Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 3
MILA
This bedroom already has one up on my bedroom at home; there’s a lock on the door. I turn it and go into the en suite, taking off my silly outfit and jumping into the waterfall shower. I only changed into the skirt because I knew I had no choice. As I put it on, part of me wondered if Mikhail would find me more or less attractive. The meeting with Dimitri was awk-waaaaaaard. We barely even said hello. I don’t know how I’m supposed to marry him.
In the shower, I try not to think about Mikhail. I’m a ones-and-zeroes girl. Many of my favorite books contain androids and robot people who can turn themselves on and off and experience any emotion they want. They have complete control, but I don’t.
Ones and zeroes seem meaningless as the water drips down over my body, clinging to my nipples, teasing my sex, tickling my clit. Closing my eyes, I let the water wash over me, imagining turning around to find Mikhail standing there. I never expected to feel anything for my future husband, let alone his brother! From the moment I met Mikhail, I felt something I never in a million years expected to feel: desire and longing. My breath hitches as I imagine him walking into the shower, not even caring that he’s wearing clothes. He’s so obsessed he can’t stop himself.
I move my hand down my body, over my breasts, toward my sex. When was the last time I touched myself? I can’t even remember. It’s been years. Then, the experimenting stopped. The self-pleasure just seemed pointless.
Yet now, when I push my hand down on my clit, I feel a jolt of pure heat move through me. I squeeze my legs together, partially trapping my hand like I can tell myself I’m not really doing this. It’s just happening. It’s just the pleasure taking over. I massage my clit faster, with more pressure, the warm water feeling like it gets hotter, boiling me up.
In my mind, Mikhail is grinding his body against mine. He has me pushed against the shower wall, leaning down and staring at me like I’m the only person who exists. To him, I’m the only person who matters. The next time I rub my clit, I imagine it’s his hand instead, his confident stroke claiming and owning my lips, my sex, all of me.
Then he’s slipping inside of me. I gasp, pushing against my clit with two fingers. In my fantasy, Mikhail is fucking my pussy with his fingers, making a deep groaning noise the more I moan and the more I shift against him. I don’t know how to make the elder Sokolov want me, but I’m making Mikhail mine in this tantalizing fantasy. I’m making him obsessed, passionate, and hungry.
I almost let out a loud moan when the orgasm suddenly hits me. It’s been so long; the feeling is entirely new. It was never this intense before because I didn’t have Mikhail to conjure up in my mind. My legs tremble, and I lean against the shower wall, my pussy aching, pulsing. The orgasm continues to rock through me, and then I imagine Mikhail laying me on my back, leaning over, naked, bringing his cock to my entrance.
The orgasm drifts away, leaving me to peel my eyes open and remind myself that, even if I could do any of this with Mikhail—if he somehow wanted me—I wouldn’t be the woman I am in the fantasy. I can never let this be more than a fantasy when my brother’s life is on the line.
I clean myself up, trying not to think about what I just did as I return to the bedroom. After spending some time working on my programming, my cell phone rings. It’s Dad. I almost think about not answering it, but what about Drake?
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound like a daughter who doesn’t completely despise her father.
“Hey,” he repeats, with a low, mean laugh. “How are things with Dimitri?”
“We just met,” I reply, still feeling the aftershocks of the orgasm, seeing Mikhail watch me from my thoughts.
“And?” Dad says impatiently.
“I think it went well.”
“You think?” Dad snaps. “You need to make a good impression. If you don’t marry him by the fall …”
He makes one of his threats. I don’t even let myself listen. I hear it, and it’s ugly and gross, but I don’t let it punch through my shield into my thoughts. Then he says, “Don’t forget about sweet little Anatoly.” After a pause, Dad continues, “Go to Dimitri tonight, Mila. Make him want you.”
He hangs up the phone, leaving me to lean back in the computer chair. I wish I could type out a few lines of code and correct a few things about myself, chief among them being how my heart always goes wild. It’s like being in a prison of anxiety.