Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I unsettle the rigid-as-a-stone, emotionless-man-of-few-words Vaughn.
Fuck me, I’m already getting high.
“Yo.” I wave, one finger at a time, then remove my mask, letting it hang in my hand. “Got to say, my heart skipped a beat when I received that invitation, and I’ve been wondering if maybe, possibly you were the one who sent it—”
My words come to a choked halt when he runs toward me, throws his chain around my neck, and slams me against a tree. The mask slips from my hand and clatters against the ground, cold metal biting into my skin as Vaughn pulls the chain taut between his fists.
I’m a couple of inches taller than him, but the way he stares me down through the two holes in his mask is fucking intoxicating.
It’s not the staring down per se, it’s how his chest nearly grazes mine, how his loud breaths sound unhinged against his mask in the near silence.
“Love it when you get rough, Mishka.” I grin, winking.
Apparently, that was a very bad idea, because he growls. Literally. The sound vibrates against my chest and goes straight to my dick.
Obviously.
I don’t get to marvel at the stupidity of said sexual organ being turned on by the one guy I shouldn’t go near, because Vaughn pulls me from the tree, then shoves me to the ground. He expertly maneuvers and elongates the chain so that he still has me in a chokehold.
The fall hurts, but not as much as my erection. Go figure.
Dying in the throes of desire would look fucking lit on my gravestone, though.
My thoughts are interrupted when he drags me over the fucking dirt with his grip on the chain around my neck.
My head bumps against the ground and pain explodes all over my back, but hey, he’s dragging me, not anyone else.
That’s what I call interest.
I laugh to myself as my number is announced on the speaker. Oh, now I’m eliminated from some nonsensical hunt.
Who cares?
Actually, I take it back. It’s not nonsensical. After all, I’m being hunted by Vaughn, or dragged, or what-the-fuck-ever.
Still counts.
I can fix him.
Just kidding, it’s probably the other way around, and he has to fix me.
Placing a hand behind my head, I try to observe his back as he proceeds to wipe the ground with me. But it’s really hard when my vision is upside down. His gloved fingers flex on the thick chains he has over his shoulders while he pulls me with brute, hot-as-fuck strength.
Which is odd. I swear I’m not really attracted to very masculine men and prefer feminine ones, but Vaughn’s strength is getting my dick hot and bothered.
“So, not that I’m complaining or anything, but don’t you think the quality of the date should be better if you intended to get freaky?”
He stops near a large tree, his back muscles flexing, his grip on the chain tightening.
A moment passes.
A second, almost.
Then he inhales sharply before tilting his head down in my direction, the white neon mask looking hot as fuck, if I may say so myself.
“Hi.” I wave again. “I’m open to new kinks, but I’m going to need you to take it real slow, Mishka. Nothing too crazy for the first time, deal?”
“Why aren’t you fighting?” He entirely ignores my suggestion—nothing new there—but he’s looking at me.
A win is a win.
Also, fuck me, did his voice always sound this nice? No, not nice—hot is the word I’m looking for. Deep and controlled and so goddamn delicious.
Can I devour a voice? Probably not, brain. Stop being so random and creepy.
“Yulian…” The subtle warning brings me to the present. No, not the present, to him, because I was looking at his mouth. Or where his mouth would be if there wasn’t a mask, imagining it rolling and saying my name in that eargasm voice.
“Oh.” I link my hands behind my head and grin. “Is that what we’re supposed to do? Fight?”
“That’s the whole point of this evening.”
“I thought it was so you could see me.” I stroke the chain around my neck—totally going to have bruises from this thing tomorrow. “Considering the date invitation and all.”
He remains silent, but his posture stiffens.
“What? I suspected it was you who sent the invitation, but I wasn’t sure until now. You weren’t surprised to see me, almost as if you were expecting me. So tell me, Mishka, what can I do for you? The date started rough, but I can totally make it better. Are you perhaps in the mood to try what I suggested in my latest vlog?”
He pivots around and stands astride me, his legs on either side of my stomach as he peers down at me with the neon glow.
Fuck me sideways, he looks ethereal with the sky and the trees framing him. I wish I had my phone so I could snap a picture.