tagNovels and NovellasTaking the Risk Ch. 20

Taking the Risk Ch. 20

byshandal©

The risk of asking may lead to the risk of refusal, but if you don't ask you don't get, and the pleasure you may have had would be lost for ever.

This is the love story between two normal people, with all the fears, doubts and worries that we all have, but each are growing with their love for each other, and taking risks are enriching their lives.

I hope you enjoy their story, and please feedback as I have put the suggestions and requests in the story from those that have emailed me, or sent feedback.


*

He sat on the side of the bed, watching as she stood wearing only her bra and pants in front of the wardrobe, choosing what to wear. Fascinated he watched as her shoulder blades moved as her arms raised up, moving the clothes, searching for what she wanted. The long indent of her spine led down to the cute dimple at the base of her back. A place he loved to kiss, knowing how sensitive she was there.

Getting up he stood behind her, hands curving around the flare of her hips, and told her, "Babe, don't worry, my mom is going to love you, just like I do. What ever you wear is going to be OK."

Turning around, she looked up at him, "I've got nothing to wear."

"That's what all women say!"

"That's because it's true."

Turning back she pulled out the dress she was wearing when he first met her that night on the blind date.

"Perfect babe. Now put it on and let's get going."

Pulling on the black dress, the slit neck showing off her lovely shoulders, she walked over to the mirror on her dressing table and scooped up her hair, high on her head and clipped it there, revealing her neck.

"Froo, I've been thinking.... I know your family is up here and that your course is not far.... and Jace will be starting school in September...... but....."

Turning round at the hesitant sound of his voice, so unusual for him, she looked at him standing by the bed, looking like a little boy about to confess to breaking a window with a ball, nervous and uncomfortable.

"What's wrong Mikhail? What have you been thinking about?"

Taking a deep breath, he moved forward and took her hand in his, heart beating fast at what he was about to say, and the possible rejection.

"We've been together now for five weeks, and we're practically living together, but between two homes. I'm here during the week and at the weekends we're at my place. Both of us keep leaving stuff at each others homes, and then needing them when they aren't at the right place."

Froo smiled at the memory of Misha searching for his missing suit on Monday morning, only to remember he had left it in Guildford over the weekend. He had let out a string of epithets, muttered under his breath, a look of frustration on his face. The smile deepened as she remembered that she hadn't felt frightened of him when he lost his temper, unlike when she had been living with Gary. Then he would have blamed her and hit her, but Misha just swore and muttered to himself, telling himself under his breath, that he was a fucking idiot, and pulled out an alternative to wear.

"Last week when Gary turned up without warning to see Jace worried me Froo, and I know you didn't let him in past the intercom downstairs, but he still doesn't respect this is your home, and that he has no right to come here."

Froo raised her chin, "I'm not scared anymore."

Misha smiled, "I know babe, but I am. I worry about you. I love you and all this going between the two homes is getting complicated for me, and exhausting."

A tight ball started to form in her tummy. Was this the big goodbye? Did he no longer want her? Suddenly it hit her, this wasn't goodbye. He was taking her down to meet his mother tonight for supper, and right now he stood in front of her, a blush along his cheeks, feet shuffling, as he looked down at her hand in his.

"Froo, would you move in with me down in Guildford? You could rent out your place, and you and Jace could come and live with me. It's far enough from your ex that he would think twice before coming down there, and it's close enough for you to get to your course. My apartment is bigger than yours, so we could fit your things in easily, what do you say?"

Froo stood quietly in front of him, a small frown on her face. Holding his breath while he waited for her to speak, Misha stood, frightened that she would say no, that he was rushing her, but he wanted her to say yes so badly he could taste it.

While he waited for her answer, Froo felt a little let down, realising she had been thinking he was going to propose. "Mikhail, it's a very big step, can I think on it?"

"Of course baby."

Gathering up her handbag and coat, they walked out of the apartment, Froo deep in thought. Should she take the risk, move in with Misha? How would it affect Jace, and what would her family say? Over the last month they had been together every night, Jace seemingly just accepting that Misha was there, and looking forward to playing with him each night before going to bed, and at weekends when he was with his father, Misha and herself had gone down to his Guildford, where he had seemed so much more comfortable, with all his belongings around him.

Tonight after eating at his mothers they were going to stay there at his apartment, having dropped Jace off earlier at his fathers, and she felt more and more at ease there now. Should she do it?

Sitting in the car as it moved through the rain, she ran through the pro's and con's of moving in with him, wavering between saying yes, and saying no. Just as they pulled up outside a well kept house in Weybridge, she asked him, "Mikhail, what if we gave it a trial run? I keep my place and not rent it out, but we move down to you, for say about a month, and just see if we can make it work. If it doesn't then nothing's lost, if it does, then we can sort everything out."

Misha picked up her hand and kissed it, relief flooding through him, "One month? It's a deal. We'll move as much as you want to move down to my place over this weekend. I'll give you the spare set of keys, and you can re arrange the apartment to however you want."

The two lovers smiled at each other, another step taken.

*

Misha's mother was so like him, tall and slim, with dark short hair, twinkling blue eyes and a joi d'vivre for life. Over a lovely meal of Chicken Paprika and wild rice, she told a number of hilarious stories about her winter cruise over the Christmas season, and the many people she had met, interspersed with escapades that Misha, Robin and John and the many cousins had gotten into in the past.

Misha sat squirming as his mother told Froo about the time he got stuck in the tree he had climbed up when eight years old, and playing cowboys and Indians with his cousins, and how it had taken three of his uncles to get him down, with a crowd of neighbours and their children as well as all his cousins watching and cheering.

Froo laughed, listening and picturing the younger Mikhail always getting into trouble, being the one that often ended up in scraps and having to be rescued. Finally the photo album came out, and she looked down at the many photos showing the big boisterous family, with Misha in the centre, looking happy and mischievous.

The evening was relaxed and saying goodbye, his mother looked at her and with a direct look told her, "Look after my son for me. I can see you make him happy, and next time bring down Jace for me to meet." Then looking up at Misha as he stood behind Froo, a big grin on his face, she scolded him "You behave yourself, and give me a call later on in the week. You leave it too long between phoning me. You're not so busy that you can't call or come over more often."

"Yes mom."

Smiling back at Froo she confided, "Men, they are just crap at stuff like that. Just like his father. Lost in their own little world."

*

Sitting up in bed, the covers pulled up over her breasts, Froo watched as Misha sat at the end of the bed, rifling through the post they had discovered when they arrived home at his place.

"I like your mother, she's very nice, and seems so much like you. Laid back and calm."

"You haven't seen her playing bridge, she completely changes then, like a Jekyll and Hyde, she shouts at her partner, and gets out of shape if she loses a hand."

"Do you play bridge?"

"Yeah, do you?"

"No. I play snap, does that count?"

Laughing Misha threw the letters on the floor and standing up, looked down at Froo, her bare shoulders poking up above the white duvet, her face smiling up at him, and started to unbutton his shirt.

"Nope, but I can think of a game we both can play, right here in the bed, right now. You game?"

"If you are Mikhail! I'm always game."

"You know Francesca, that's one of the things I really love about you. You never say no and you're always very game."

Dropping the duvet down below her breasts, she gave a beatific smile, just as Misha launched his body up onto the bed and pinned her back against the pillows, shirt ends flying, growling deep in his chest, a masculine sound of satisfaction and pleasure resonating through the bedroom as the two lovers lay upon the big king-sized bed, her sexy primal laugh answering him, sending shivers down his spine.

*

Later as he lay replete, her head nestled into the crook of his arm, he realised that how ever many times he had told her he loved her, she had never said it once to him. Never once over the past five weeks had she told him how she felt, not even during making love. She would tell him she thought him sexy, told him she found him good looking, kind, gentle supportive, but never that she loved him.

When they made love, she was now more un-inhibitive, often trying little things that would drive him wild, things like tonight when she had taken his balls into her mouth and he felt like he was on fire, or kneeling provocatively, her lovely derriere pointing up towards him, her plump breasts hanging down, two lovely globes for him to hold and squeeze as he rode her, her hips rocking back at him, in perfect rhythm, but never telling him that she loved him.

And that hurt. He wanted her to love him, just as he loved her.

The need inside him was growing, and like a drug addict he was scared she would one day leave, and he would be in pain, just like he was with Suzanne when she left him four years ago.

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by Anonymous09/27/13

Beautiful

This was a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing it with us.

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