Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Lenin is quiet. “Then I’m glad you have them.” He picks up my hand and kisses the small of my wrist, sending a gust of giddiness into my stomach. “It pains me that you were forced to dance for me to save them. If you’d only asked, I would have torn down the building to find them and lay them at your feet.”
“I think I know that now,” I whisper.
“Good.” His tongue traces the veins at my wrist. “I find I can’t regret you rubbing your creamy little cunt on me until you drenched my zipper.”
My moan, my pulse, my brainwaves are choppy. Why do these forbidden words sound so amazing coming from his mouth? “I can’t seem to regret it, either.”
“Mmmm. You’ll rub that sweet cunt on my face later, Margaret.” He tongues my palm. “All over my tongue and chin and cheeks. Then I’ll kiss that mess back onto your pretty face while I mate you like a fucking animal.”
“Oh,” I wheeze, my feminine flesh constricting painfully. “Oh.”
An affirmative rumble leaves his chest. “Let’s get back to the horses.”
Sensory overload. “The…what?”
“Horses, Margaret.” Appearing half amused, half predatory, Lenin traces my lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “I will bring you to ride horses. Would this make you happy?”
My spine straightens. “You’d do that?”
Lenin is visibly affronted that I would doubt him. “Of course. We will give them silly names, too. Like…Joe.”
I giggle. “Joe?”
“It is a silly name for a horse, is it not?”
“Why the long face, Joe?” I give a firm nod. “I like it.”
He is very pleased with himself.
“Are you going to steal me something?”
“I will merely ask for whatever it is you wish, Margaret. Firmly.”
Not for the first time, I sense darkness inside of Lenin, but I’m too warm, safe and full of carbs to question it tonight. Maybe tomorrow. And then our food arrives and I sip my wine while enjoying the best meal I’ve ever eaten.
Life is good.
But only for now? Or forever?
CHAPTER FOUR
Lenin
Perhaps I should not have been so blunt with my Margaret about wanting to fuck her tonight.
We are inside the hotel room and she looks like she’s being marched toward the gallows. I must admit, I find the change in her mood confusing since she did her utmost to make me come in my pants back at the restaurant. She is a complicated little beauty and I’m almost sick with lust, anxious beyond belief to bed her, but I don’t like the way she’s wringing her hands and trying to melt into the wall. Something must be done to fix this.
When she isn’t smiling, I get itchy.
She should always be smiling.
Deep in thought over how to ease her nerves, I make a quick observation of the room. It is nice. In my profession, I would normally sweep the room for listening devices or cameras, to be on the safe side. Next I would go to the window and memorize the layout of the immediate area. Then I would review the information on my target, clean my gun and prepare for the hit. The room would be inconsequential to me. Merely a place to rest so I can be sharp when it counts.
Now, however, I observe it with an eye toward worthiness of Margaret. I booked the biggest room available, but I suspect anything less than a palace would leave me unsatisfied when it comes to where she sleeps. Still, it is safe and tasteful with its glowing crystal lamps, mirrored furniture, thick white carpeting and separate bedroom. Art depicting Paris and Spain hang on the walls. The living area is laid out in front of a big picture window, the Inner Harbor sparkling below.
For tonight, it will do.
I take off my jacket and shoulder holster, hanging them carefully on the back of a chair. We watch each other while I undo the buttons at my wrists and roll up my sleeves. There are matters I have to attend to soon, such as the forty missed calls from my employer on my phone. Tonight marks the first time since my youth that I have not completed a mission. Ironically, this job was meant to be my last. When I was sixteen, I struck a deal with the Bratva to get my family out of debt and from that moment forward, they owned me. Now they loan me out to smaller crime syndicates all over the globe. From every one of my substantial paychecks, the Bratva takes a cut. Tonight I was going to get out forever, with one final hit.
My employer will not be happy that I let the gnat live.
Right now, Margaret is more important than all of that. Even my own life being at risk.
“Time for your bath, da?”
Her swallow is audible. “Oh, are we still doing that?”
“I follow through on my promises, angel.”