Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
His hands roam my body, touching me everywhere. I love the feel of his hands on my body. I know he could hurt me at any moment, but he doesn’t. His touch is gentle. Sweet. Kind. Tender. I’m not used to it, and each part of my body feels so sensitive. I love the feel of his cock, the touch of his hands, his lips, the hardness and yet, so soft.
I’m so close and then he suddenly pulled up, grabbed my hips, and started to pound inside me, driving deeper than before. I thrust up to meet every single thrust, not wanting it to stop.
“You’re all mine, Charlotte, all mine, and don’t you fucking forget it.”
As I come, I feel the hard kick of his cock as he fills me. I’m not an idiot. We’ve not used any condoms so I know there’s a risk of me getting pregnant. The thought of being a mother terrified me, but I love feeling my husband’s naked cock within me.
I know Ive was forced to come to our honeymoon, but I’m going to cherish every single moment we’re here together.
****
The Beast
“I don’t appreciate you sneaking into my home,” I said.
Ivan Volkov sat in my favorite chair. This was one of the many places I owned. It was a small apartment, in a busy city, easy to blend in.
I held my keys, ready to fight if necessary.
“I didn’t sneak,” Ivan said. “I walked in the front door.”
Which was locked. I hadn’t been to this apartment in a couple of months. I’d just gotten back from a job, and I was tired.
“You weren’t invited.”
Ivan tutted. “Considering I helped with the final piece of your puzzle, you’d think you would be a little grateful.”
This made my jaw clench. I should have known Volkov had a hand in finally handing me the one man I’d been hunting for, for nearly five years. He’s even drinking the bottle of scotch I’d saved for the occasion. Anger rushed up my spine.
I always had a problem with my anger, even as a kid. It was what caused me a lot of issues over the years. Getting it under control took a lot of skill. A lot of people had died for invoking my wrath. If I killed Ivan, I knew any kind of happiness and quiet would be impossible.
The rumor of his death had circulated some time ago, a couple of months, a year, I can’t remember, but I knew it had caused some difficulty for him. The man was smarter than anyone I’d ever known. Ivan faked his death for many reasons, and I’m pretty sure only he would know them all.
“That’s my whiskey,” I said.
Ivan nodded. “Ah, yes, for the moment when you ended the man who took your mother and three sisters away from you?”
I’m not surprised he knew that.
I glared at the man, who I had a deep respect for. Ivan didn’t have everything handed to him on the plate. I knew there was a lot of fact and fiction circulating about this man. The one truth I knew was that he’d been tossed aside by his own father, left to die in the gutter. Many believe he had a thing for strays, and those that were not wanted.
What I did know was the gutter had created a monster. A monster who always seemed to wear a smile, and expensive Italian-made suits. Always pristine. I don’t think I’d ever caught sight of Ivan looking anything else but the best.
Even now, sitting in my apartment. I had three guns, one inside my jacket, one at my back, and another in my ankle, as well as two knives. I could kill him easily.
“You could try it, if you want,” Ivan said. “I’m not armed.” He took a sip of his drink. “This is good whiskey.”
“That’s my whiskey and you haven’t been invited.”
“It goes without saying that I’m invited to drink your whiskey, seeing as I’m the reason you get to crack this bottle open, don’t you think?”
Ivan was a sneaky bastard. I don’t know how he did it, how he’s able to know everything about everyone. There’s no point in fighting this. Ivan was the reason I was finally able to terminate the man I’d been hunting.
Letting my bag ease to the floor, I take a step toward him, and he holds out a glass for me filled with my whiskey. I take it from him.
Sitting in the chair opposite, I stare at him. My apartment is dark and I’ve not bothered to put a light on yet. I don’t need the light. I hate anything that brightens a room if it’s not natural.
“Do you want to tell me why you’re in my place?” I asked.
“All in good time. First, you must taste your victory.”
I doubt this is poisoned. Poison is not Ivan’s style, or at least it didn’t use to be. People change over the years. They adapt. They grow.