Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“You keep doing that, and I won’t make it inside of you,” I tease.
She smiles at me warmly. “Then quit torturing me and give me what I need.”
With a request like that, how could I not? I pry my cock from her hand and rub it obscenely against her wet pussy. My balls are so tight they feel spring loaded, and I’m doubtful how long I’ll survive once I get inside her.
“Conor,” she whines.
I squeeze the head of my dick into her tight hole, and she shudders, wiggling her hips until she sinks down and bottoms out.
“Christ,” I rumble, reaching down to grope her. “Ye’re so tight baby. I need you to come for me before I blow my fucking load.”
Her nails dig into my back and she bites down on my shoulder in an attempt to stay quiet while I finger her clit. Ivy needs this as much as I do, and it doesn’t take her long. The orgasm rips through her with a violence that leaves her panting for breath, and I’m already fucking her before the aftershocks end.
So wet, and warm, and mine. I thrust up into her again and again, squeezing her ass as my eyes fall shut and my head lolls back. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but ride out of the wave as hot come spurts from my dick into her womb, filling her. Claiming her.
We are both breathless and spent when I come back down from the high, mauling her lips with a possession I refuse to water down.
“Mine,” I utter. “Only mine.”
“How is he?”
Alexei arches a brow at me. “I’d venture a guess that he’s pretty sore.”
A smile curves across both our faces as Boris walks out of the room, a cigarette hanging between his lips as he zips up his trousers. “I think I’ve taken my fill of pleasure. He’s boring me now.”
“They always bore you when they stop screaming,” Alexei muses.
They laugh, and I nod to Boris. “Thank you for your service.”
“Anytime,” he puffs out between drags.
The Russians are our allies, and Boris has helped us out many a time when the situation warranted it. Our brotherhood is a firm believer in an eye for an eye, and even though Slick might not have touched Ivy, he certainly intended to. There is only one suitable punishment for such a crime. When I open the door and find his limp body draped over a wooden bench, I have no remorse for his agony.
“You,” he slurs, eyes opening half mast. “Fucking kill me or let me go you sadistic fuck.”
“As you wish.” I pull out my Glock and tap it against my thigh. “Just one question though. What exactly were your intentions with the boy?”
Slick makes an unintelligible sound, and I can see the wheels turning in his pea sized brain. He knows what’s coming, and I don’t expect honesty from him, but it can’t hurt to ask.
“I wouldn’t have harmed him. It was just a matter of keeping her compliant.”
“Aye.” I curl my lip in disgust. “You would. What honor do ye have left? Ye’re going to die, there’s nothing left to lose now.”
“I don’t hurt kids,” Slick insists.
“To be sure, ye don’t hurt my kid.”
His lips flatten, and he’s practically frothing at the mouth to challenge me on that, but he knows better.
“Blood or not, that boy is my son,” I inform him. “And you should know what happens when ye touch a brother’s son.”
“I didn’t touch him.” Slick thrashes against his restraints with what little life he has left.
“But ye thought about it. That was enough.”
I stuff the Glock back into my jeans and reach for my knife instead. Slick breathes harder in anticipation, flinching when I step nearer. He’s wrong if he thinks it’s going to be a violent attack. Slow and steady wins the race.
I cut the rope from his waist and use it to secure the knots between his wrists and ankles. A quick call out to Boris, and he opens the door and lets Alexei inside with the wheelbarrow.
“What the fuck now?” Slick yelps. “Just finish me already.”
“I intend to.”
Not so gingerly, I dump the sack of shite face down into the wheelbarrow. He doesn’t say a word, but he’s shaking as we wheel him down the dark tunnel in Alexei’s basement. When we reach the exit, the sun is high and it’s a beautiful day for a funeral.
Slick wastes his energy carrying on the entire way to the fresh slice of earth in the woods where many a traitor has come to meet his maker. The freshly excavated hole is six feet deep, and Alexei seems to appreciate my efforts.
“You didn’t skimp on the details,” he says. “This is good.”
Without further ado, we each grab one side of the barrow and unceremoniously dump Slick into the hole.