Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
My eyes fill with tears at the sight of the wound, but I try again, lunging forward to get past him.
But a ferocious snarl in Russian stops me.
No, it’s not the snarl, it’s the gun.
It’s the expression.
Young Mika stands behind Vlad, his face pale and tortured, a pistol wobbling in his shaking hands.
“Nyet!” Vlad yanks the knife out of his ribs and tosses it on the floor, then turns and grabs the gun.
I don’t speak Russian, but it’s easy to tell that whatever he’s yelling at Mika isn’t kind. It’s a tongue-lashing of great magnitude. While he yells, he empties the pistol of its magazine and shoves it in the back of his waistband. All the while, he’s bleeding profusely.
I feel like I’m going to puke.
Vlad continues scolding Mika. I’m not sure whether it’s over allowing me to get ahold of the pocket knife or pointing a gun at me, but the boy’s ears turn red and his jaw shifts right and left, chin wobbling slightly.
I’m actually feeling sorry for him, even though he might have just killed me.
Even though my chances of escape just diminished to zero.
The boy appears to attempt to defend himself, gesturing at me as he mumbles in Russian, but Vlad cuts him off with several more sharp words.
I can’t move from where I’m standing. There’s nowhere to go, anyway. I’m shaking all over, although I’m not sure if I’m more upset about what I did to Vlad, Mika’s humiliation or what’s about to happen to me.
When the boy shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away, blinking rapidly, Vlad finally relents. His voice gets quieter. More coaxing. He touches the boy on the shoulder, and says something else in softer tones. Ruffles the boy’s hair.
Mika turns and escapes the way I wanted to.
When Vlad swivels back to face me, my stomach drops.
“Vlad,” I whisper.
I don’t know what I want to say. I’m sorry? Don’t hurt me? I wasn’t trying to kill you? Or maybe just Please don’t die.
I don’t know why I care, but it seems I do.
I blink furiously, but my eyes still fill with tears.
Vlad gives a short shake of his head as he takes a step closer to me. “Save the tears for your punishment, printsessa. I will live.”
I let out a sound—half laugh, half sob and he throws me over his shoulder even though I should probably be the one carrying him at this point.
He moves slower than usual, but he gets me upstairs and drops me on the bed, then rips off the t-shirt he put on me.
“Vlad,” I croak again.
I push myself up on my elbows, breath coming fast, nipples puckered even though this isn’t sex. What’s he going to do it me?
He re-ties my hands in front of me, his movements deft and sure. Then he grabs my calves and tugs me off the end of the bed, flipping me over so my feet land on the ground, but my torso’s flat on the bed.
Yeah, ass out.
Another spanking.
It’s so out of proportion to what I just did to him that I want to laugh.
He tugs my panties down to my thighs and slaps my ass right and left a few times.
I welcome the sensation. If this is the worst he’s going to give, I’m happy to take it. I just think he might need to get himself to a hospital in the meantime.
He pushes one hand into my lower back to hold me still and spanks hard. It’s already sexual—everything about the punishment is sexual—my nudity, being tied up, being slapped so close to my pussy. But when he slides his thumb between my ass cheeks and pushes it against my asshole, my sexual response goes into hyperdrive.
Something seizes and lifts in my low belly, my pussy gushes, dripping onto my thighs. The sounds that come from my mouth sound distinctly like sex moans.
Vlad continues spanking my ass right and left a dozen or so times, jostling my hips and the contact of his thumb remains. He doesn’t actually penetrate me, but it’s always there, at my most intimate place.
And then he abruptly stops.
“Don’t. Move,” he growls.
That’s an impossible order. Because, you see, my body’s about to explode. Heat twists and arcs through me, pulsing in my core. Even though he released me, I’m intensely aware of my asshole. My pussy. The neediness coursing through me.
I turn my head and watch as he goes into the bathroom and strips off his bloody shirt, examining the wound in the mirror.
I shouldn’t be turned on at a moment like this.
It’s like all the fear just morphed into something dark and sexual. My ass is hot and stinging. Still bared to him.
He’s manly to the nth degree. He just took a knife wound without even a grimace. He pulled it out and tossed it on the floor like I’d scratched him with my fingernail. And the only anger he showed was toward Mika!