Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“Once we leave this place—-” Sergei’s heavily-lidded glance captured hers.
Ah.
She remembered the way he had loomed over her, his dark eyes drinking in the helpless ecstasy that had taken control of her as she came under him with a cry—-
“I’ll be able to fuck you the way we both want—-”
Madeline’s legs quickly pressed together under the table.
“And no one’s going to be bored then.”
Aaaah.
She gulped.
She melted.
She surrendered.
The Russian billionaire slowly let go of her hand, leaning back while his dark gaze remained on her. The way his eyes glittered was all too familiar. It was the way she looked at men she had wrapped devotedly around her little finger, men who would do anything for her.
The same way this boy could also make me do anything he wants, Madeline realized uneasily.
The old Madeline Carter would have grabbed the glass of wine on the table, tossed the contents on his face, and left the table.
But she couldn’t remember how to be that Madeline, couldn’t even make herself want to leave him, knowing that if she did—-
She would never get to fuck him again.
After all, Sergei Grachyov didn’t do second chances.
The Russian billionaire’s phone suddenly rang, drawing his attention away from Madeline. He glanced at it and his dark brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this call.”
No!
Who do you think I am?
The moment you stand, it’s over.
These were the words that automatically brimmed to her lips, words that Madeline wouldn’t have hesitated to use on any other man...except Sergei Grachyov.
She forced a smile. “Of course.” It was her first time to be so gracious, and it didn’t sit well with her at all. But when the Russian billionaire slid to his feet, she came to realize that sometimes, it did pay to be nice.
Bending down, the billionaire whispered to her ear, “Thank you for not being a bitch about it.” He pressed his hand on her bare back as he said huskily, “I’ll make it up to you later.”
He walked way, and she could only stare at him, feeling herself get wetter as deliciously lurid memories slid into her mind.
Sergei’s mouth conquering hers in the deepest kiss—-
Sergei driving into her with his massive cock—-
Sergei’s relentless fucking forcing her, of all people, to beg for a respite—-
Madeline gazed at him with naked hunger, no longer caring that other patrons only had to look at her to know how horny she was.
All she cared about was having the Russian billionaire between her legs, his cock inside of her, as soon as possible.
CHOOSING A PRIVATE and empty corner inside the café, Sergei Grachyov answered the call from his younger brother, murmuring, “What is it, Misha?”
“Am I interrupting?”
“Nyet,” the billionaire answered. And even if Misha were, it wouldn’t matter. Family always came first when it came to the Grachyov clan.
While listening to his brother, Sergei noticed a familiar figure in the restaurant seated by the bar. It was his mentor in university, Julian Alexeyev, and the professor was talking to a woman who was obviously doing her best to flirt with him—-
And failing.
Sergei almost raised a brow at the way the woman fluttered her lashes at the professor. Did she not know that such a tactic was reserved for girls in kindergarten? Even worse, the woman was doing it all wrong, blinking so fast that he heard the professor ask if she was having a headache.
“Do you understand what that means?” Misha’s abrupt tone forced Sergei’s attention back on the conversation even as his gaze stayed on the world’s most painfully awkward flirt.
“Misha—-”
“Papa’s in love with her.”
Sergei frowned. “Aren’t you jumping into conclusions?”
“I know what you saw.”
Sergei wasn’t able to immediately answer, distracted once again by the woman beside the professor, whose attempts at flirting continued to be remarkably childish. This time, she had thrown her head back – so hard it was a wonder she didn’t end up breaking her neck as she did – with a laugh that sounded more like a neighing horse in the throes of death.
“Sergei?”
Misha’s impatient voice forced him to look away from the woman still flirting unsuccessfully with the professor. “Papa is old enough to make decisions on his own,” Sergei said finally.
“It still doesn’t feel right. She seems to be hiding something.”
Knowing that his brother’s instincts were rarely wrong, Sergei came to a decision, murmuring, “I’ll have security look her up. Let’s talk about it when I get home. But for now – don’t let Papa see you have any doubts about her.”
“Da.” It was testament of Misha’s infinite trust in his older brother that he didn’t even think to question Sergei’s decision.
When the call ended, Sergei remained where he stood, Misha’s revelations putting him in a brooding mood. A night spent fucking Madeline Carter had completely lost its appeal, but Sergei knew canceling would slight the model’s vanity, which would then likely lead to a scene he didn’t look forward to getting involved in.