Torrid Read online Nikki Sloane (Sordid #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, BDSM, Crime, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Sordid Series by Nikki Sloane
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
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“Why’s that?”

“Because,” she turned to face me, and her icy blue eyes cut me to shreds, “I’m sure nothing I say will stop it from happening.”

Her judgement was bullshit. I hadn’t even done anything to her yet, other than put my hand on her throat in the car, and her accusing glare made fire burn inside my head. First off, it was just sex. If she was willing, I’d do my best to make sure she enjoyed it. Second, I wasn’t interested in trying to fuck a weeping girl while she begged me to stop. My dick threatened to crawl inside my body at the thought.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snarled. “I could text a girl right now and have her here sucking my cock in under twenty minutes.”

She didn’t flinch at the vulgarity. Oksana lifted her chin. “Then, why don’t you?”

Instead of rising to her challenge, I grinned and filled my voice with mock excitement. “Oh, you wanna watch, huh? Maybe you want to take turns sharing my dick?”

Her face somehow went paler.

Since she was basically my captive, I could do whatever, including being honest. “What I want to do to you isn’t about sex.” I stepped close so we were chest to chest, and I watched alarm flare in her eyes. My tone was absolute. “It’s about power.”

3

Oksana

I stared up into Vasilije’s black eyes and shuddered. Was he saying he wasn’t going to fuck me? I scrambled to find a new angle. No matter how much planning I’d done, so much of tonight had been unknown, and I hadn’t expected to end up here, even though Aleksandar had assured me I would. Vasilije was greedy. He’d go for me as soon as someone else showed interest.

He looked different in person. The angles of his face were sharper, his shoulders broader, and his eyes deeper. I’d studied pictures of him, but in real life he was so much . . . more. More attractive, more imposing, and way more dangerous. I’d barely been able to breathe during the car ride here, and it had little to do with his hand clenched on my throat.

Once he’d staked his claim on me, my panic became less fake.

“Power?” I repeated breathlessly.

His irises were made of the blackest ice possible, and although he smiled and flashed his dimples, the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. His hand gripped my waist, and when I instinctively tried to retreat, his fingers dug in.

“I don’t like to be touched,” I said and shut my eyes tightly. I hadn’t wanted to reveal it, at least not yet, but there was no avoiding it now. I’d wanted to hold onto my cards for as long as possible. If he hadn’t picked me tonight, I was to play the role of Aleksandar’s girlfriend, but my ridiculous plan had worked.

What the hell was I going to do now? My next step was to get close to Vasilije Markovic, and I hadn’t the faintest clue how. Despite what I’d told my father, seduction wasn’t something I believed I could do.

My anxiety was crippling, and his icy cold hand on my waist was debilitating. I drew in a stuttering breath and forced my eyes open. He studied me like I was both grotesque and fascinating in the same instant.

I’d told Vasilije I didn’t like to be touched, so his evil smile widened and his hand slid upward, his palm stopping on my ribcage. His thumb brushed the underside of my breast through my thin sweater and bra, and my skin felt too tight. It was stretched and pulled in a million directions.

“You don’t like to be touched?” His deep voice was throaty. “Why?”

I couldn’t tell him I’d murdered the last man to put his hands on me. “I like my own space,” I said, rushing the words out.

If the devil took human form, he’d look exactly like Vasilije did now. Violently sexual and dangerously persuasive.

“Yeah? Get over it.” He glanced around before settling back on me. “All of this space is mine.”

The cold hand drew away, and my body felt hot in the aftermath.

He toed off his boots and carried my composition notebook under his arm as he went down the hall. He expected me to follow, so I did. It was getting hard to think about anything other than his plans for me, but I forced myself to focus. All of my work was laid down on those pages. They might as well have been written in my blood.

I’d been told Vasilije was nothing more than a good-looking thug. Dimitrije Markovic had two sons, and Luka was the smart one. But my information had been wrong, or at least incomplete. Vasilije might have flunked out of college, but I shouldn’t underestimate him. He’d figured out the drop-off tonight was a setup, he didn’t trust me, and worst of all, he knew the notebook was of value to me. He was far from the dumb mobster-wannabe I’d hoped for.


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