Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I watch her body as I drive into her. Watch the muscles in her back tense and flex. Watch her neck arch and her breath stutter.
I sink my teeth into her shoulder, and her moan breaks apart like she’s falling.
I cup her breast, palm heavy and rough against her skin. She doesn’t flinch—doesn’t move. But when I flick her nipple, her body jerks.
And when I press my thumb to her tight little asshole while I fuck her…
That sharp cry? That’s the sound I’ll replay in my head every time I close my eyes.
“Kinky, beautiful girl,” I purr, licking the sweat from her throat. “Look how dirty you fucking are. You want me to take your ass, too, don’t you?”
She shudders, her voice low and seductive. “What you’re doing right now? It’s perfect.”
My cock throbs inside her, watching the red welts bloom across her ass. My teeth mark is dark on her shoulder.
I want her wet with my cum.
Dripping with it.
Owned by me.
I thrust into her again. And again, and again.
Until her fingers claw the tile. Until her whole body locks and shatters around me, and I spill inside her.
I slide my fingers over her clit, circling, rubbing.
She comes again, hard and breathless, screaming into the steam-filled air. Her scream ends with a sniff.
Is she… crying?
I stop moving inside her, still seated deep.
I wait.
But when I look at her, I can’t tell. Her face is pink, but it’s warm in here.
I take the washcloth and clean her, then clean myself, rinsing us under the water before I shut it off. My stomach growls.
“Hungry?” she asks.
“I’ve been going from one place to the next, barely stopping to eat. I’m fucking starving,” I tell her. “You?”
“Famished.”
I hand her a towel, and we dry off; then I take her into my room.
“You live here alone?” She looks around. My bedroom is small and clean, but not immaculately clean like my cousin Semyon’s place or messy and quirky like Rodion’s. It works. I only sleep in here.
I watch as her gaze falls on the cage just waiting for her in the corner, the pink lights twinkling, the bed on the floor made and ready for her. She has the audacity to smirk.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” she says in a low purr.
I open my mouth to retort when the sound of someone else’s voice stops me.
“Hello?” a voice calls from downstairs.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Her eyes fly to mine.
“I thought you just told me you lived alone.”
“I do,” I tell her through gritted teeth.
“Then who’s that? Are we even in your house?”
She doesn’t look vulnerable like some women would, standing in a stranger’s home, still flushed from getting fucked hard, wearing nothing but a towel, hair still wet and dripping down her face. No, she just looks pissed off.
“Those must be my parents. They’re the only people who have access to my house. Except Rafail. He has access to everything.”
For the first time, a glimmer of fear flickers in her eyes. She doesn’t want to see Rafail.
Tough shit.
“You let your parents just walk in like that?” she asks, tipping her head to the side, curious.
“Yeah, they have keys.” Because I feel guilty that their youngest son is dead, and I’m the one responsible. Because they’re the black sheep of the Bratva, and I owe them something for giving me life. Parental guilt’s a brutal bitch, and I’m not immune to it.
“Interesting,” she says. “So do you want me to go out there in a towel and scare them away?”
My vision blurs red. If my fucking father saw her in a towel, I’d have more than my brother’s blood on my hands.
“No. You need to wear something.”
I open my drawer. I should’ve thought of this, but I wasn’t planning on bringing her back so soon. I’ll have to call my cousins.
“We need to get you clothes,” I mutter.
“Funny thing about kidnapping someone and bringing them against their will to your house, isn’t it?” she says.
Jesus. This woman.
I open the bedroom door and stick my head out. “Give me five. I just got out of the shower, and I’m getting dressed. Don’t come upstairs.”
I slam the door with a click and turn to find her holding up a pair of boxers and a small, ivy-green T-shirt I don’t remember leaving there.
“What’s that?” I ask, already grumpy as fuck.
“It was the smallest thing in your drawer,” she says, rolling her eyes, but when she shakes it out, something twists in my chest.
No.
That’s Gleb’s. A shirt I stole from my mother before she got rid of all his clothes. Rafail would kill me if he knew I still had it.
She can’t wear that.
I take it from her hand and shove it back in the drawer. “Not that one.”
Great. Just fucking great.
She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.