Kotyonok Translation Novels & Stories

My hand hovered in the air, and after a beat I put it back on the tub, gripping the porcelain tightly. Lachlan’s thumbs caressed my cheeks, his green eyes liquid in his desire at my submission and trust. He whispered, “Fuck. My kotyonok. My beautiful little kitten. Bozhe. YA lyublyu tebya, kotyonok.” I stared at him, even though I didn’t understand a word of russian he said, my heart swelled and the feeling from earlier when I had been close to losing him surfaced, drowning me for him. The look in his eyes, the reverence, had me wanting to confess.

Camilla had questions for her. “What does kot mean?” “Kot?” Doris repeated. Camilla nodded fast. That was exactly how Alek pronounced it. “Cat. He call you cat?” “I’m not a cat,” Camilla grumbled. Doris grinned, and Camilla let out a breath. She couldn’t let the woman go on thinking this arrangement was romantic. “He didn’t say that. Tell me, how do I say, I hate you?” “Ya tebya lyublyu,” Doris said.

“Please—” He covered my mouth with a hand and pushed into me with one hard thrust that tore a cry of pain from my throat. It felt like a lance of fire, burning so intensely tears pooled in my eyes. I gripped his forearm for something to hold onto, my blunt nails digging through his shirtsleeve. Reflexively, my back arched in an effort to shove himout, but he was too heavy to remove. Ronan’s heart pounded against my chest, every inch of his body tense. “Kotyonok . . . yesli ya—” He clenched his teeth and tried again in English. “If I pull out, will I have blood on my cock?”

“I am certain you can understand me, kotik. Staying quiet will not make things easier for you. It will only rile me up. I demand an answer.” Kotik. I know that nickname anywhere. I have mingled with a lot of people as I travelled to different countries. One of the many times I visited Russia, I learned a few words and their meanings, and one of the few words I picked up was Kotik. It means ‘kitten’. Котик (Kotik)