Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“First day, my ass,” I mutter under my breath while slapping the denim-covered mounds bouncing in front of me.
“Hey,” Ilya shouts. “Touching is extra.” When I hit him with a stern sideways glance, he mutters, “They’re not my rules. Her owner—”
“Better check himself before I pay him a visit,” I interrupt, my tone warning I’m not playing.
Ilya’s swallow is only just audible over the blonde’s whispered request, “Stop it.”
My heart’s sluggish beat kicks up a gear that she has the gall to demand anything from me. No one else in our vicinity would. My cock, now strained against the zipper of my jeans, won’t stop me from riling her back, though. “What? I didn’t say anything that ain’t true.”
She prances around me, hopeful her seductive routine will lessen the thuds of the vein in my neck…
… it doubles it.
And my annoyance is heard in my low tone when I say, “Lose the shorts.”
My growl rumbles around the compact yet still fancy-looking room when Ilya utters, “That’ll be extra.”
Over playing games, I repeat, “Lose. The. Fucking. Shorts.”
Through a shield of faultless locks fallen in front of her gorgeous face, the blonde whispers, “Alek.”
“Now, Anastasia!”
“Anastasia?” Ilya gasps out with a shocked breath, his shoulder no longer butted against the wall. “I thought you said your name was Eve.”
Aware I will forever be the greater of the two evils, Anastasia keeps her eyes locked with mine while pleading, “I need this job.”
I act as if there isn’t an ounce of honesty in her comment. “Take. Them. Off.”
She rolls her eyes and grits her teeth, but a second after calling me every derogative name under her breath, her hands shoot down to the button on her teeny tiny denim shorts.
As she drags the skintight material down her slender thighs, the twitch in my cock turns into a full-blown spasm. For a woman who has lived a hard and fast life, her body is like a bottle of wine. It gets finer with age.
Once her shorts are discarded at the side, I drop my eyes to my crotch. “Now show me that move you did earlier. The one where you bounced your ass in front of my face while grinding your pussy against my dick.”
“I—”
My voice rumbles through the suddenly shrinking-in-size room when I interrupt, “Now, Anastasia!”
After peering at Ilya in silent apologies, she straddles my lap reverse cowgirl style, swoops down low to hook onto my ankles, then brings her peachy ass real close to my face.
I spank her again—without protest this time—before I prove to Ilya in no uncertain terms who Anastasia’s owner is. I bite, and I bite fucking hard, on the tattoo high on her right butt cheek, producing a whimpering moan from Anastasia. To anyone else, it would be a cruel, demoralizing mauling. To Ana, it is foreplay.
Once heated skin tinged with blood streams into my nostrils, I free the skin sending my senses into overdrive. Anastasia’s knees buckle when I soothe the sting of my bite with a lash of my tongue, so I curl my arm around her slender waist to keep her upright before undoubtedly proving she will never be owned by another man in this god-forbidden town who isn’t me.
My teeth marks are a perfect match to the ones I tattooed on her ass, and they’re all the proof I need that she will forever be mine.
2
ANASTASIA
“You are such an asshole.”
Several dancers gasp in shock when I burst into the dressing room with Alek hot on my tail, but once their surprise wears off, they flutter their lashes and make gaga faces at Alek.
Even frustrated beyond hell, I understand their instant fascination. Time has been good to him. His hair is longer than the last time I saw him. Outside of the messy man bun, I’d say his dirty blond locks sit just below his shoulders. His eyes are crystal blue since they’re clear of the narcotics he regularly used during our tumultuous three-year relationship, and his body should be on Russia’s most wanted.
He is as hot as fuck, but I will never tell him that—again.
I hate him and everything he stands for, and I won’t hold back to ensure he knows exactly that fact.
“This is my fucking life, Alek. My livelihood! You have no right to trample over it.” As I stuff my clothes into my holey gym bag, immature tears threaten to slip down my face. I wasn’t lying when I told Alek I needed this job. It is my last chance to skip some of the shitfest the last twenty-three years of my life have been plagued with. I’m tired, exhausted from this damn life, and Maksim’s club was my one-way ticket back out of it. “It’s been three years. It is time to get the fuck over yourself.”
“Four,” Alek corrects, shadowing my walk, his strut as cocky as ever. “And the tattoo wasn’t my idea, драгоценный.”