The Mistake (Volkov Bratva #3) Read Online Sam Crescent

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Volkov Bratva Series by Sam Crescent
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
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And so, for the next hour, I held my wife, tilting her hips, getting her into position, feeling her ass nestled against my dick as she attempted to learn to shoot some of the balls. I wanted her again so badly. My dick ached to feel her wrapped around my cock.

I don’t know at what point she began to feel it, but we were both leaning across the pool table. My dick rested against her ass, but I felt her start to wriggle on my dick. The movement was slight at first. If I’d not been so close to her I wouldn’t have felt it. Just a slight twitch of her ass, subtle, but it was there. It made me want to grab her ass, fuck her hard, hold her down, and have my way with her.

Charlotte was new. She had no experience. Everything she learned was because of me. It made her even more tempting. She was all mine, and I’d never had anything that was mine before. Not all mine. My territory, even myself, I belonged to Ivan Volkov.

Then I realized Ivan had given me something. He’d given me Charlotte. Was that what he was doing? Rewarding us? I didn’t know if many men saw marriage as a reward, I certainly didn’t.

Ivan was always one step ahead of the game. He’s a man who knows what he’s doing. He plots and plans everything. I have no doubt he already had plans for Victor and Peter.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” I asked, gripping the fine curves of her ass. I hold her steady.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know what I want,” Charlotte said, her voice somewhat breathy.

I can’t help but grit my teeth. Where had this woman come from? I knew where she had, but how?

“Are you not sore?” I asked.

I was trying to be the gentleman, but Charlotte was not making it easy.

****

Lottie

I’m a little sore, but that isn’t going to stop me. All day, I’ve been trying to gain Ive’s attention, and it’s been one challenge after another. Is the man made of freaking ice? Am I not that attractive? Actually, I don’t even want to think about that, because the truth was, I didn’t see myself as particularly attractive. I’m nothing like Cassie, but I’m offering willing sex, doesn’t that count for something?

Ive spun me around and pressed me up against the pool table. He lifted me up and perched my ass on the end of the table, and it’s a little uncomfortable because my ass is bigger than the edge of the table. His hands slowly move up the outside of my thighs and then stop.

“Are you sore?” he asked the question again, and I can’t help but nibble my lip. He’s so close, I feel the hard ridge of his cock.

“No.” It’s not a total lie. I’m a little sore, but not sore enough to say no. I want to feel him inside me.

“You’re lying,” he said.

All I want to do is touch him, but I’m using my hands to keep me upright. They’re pressed to the felted top. I do no more than thrust my chest against his.

“But I want you,” I said.

For some reason, this makes him jerk, just slightly. If I’d not been paying attention, I’d have missed it, but I saw him do it. Why does my truth make him do that? Nibbling my lip, I stare into his blue eyes. Does he not see how much I want him? From the moment I first met him, I’d been equally terrified and intrigued by this man.

Some people might say I have “Daddy issues,” and maybe I do, but I don’t care. Ive’s the first man I was attracted to. The first man who locked me up, but also fed me, and made sure I was safe and warm. He took care of me.

I know Rage took care of me, but he did so behind the scenes, never crossing that line that pissed my own father off.

Ive’s different. He didn’t throw me away. I was the mistake. They could have killed me, but they didn’t. I don’t know why they didn’t.

One of his hands moves from my ass and goes toward my knee. I don’t avert my gaze but I look into his eyes. I don’t want to miss a moment. Slowly, so achingly slow, he travels up my knee, and then moves toward the inside of my thigh. The tips of his fingers are feather light. He’s so close to my pussy. When he cups me, I moan.

“If you can’t take my fingers, you’re not taking my cock.”

The timber of his voice awakens my body, setting it on fire. I sink my teeth into my lip and try to stay focused on what is happening.


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