a kiss of passion, but of sealing. A promise.An understanding. Vanja melted into it, into the strange, shocking safety of this woman’s arms, floating in a haze of endorphins and profound, unprecedented release. The world outside, the men, the future—it all faded into a distant hum. For now, there was only this: the salt on her skin, the damp sheets, and the quiet, unwavering gaze of the woman who had just remade her.