Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“I have explained this to you.”
Her chin lifts. “Not in a way I can accept.”
This is not ideal timing for this discussion. Two minutes remain until five o’clock and I’m already fully erect, my bonds beginning to shred in anticipation of my need breaking loose. The way she’s sitting on the lawn is giving me a peek at her smooth, taunting cunt, and it’s taking everything inside me not to pounce on her. “I must bring you inside now, Anya.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “Why?” The confusion flees from her expression. “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.” Feeling ready to snap, I crook my index finger at her. “Come. I will strip you on the way.”
A stubborn light goes on in her eyes. “No.”
Inside my pants, hot cum leaks from the tip of my dick, dripping down my thigh. “I can wait no longer to fuck you, Anya.” I don’t realize I’ve moved closer until she’s covered in my shadow and I’m looming above her where she reclines on the lawn. “I’ve controlled myself for five years and it has taken a toll.”
With each shallow breath, her tits swell further over the neckline of her tank top. “You don’t get to decide everything. Where I live. How I spend my future.” She lets her thighs fall open. “Where you take me the first time.”
I drop to my knees with a bellow, fists shaking at my sides. “I was to breed you in our marriage bed, angel.”
She falls back on the grass and lifts her skirt, baring her drenched panties to me. “Oops.”
Chapter Seven
Anya
So this is what power feels like.
Did I really have it all this time without knowing?
Well, I’m going to wield it now, so look out. A lot of this empowerment is seeing the evidence of how much Sasha needs me. My Russian is a man of cold control, but right now, he’s the furthest thing from his usual self. The gray of his eyes is blocked out by the black of his dilated pupils, the veins in his neck seem to pulse. He’s whipping off his coat and shirt while staring me down like a lion over a lamb…and maybe I should be afraid. There is dangerous intention written all over him and it’s unfamiliar.
But I know he would never, ever hurt me. This man who would care for me through the rockiest periods of my life. This man who would build me a house because of my love for a book would die before harming me. He’s my man.
Yes, he’s mine. We have battle lines to draw, though. I’m drawing one right now, by letting him know he doesn’t dictate every single thing we do together. Next I’ll worry about college — oh, I’m going — but no way am I going to deprive us of finally coming together. Not when it has been so long in the making. And God, I’m shaking with the need to be possessed by Sasha.
It’s why I work my tank top over my head and unhook my bra clasp, lust closing in from all sides at the shudder of his huge chest, the Russian curses on his lips. “You have learned a valuable lesson this day, Anya. No? You and that little unfucked cunt are Uncle Sasha’s obsession. You aim to exploit me now by using it to get your way? Is that right?”
“M - maybe once in a while — ”
With a half laugh, half growl, he sheds his shirt, revealing a vicious wall of honed muscle and inked artwork and —
“Oh.” I suck in a breath and reach out to trace his marked skin. Skin I only glimpsed once through the foggy shower glass. “My name. It’s everywhere. All over you.”
“Da.” Reaching down between us, he unzips his pants and lets out his heavy erection with a groan. Taking the flesh in his right hand, he tilts his hips, letting me see the script low on his stomach. Right above the root of his manhood, my name is scripted in bold, black ink. “You own it all, angel. I’d rip out my heart and tattoo you there, if I could.”
“Sasha…” My own beating organ lodges in my throat, heat pushing behind my eyes. “But when we were in the library, you didn’t say you loved me back.”
He drops down above me on all fours. A panther prowling above his claim. “Ah, Anya. I’ve been telling you every day for years. With everything I do, I tell you I love you.” His mouth descends to feast on one breast, then the other, his lips and tongue made of magic. “Did you think I would take you to a Justin Bieber concert if I didn’t worship and love you with my very soul? Angel, my fucking ears were bleeding.”
I send a giggle up toward the sky. “I — ”