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)
“It’s fine. We prefer our room.” He stares at Mom. “Come for breakfast so you can have the same talk with your mother.”
I nod and smile as he carries her out of the house with effortless ease.
After they’re gone, I get into the shower and take the iciest one I’ve ever had, until my bones freeze and my fingertips turn blue.
And yet no amount of cold can dispel the memories that rush through my head with every splash of water.
Rough hands, soft lips, hard muscles, and low, growly whispers.
Punching and kissing and choking and jerking and coming—
“Fuck.” I drive my fist into the wall, wet strands falling onto my forehead as the water beats down on my tense shoulders.
My cock twitches despite the cold, and I groan, because seriously, what in the actual fuck?
I’m nineteen years old, and I’ve never had an orgasm as intense as the one I had in Yulian’s hand.
I’ve kissed many girls, but I’ve never felt a more out-of-body experience than when I was devouring Yulian, biting and licking and sucking and drinking his blood.
And I want more.
Of his lips and hands and fucking blood.
I want to suck him dry.
But I can’t. Because that’s not part of the plan.
He isn’t part of the plan.
Even if my body protests profusely at the thought of not having that experience again.
But screw my body. I’ve lived just fine up until now, having good enough sexual intercourse. That’s all I’ll be getting back to.
Not some rough touches and a fight for dominance and an orgasm so stimulating, I can’t stop thinking about it.
With another curse, I turn off the shower and get into bed, my tablet in hand. I go through some of the information I have my hackers send me on the regular, just in case we’ve come up with any dirt on the other factions.
My father taught me that the best defense is offense. The more we can win without spilling a drop of blood, the better it is.
So we need dirt. Consider it a preemptive strike of sorts.
After a while, I turn off the light and stare at the dark ceiling. Sleep doesn’t come.
Despite the fact that I need to wake up early to visit my parents. Despite my continuous thoughts that I need to rest.
It’s almost as if my brain is on a high, my body’s restless, and my soul is in shreds.
I pick up my phone and swallow when I see the text from Yulian. It’s been there since about an hour after I left. Yes, I went to the airport as soon as I walked out on Yulian, not even telling Jeremy and the others. I needed to get out of there before I hunted down the bane of my existence and indulged in more impulsive actions.
Part of me says not to open the text, block him, and pretend he doesn’t exist.
But that’s never worked for me before.
With a deep inhale, I click on the text, and a video appears in which Yulian is lying on his back, holding up the phone, revealing his face and some of his naked torso.
There’s a red bruise on his cheek, my doing, because he was being a creepy asshole about the whole feeling-me-inside-Danika thing.
But you came because of it, so what does that make you?
My gaze trails down to the defined ridges of his muscular chest, right above his left pectoral muscle, where he has a single tattooed sentence in neat Cyrillic.
Я с тобой (Ya s toboy).
I’m with you.
I noticed it the other day in another video, but I’m not sure what it means, and it probably has a meaning since it’s the only tattoo on his chest.
“You know, it’s rude to leave a man lying on the forest floor with a massive erection.” He pouts. “I gave you a hand, so the least you could’ve done was reciprocate. Give and take, you know. A very simple concept.”
I scoff, because he’s playing the victim so well, feigning a wounded expression and everything.
“How did I take care of the problem? I’m glad you asked, Mishka. I just jerked off in the shower, picturing your beautiful face when you came all over my hand. Kind of contemplated not washing it for days, just so I could feel your cum, but that wouldn’t have been feasible, unfortunately.”
“Creep,” I mutter.
“You just thought I was creepy as fuck, right?” He grins. “I am, so not denying that. But admit it—part of you likes that. You were so fucking tight and wound up in my arms. You know, if you hadn’t run away, I would’ve come in my pants. I’m open to trying again whenever you feel like dropping by, let’s say next week? Or tomorrow if you like. I’ll keep my calendar open for you.
“You just thought I talked a lot, didn’t you? But listen, this is for your own good. I need to give you pointers now that you’re exploring your sexuality. Consider me your tutor of sorts. There’s no need to put a label on it—bi or gay or anything in between doesn’t really matter. Just do what you love.” He lifts a hand. “I’ll volunteer to be your sex coach. I’m the best in the market and can provide testimonials if you wish.”