Wicked Intentions (The Bobrov Bratva #1) Read Online Shandi Boyes

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: The Bobrov Bratva Series by Shandi Boyes
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Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
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I try to keep my tone neutral while replying, “I don’t know.”

It is virtually impossible not to squirm when Ghost grumbles out, “Don’t lie to me, маленький ягненок! Why did you pick this boat?”

My heart speaks before my head can talk it out of it. “Because I want to live.”

Ghost angles his head to the side while he assesses me in silence.

It is a painfully long thirty seconds that doubles the tension brimming between us.

“So you lied to me?”

My breaths come out in a quiver as I shake my head. “No.”

I breathe in quick, rapid pants when Ghost moves for me so fast, I’m pinned against the wall next to his open office door and his brooding body in two heart-thrashing seconds. “You lied to me, маленький ягненок.”

I try to shake my head again, but his grip on my face is too firm. His thumb and forefinger are gripping my chin, and his other three fingers are wrapped around my throat. His hold is rough and unhinged, very much like him.

“You lied to me,” he repeats again, his voice not as hot as the surge of electricity zapping through my veins from his closeness. “Because you said you weren’t made for this life.” As his eyes bounce between mine, their dilation easily able to expose that they’re the clearest they’ve ever been, he murmurs, “That’s why I let you go. That’s why I let you believe he had killed me.” His breath tickles my face when he whispers, “That’s why I stepped back when you and Lera finally made it out unscathed.” His voice is husky and pained. “That’s why I walked away when you begged Lucianna to tell you who decorated your penthouse apartment.”

It is ludicrous for me to be jealous that he knows the realtor’s name after disclosing he’s been watching me for over a year, but it can’t be helped. “And that’s why I’m following you around the globe instead of smearing my cum over every inch of you in each city we visit.” His Russian accent is the thickest I’ve heard when he murmurs, “You said this life was not for you, so I let you go.”

The aggression he is showing should have me running for the hills, but my clammy palms, racing pulse, and the insane thud between my legs has me doing the opposite.

“I lied,” I reply before stepping over the threshold that will return me to a captive. “So now you have no choice but to punish me.”

BONUS EPILOGUE

GHOST

Two Years Later…

“Fuck, маленький ягненок.” I tightened my grip on Katie’s long, glossy tresses before slowing her pace. “You’re going to suck the marrow straight out of my fucking bones.”

She glosses up her lips with the pre-cum dripping out of my cock’s head before she flashes me a quick smirk, then she gets back down to business.

We fucked like rabbits the first month she returned. We had a lot of time to make up for, but even now, two years later, I still act as if she owes me eighteen months of blow jobs since I went without physical stimulation for so long.

I force Katie onto her knees as often as possible, my urge to have her beneath me, above me, and all fucking over me never waning.

Three years ago, I resigned myself to the fact I had gotten them out, that I achieved what I had set out to do four years earlier, then she waltzed back into my life with a gleam in her eyes that almost knocked me on my ass for the third time.

We didn’t make it out of my office before I claimed her as mine, and Katie never made it back to the cruise ship.

Her sister thinks she met a distribution clerk on the first half of her tour. She has no clue she’s spent the last twenty-four months messing the sheets with the real heir of the Bobrov Bratva. The only person who knows that is Blaire.

Her ties with the Bratva are helping Katie return the Petrov name to the glory it once had—minus trafficked women, of course.

We won’t go down that route again. I’ll take a hit in capital before I ever contemplate if someone else’s Katie is trapped in an orlop, living off scraps.

“Fuck, маленький ягненок. Don’t stop.” I roll my hips, the urge to come pulling my balls in close to my body. “I’m going to drench your throat with my seed before drenching your cunt.” My painful grip on her hair doubles the dilation of her eyes. “Flatten your tongue like a good little slut. I want as much of my cock inside your mouth as I can fit before you swallow my cum.”

I stuff my cock in deep, a growl rumbling up my throat when she takes me to the very back. Then I give her what she’s desperate for three to four times a day. I blow down her throat with an unearthly groan, my thighs clenching when she stares up at me while swallowing me down.


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