Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I keep thinking about him.
Valentin coming into Merrick’s studio. Valentin taking off his clothes.
Valentin’s fingers in my mouth as he fucks me into by far the best orgasm of my puny existence.
Valentin’s lazy, beautiful body sprawled on the floor, and the way he watched me with such confidence.
Like in his mind, there was no possibility that I might not do what he wants.
Which actually makes me even more determined to tell him to fuck off.
Midway through my shift, I shoot Merrick a text.
Karine: You’re an asshole, by the way. Don’t talk to me again.
Merrick: Oh, come on, darling, you would’ve done the same in my position.
Karine: I wouldn’t have. I thought we were friends.
Merrick: We are! But I’m also friends with Valentin, and he pays much better than you do. Please, don’t be angry with me. Honestly, from what he told me, it seems you two had a productive conversation.
I stare at the phone, mouth gaping. Did Valentin actually tell Merrick about the sex? But no, he wouldn’t do that.
Karine: Just don’t come around for a while, okay? I’m pretty pissed.
Merrick: All right, darling, I’ll respect that, but don’t stay angry for long.
It isn’t Merrick’s fault I ended up banging Valentin on his studio floor, but I still blame him anyway. He set me up, and that’s a pretty huge violation of our trust. Merrick knew damn well I was sitting up there in nothing but a silk robe, and maybe he didn’t realize I’d have it basically hanging open and sunning myself, but still. He knew, and he sent a hungry lion up to feast on me.
It was a nice feast. But still, screw him.
It’s a slow night at Stove and Smoke. I have a lot of time to stew. I took Plan B earlier, which should handle any potential unwanted pregnancies, and I wonder if Valentin’s the kind of guy that goes around having random unprotected sex with strangers.
I should probably ask him about that. But that would involve having a conversation.
God, what a stupid mess. I’m really kicking myself as I pour drinks and I just barely get through the night.
I head home after closing, around two-thirty in the morning, and take a long, hot shower. Midway through, I start thinking about Valentin, which leads me to thinking about his hands on my body, his mouth on my pussy, the way he wanted me to say no.
And yeah, I touch myself.
I’m not proud of it, but here we are.
When I’m finished, I head into my room. It’s nearly three by now. I count out my tips, yawning, and realize I have just enough to pay the electricity bill. We’re already overdue but I’m pretty sure they’re going to shut us down in a few days, so I decide to log in before going to sleep.
I stare at the account balance, but it doesn’t make sense.
We’re overpaid by five thousand dollars.
This has to be some error. But when I click into the payments tab, it looks like there’s a credit card on file I’ve never seen before.
I’m about to panic, afraid Mom’s opening new lines again, when I notice the name attached to the card.
Valentin Zaitsev.
No, this can’t be happening. This can’t be right.
But it’s real.
Valentin logged into my account, added his card, and put down a massive payment on file, basically covering our bill for the foreseeable future.
Relief hits me so hard it’s physical. I curl up and have to fight back a sob. I haven’t been able to explain to anyone how bad this debt stuff has been, but it’s like every day I wake up expecting my life to be over.
There’s a knife to my throat every waking hour.
And now, one tiny bit of that stress has been completely taken away.
It’s a shock to the system. I’m so mad at him for doing something like this, but I can’t help myself. The sheer release I feel knowing that no matter what happens, at least we’ll have electricity for a while is like I was buried under the earth and someone just dug a hole and let me out. I’m lighter; I’m freer.
It takes a little while to come back to myself.
And when I do, anger takes over.
Because I know what this is. Valentin wants me to marry him for whatever crazy reason, and if fucking me isn’t enough, now he’s going to throw money at me.
He thinks he can buy me.
But the thing is, I grew up in a house that treated me like I had no value beyond my potential childbearing hips.
Mom and Dad were traditional people. While my older brother was doted on, given everything, encouraged to go to college, I was told that I could graduate high school, but beyond that, I was expected to find and marry a nice Armenian boy.
That was the extent of my future.