Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
My heart rate slows to a sluggish beat when I stray my eyes to the single-seater couch, and I spot a cell phone on a table to its left. It looks a lot like Vasily’s cell.
Oh, God, please don’t be so cruel.
With how hard I’m shaking, it takes three times the usual length to type out a quick text to Vasily.
Me:
I forgot I have to work late tomorrow. Nat has a date. Sorry.
My heart slips to my feet when the cell on the table buzzes and vibrates.
If that’s Vasily’s cell, that can only mean one thing.
Vas has Yev’s phone.
Shit.
Shit!
Shit!
8
YEV
“How many fucking times do I need to spell it out for you?” I tighten my grip on my phone before snarling out through clenched teeth, “I. Do. Not. Pay. For. Prostitutes. I have an eleven-inch cock. Women would pay me if I entered an industry like”—I check the name of the business that charged a little over three thousand dollars to my Mastercard last week—“Spanks.”
My comment about my cock’s length is a slight exaggeration, but give me some leeway. I’m pissed as fuck. The charges I am disputing were processed within thirty minutes of my cock reacquainting with Polina’s pussy. Even frustrated as fuck by Vasily’s unexpected arrival at her apartment, I wouldn’t seek the help of a hooker to get over my annoyance.
Cocaine worked perfectly fine.
The bank clerk’s tone is nasally when she says, “The payment was made with your phone. We have the sim card and the phone’s IP address on file.”
“It’s not possible,” I tell her again. “My phone was on me the entire time, and I was nowhere near that area of Kronstadt.”
That’s a lie. My phone magically arrived on my coffee table the morning following my impromptu romp with Polina. Since I assumed it fell out of my pocket when I yanked my jeans and boxers to my knees, I didn’t consider checking to see if it had been used.
Polina isn’t a thief. She won’t even borrow a single article of clothing from her boutique without paying for it in full.
“Can you at least give me the address of the fine establishment I supposedly blew three Gs at?”
The clerk’s sigh is more in relief than frustration. “Of course. Do you have a pen?”
After jotting down the details, I tell her to have a pleasant fucking day before ending our call and collecting my keys off the entryway table. It isn’t for the convertible I was getting around in before I pushed my brother toward his untimely death. It is the piece-of-shit car the dealer refused to trade in, even with me spending close to half a million for a car Polina’s rich clients gloated about. The AC doesn’t work, it’s rusted and beat up, and I can’t wind down the driver’s side window, which makes it a real fucking shitshow when the cops pull me over.
My car screams Gangbanger 101, and I’m more embarrassed of the title than proud like I was a couple years ago.
A title like “gangbanger” won’t get me a woman like Polina.
It is a pain in the ass to find a parking spot when I reach Novaya Avenue. The streets are forever littered with drunk, horny idiots, but it is worse on a Friday night.
I give up on a prime spot and settle for an alleyway a block back from the action. I’m about to exit the dark alley when a flurry of blonde captures my attention.
Blondes are in abundance in Kronstadt, but none are as ravishing as the beauty being possessively grabbed by a douche not close to her league next to a restaurant that charges thirty dollars for a glass of tap water.
Vasily Cabanow would spend more time in front of the mirror than with his head buried between any woman’s legs. His suit is vomit-worthy, his shoes over-polished, and he stands like he has a stick shoved up his ass, yet he’s holding Polina possessively at his side, making every chump in a five-mile radius jealous as fuck.
Myself included.
I don’t know what I was thinking when I took Polina hard and fast against the wall of her apartment, but I sure as fuck didn’t expect her to push me into the bathroom like she’s ashamed to be seen with me seconds after cum finished erupting from my cock.
She’s always been about fashion and only ever presenting your best self, but I thought her snooty stance ended the instant I stabbed my tongue into her dripping cunt for the first time.
Furthermore, she acts untouchable to protect herself, so how the fuck did a douche like Vasily break through her once impenetrable shell?
When I spot Vasily dragging his unbandaged hand across Polina’s forehead like he’s checking for a temperature, I pretend to tie my shoes. I don’t give a fuck if Vasily spots my stalk. I merely need a moment to work out what to say to Polina when I stand across from her again.