Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
He opens a door at the end of a long hall, dropping my jaw. This place is massive—well outside even my mother’s range. I don’t get the chance to enjoy the splendor.
“You could have said a gangbang, милая.”
“And you could have just shut up and made me come instead of worrying about men previously not up to the task. Alas, I’ve yet to meet a man who uses the brain above his shoulders when he’s—”
I snap my mouth shut before I can dig my hole any deeper.
“When he’s…?” Andrik pushes, looking smug. “Fucking? Consuming? Rocking someone’s entire existence with only his fingers?”
His smug expression grows when I bark, “I was going to say, ‘when he’s too hard to think straight.’ But if you’re seeking a pat on the back you’ve been denied since birth, we can go with whatever you want.”
His husky laugh makes me hot, and I hate myself for it. I’m meant to be finding a way out of his clutch, not doubling my wish to stay. “I don’t know whether I should teach you some manners with my hand or my cane.”
Cane?
He said cane, right? I didn’t mishear him. My pulse is still thudding in my ears, so a mishap is easily excusable.
Our entrance into the living room of the penthouse apartment assures me I don’t need my hearing tested. A lady is kneeling on the floor in the middle of the opulent space. She’s naked, her head is bowed, and her hands are balanced on her trembling thighs, palm side up.
Even to a BDSM novice, her pose is obvious.
“Leave. Now.”
Andrik doesn’t need to ask me twice. I hightail it to the door, almost beating the brunette who moves like the wind—silent yet swift.
“Not you.”
Andrik tugs me back with the same cruel yank he used in the elevator, so naturally, my instincts respond with the same level of violence.
Again, my slap turns him on more than it annoys him. The front of his pants tightens as the most wickedly evil smirk makes his face even sexier.
“Shouldn’t that be the equivalent of eye-rolling to you?” I didn’t read as many romance novels as Nikita did during college, but I’m reasonably sure slapping is a no-go for a submissive to do to her dom. “Was she your sub?”
“She doesn’t matter.”
His curt reply announces his lifestyle status isn’t up for negotiation. I can’t help but push, though. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I hook my thumb to the door his submissive just raced through. “I’m going to go.”
“Sit, Лисичка.”
I continue walking as if I’m not the least bit curious about his changeup in nicknames.
“Now!”
I’m not given the option to keep walking this time. He tosses his suit jacket onto an armchair before he bands his arm around my waist and pulls me back until I land in a secondary chair with a clatter.
When I kick and punch, several of my blows make contact. He doesn’t react negatively until I drag my nails down his cheek. “Settle down before I take you on the very fucking floor she was most likely kneeling on for the past sixteen-plus hours, awaiting her master.” He grips my face firm enough for his nails to dig into my cheek but not enough to leave a mark before he forces my eyes back to his. “I didn’t order her. She was most likely a gift. A welcome home present, as such. Tonight is the first time I’ve laid eyes on her.”
There’s too much honesty in his narrowed gaze for me to dispute, and Andrik knows that.
He’s as smug now as he was when I failed to announce a single protest to him slipping his hand inside my panties.
“Not that you would have cared if she was mine.”
My heart thuds in my ears when he falls to his knees, forcing a gap between my thighs with his wide frame.
“You like that I picked you over her, that I didn’t even look in her direction.”
He drags the back of his hand down my panties that are so soaked they erotically display the lines of my pussy.
“Because you know as well as I do that no woman could ever compete with you.”
He tsks me again. Its rumble rolls through my throbbing clit when my desire to ease the ache between my legs sees me minimizing my thigh gap.
After pulling them back to his desired width, he says, “I worked for that scent, so I deserve to cherish it.”
His eye contact is too intimate when he watches me over the heavy rise and fall of my chest as he drags his nose down the seam of my panties.
It doubles the slickness between my legs in an instant and has me on the verge of begging.
I won’t, though.
If I talk, I’ll moan, and that will only be seen as a victory to a man as dominant as Andrik.