Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 93506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“How about I do you?”
“Not even in your wildest dreams.” I pause. “Do you want to do me? Is that a kink?”
“No.” She clears her throat. “I actually like not having to think about at least one thing in my life.”
“You just lie there and be a princess.”
She glares up. “I’m not a princess.”
“You’re the definition of a princess.”
“No, I’m not.”
“We’ll agree to disagree.”
“I’m just saying—”
I place a finger on her lips, then realizing we’re in a semi-public place, I let my hand fall to my side.
Fuck. If someone were passing by, they would get ideas.
I need to get better control of my need to touch her at all times.
“Don’t worry your pretty head about that, and start thinking about that pet name.”
“I already found one.”
I straighten. “Oh?”
“Yeah. It’s Luchik.”
“Another variation of the sun. Are you even putting in any effort?”
“I actually did, and this one is different. It’s sunray. As in, the only beam of light in the darkness.”
“Am I your beam of light in the darkness? Really?”
“I don’t know. Am I your sun?”
You are.
I almost say that out loud.
The worst part is that I believe it.
Fucking fuck. I’m truly and irrevocably fucking doomed.
19
SASHA
Today is Kirill’s birthday.
I know because Karina has roped me into planning a surprise party of sorts. My role is to get him back to the house at a reasonable hour so he can at least eat a slice of the cake she ordered a month ago.
And while that sounds easy in theory, it’s harder in reality. Kirill usually spends most of the night at the club and only goes back during the ungodly hours of early morning.
The weirdest thing about his birthday is that it happens to be one day before mine. Just one. Well, separated by eight years, but anyway.
He doesn’t know that, though, because my birthday in the army files is fake. Last year, he asked me if I wanted a day off for my birthday, and I told him that one wasn’t real. He asked for my actual one, but I said that I don’t celebrate anyway, so there’s no need.
And I don’t. At least, not since my family passed away.
The thought of celebrating without a party, presents, dinner, and games with my cousins makes me sick to my stomach. It’s better to think that chapter of my life is long over.
The new me doesn’t have a birthday. Just duties.
However, like Karina, I want to make Kirill’s birthday special. He’s always plotting or executing a plan and barely has any time for himself or his family—not that he holds that in high regard. He only cares about Karina’s well-being.
The problem is getting him home. Viktor refuses to cooperate and has only been following whatever Kirill asks him to do. Yuri said he has no power to convince Kirill of anything, and Maksim was like, “He doesn’t like celebrating his birthday. Does he even know it exists?”
I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t, considering the strained relationship he shares with his mother. His sister said that she always wanted to offer him different memories about the day he was born but didn’t know how—which is where I come in.
Ever since the kidnapping episode by the Albanians two months ago, things have evolved between us.
Countless events have followed, mainly a war with the Irish and a lot of drama in Rai’s life, but eventually, the organization reached a careful downtime.
It can be seen on the men’s bored faces, and their restlessness can be felt in the air. And I don’t mean only our men, but every soldier in the brotherhood.
These men are so used to violence and war that peace makes them uncomfortable. I’m somewhat the same, and the only reason I haven’t been getting antsy is because Kirill tires me every night. He either ties me up, straps the leather around my throat, or bends me over the nearest surface so he can fuck me like an animal.
It's precisely that animal side of him that’s been giving me the stimulation I need. And I think he needs it, too, because our nightly endeavors have become more intense with each passing day. Sometimes, I think I’ll die in the throes of pleasure. Other times, I keep up with him stroke for stroke until we’re both spent and satiated.
But most of the time, there’s this twisted need for more and more. I crave his savagery, how he dominates, bites, and bruises my skin. He doesn’t hold back or treat me like a delicate flower. Far from it.
Kirill gives me exactly what I need, and in return, he takes what he wants.
I’ve started to hate daytime because I can’t touch him. At least, not when everyone is around.
As much as I hate to admit it, Kirill has better control than I do. While I often catch myself staring at him and recalling whatever fuckery he did to my body the night before, he usually doesn’t pay me attention and acts professionally.