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)
“Next time you come without permission, you’re going to feel my belt across that lovely ass,” I warn.
I release her completely and she hides her face between her arms with a sob.
I straighten and look down at what a fucking perfect picture she makes on my bed. I rub her reddened ass, not sure why she brings out such tenderness in me. Maybe it’s not tenderness but the need to show my ownership, prove my control.
Either way, I stroke her heated flesh in slow circles until she relaxes. Then I lift her fully onto the bed and pull the corner of the comforter up over her naked body.
Chapter 7
Alessia
I work to stop the trembling in my limbs as we board the plane. I had a plan—my last hope—to alert anyone and everyone I see that I’m a prisoner.
But there’s no one. It’s dark out, we’re on a private flight and clearly every man here works for Vlad.
There’s no one to scream to, no one to help me.
Vlad has an iron grip on my arm and he hustles me quickly onto the craft and pushes me into a seat. I notice he’s favoring his hurt side a bit, which serves him right.
I can’t really figure out how one Russian and a twelve-year-old kid can avoid the wide, wide net of the Tacone crime family.
How this can actually be happening. Me, going to Russia to supposedly marry the enemy.
“You’re shaking,” Vlad observes as he ties me to the seat.
“I don’t want to go to Russia.”
“Too bad,” he answers immediately. “You’re going.”
“And you’re a dick,” I mutter. It’s childish, but what else can I do? Calling him names is my only option when I’m tied to a seat on a private jet, surrounded by dangerous-looking men.
Without my panties.
Yeah, he put my dress back on, but refused to let me wear panties. Said I’m still on restriction.
I know, big deal. I have far bigger problems than the fact that I’m bare-beaver under my dress, but it’s screwing with my head.
Making me hot and horny and vulnerable. Making me think way too much about the spankings he gave me today.
The orgasms.
Vlad is everything dark, dirty and dominant I never dreamed about but must’ve always wanted, because he turns me inside out. Every interaction with him I come away changed.
He crouches beside me and tests my blood sugar. Normally, with a controlled diet and regular shots, I only check it once in the morning and once in the evening.
But he was right to check. The adrenaline that’s making me shake made my blood sugar tank. He fills a needle with insulin like he’s been doing this all his life.
I flinch when he goes to lift my dress. I have no panties on and Mika is sitting a few feet away. He stops and shifts to inject my upper arm instead.
This is part of why he turns me inside out. He’s a first class asshole, for sure. A criminal who is taking me from everything I’ve ever known and loved. Holding me ransom. No, not ransom, he says he’s keeping me. But for all that, he’s also thoughtful. Aware of my reactions and needs. He may growl and threaten. He may talk a mean game, but he made a special trip to get the coffee I like. And he stopped when I said no.
I had to—there was no way I was going to beg.
No way in hell.
Which doesn’t mean my body didn’t completely revolt when he stopped. I’d been two breaths away from an orgasm.
And I can’t believe I came anyway. Just from him spanking me.
That’s what I mean about turning me inside out. I’ve never had a guy smack my ass before. I didn’t know how much it turned me on. Didn’t know about the desire that would steam, sizzle and bubble out of me like lava overflowing the side of a volcano.
Vlad rubs the injection site when he’s done, then sits beside me for takeoff.
Across the aisle, Mika appears pale, his big brown eyes haunted. He grips the arms of his chair.
I lift my chin in his direction. “Is he afraid of flying?”
Vlad produces an orange from his bag and starts to peel it as he considers him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Maybe Russia holds bad memories for him.”
“Worse than America?” I ask drily. The poor kid was abandoned by his own mother here.
Vlad feeds me a section of orange. “Yes.”
There’s so much in that one word. Somehow I hear a lifetime of pain, both for Vlad and Mika. Or maybe that’s just my imagination running wild.
“Could be he’s worried about his future there,” Vlad muses.
I tense slightly, worried too. “You’ll keep him, right? Take care of him.”
Something in the boy’s posture tells me he might be eavesdropping. His shoulders stiffen and he goes perfectly still.