Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Andrei squeezed his eyes shut, his blond hair falling across his forehead like it was trying to wipe away the tears of rage. “Both of you. Go to your rooms.”
Santino laughed, then stopped when I elbowed him in the ribs and grabbed his hand, tugging him up the stairs. I ran so fast that I nearly tripped. I don’t know why, but I ran into his room, maybe for protection from everyone downstairs.
I was ready to bolt it shut when he slowly clicked the lock, crossed his arms, and said, “If you really came to play me like that…” His nostrils flared. “…are you really willing to give it all you’ve got?”
“Excuse me?”
He drew his shirt over his head, not what I had in my panicked mind. He tossed it to the carpet and shoved down his jeans, revealing pure nakedness and a very erect cock. He put his hands on his hips. “Prove it. Prove you want me.”
“I, um…” I started backing away. The back of my knees brushed his bed. “I don’t think that’s the best idea right now with every single one of them down there!”
His smirk really did inflict internal mental violence, making me want to scream at him. “Oh, I think it’s a great idea. Prove to them you want me and nobody else. Maybe my death really will be at your hands, so make it good before I go down there and get shot—again.”
“The first time was a pillow,” I argued.
“The first time was nearly my dick. And you”—he shoved me back against the bed, forcing me to sit—“are the reason that I’m in this shit.”
Guilt became my pulse as it pounded harder and harder. I did this to him. I just didn’t want to marry a stranger, and now I had to prove to him that I wanted him.
He was calling my bluff.
And I wasn’t going to back down.
Maybe this would be lesson number two for the day. Never back down, never give in. Show no mercy, show no weakness.
“I protect you.” He grabbed me by the throat—not too hard, but still not soft—and shoved me against the mattress. “I nearly died for you.” He straddled me completely naked while I was still in my clothes. “I fuck you. I train you.” He glared. “And what do I have to show for it other than getting a gun pointed at my head and a spoiled, terrified little girl who would do anything, even putting me at risk—just to be set free?”
I frowned. “What?”
He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Free from it all, from the fear, from the chaos—from the fucking jail cell you still refuse to leave.”
I trembled beneath him as he gripped my thighs and easily spread them apart. “I held you. I sang to you. I liked you in each moment you fought, so don’t stop fighting now. What do you want?”
A tear slid down my cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed to look at him.
“What. Do. You. Want?” He gripped my neck harder. “Me? A passport? Love? A family? To be free from your demons. What do you want?”
He let me breathe, let me stay still, let me keep my eyes closed as I thought it through.
I was still in that prison.
Still watching my brother get murdered.
Still facing death.
I was in a cycle that wouldn’t quit.
And then the door opened.
And he was there.
My devil in shining armor—Santino.
What did I want?
“My twin brother back,” I whispered.
“Impossible, try again.” His lips coaxed the bottom of my ear and slid down to my neck.
How was it possible for him to completely understand me? In a matter of minutes after getting shot.
I sighed. “I want to be free.”
“Free yourself, then,” he said. “Nobody can make you do anything you don’t want to do, and sometimes we find freedom where we least expect it.”
Another hot, burning tear slid down my cheek onto his pillowcase. I finally relaxed. I focused on the figure in my head.
I focused on him and snapped open my eyes. “Right now, I just want you.”
His mouth crashed against mine. I sank into that mattress; I sank into the deep dark waters of Santino Sinacore.
And for the first time since being in that prison.
I was finally free.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“If you think your boss is stupid, remember: you wouldn’t have a job if he was any smarter.” —John Gotti
Santino
Death never tasted so good—or felt so much like impending doom as our lips slid against one another, making smacking noises in the deafening silence of the room.
Each time my tongue caressed hers, I pushed her harder against the mattress, she clambered against me, her nails digging in like she needed to hold on to something. A loud moan escaped between my clenched teeth when I pulled back; her hands—both of them, were stroking my dick up and down, up and down, between our bodies.