Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Anissa nearly chokes on her tea. My aunt glares at Zoya and opens her mouth to snap back, when Anissa jumps in. No one will be rude to Zoya on her watch. “Excuse me,” she says in her clear, confident voice. “Thank you for coming in the way you were asked. My husband has rules for security purposes.” She smiles sweetly. “Please don’t make that mistake again. I’d hate to see you shot by accident.”
My aunt opens her mouth to protest, but Anissa is not done. “It’s very important that you do what my husband says. He is the one in charge here.”
My uncle stares but nods.
By the time we get to the car, I’m determined to reward her. She snuggles onto my lap.
“You were a good girl in there. Defending your husband.”
She gives me a haughty shrug with her chin in the air. “That bitch will not put down your family and disrespect you. No way.”
I smile into her hair, breathing her in. “Good girl,” I whisper against the shell of her ear. “I think you’ve earned a reward.”
“Ooooh,” she hums.
“Spread your legs, baby doll. Now.”
She doesn’t need to be asked twice. I slide my hand up her calf, her dress pooling around my wrist, and find the damp warmth of her pussy. “Jesus, woman. You’re so fucking wet.”
“You’ve been edging me for years,” she moans. “My god, Rafail, please.”
“Do you want my mouth or my hands?” I croon in her ear, stroking her swollen clit.
Her voice nearly breaks on a sob. “Yes.”
The interior of the car’s filled with her pleas and my dark chuckle as I guide her down onto the leather seat, my grip firm yet measured as I spread her thighs and position her right where I want her. It feels intimate in the small enclosure.
I lean down, my breath hot against her skin, teasing her before I press my mouth to her throbbing, wet core. My tongue slides over her slick, hot folds, and she whimpers into a deep sigh of contentment. “Please, Rafail. I’ll do anything you tell me. I’m sorry I didn’t beg before. I want you. I want your mouth on me. I want to come on your tongue. Please, please.”
I growl in approval and slide my fingers in her core. She shivers and stabs her fingers into my hair. I hold her thighs as I taste her with deliberate, measured strokes. Every flick of my tongue draws a soft moan from her; the wet sound of my tongue working her to climax mingles with the hum of the engine outside.
She anchors onto my hair as if to hold her in place while my tongue circles and delves deeper, relentless, demanding. “Who owns this cunt?” I growl at her.
“You. You, Rafail,” she says easily, choking on a half sob. “You own all of me. All of me. I’m yours.”
I stroke her again and plunge into her center as her body arches toward me.
“Who’s the one you yield to, little swan?”
“You. You, Rafail. Always.”
“Good girl.” I reward her with another swipe of my tongue and another until she moans. “Come on my mouth, angel. Come for me,” I breathe out before I stroke her clit again. Her head falls back, and she screams, her body arching into mine.
The walls of her pussy tighten around my fingers as the first wave of pleasure echoes through her body. I hold her hips down forcefully so she doesn’t fly away as she screams my name and comes so hard she’s nearly hoarse. My cock throbs at the sound of her moans, at the way she comes with abandon as though the entire world outside of this car ceases to exist, and all that matters is getting lost in blissful pleasure.
I give her one parting lick of my tongue, and her hips jerk. She whimpers, her eyes closed. I drag her onto my lap as she pants, spent and exhausted.
“Was it worth it?” I say with a dark chuckle.
“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” she replies in a hoarse whisper. “But yes.”
I’m still chuckling when my phone rings. “Goddamn it, they have a knack for interrupting at the worst times.”
“To be fair,” she says in a breathy voice, her eyes still closed. “We have a lot of times we, um… don’t like to be interrupted. Maybe this is why they talk so much at mealtimes.”
True.
I look down at the phone. It’s Semyon.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve got strange news, brother.”
“Yeah?” She sighs against my chest, oblivious to the call.
“Someone’s said the Romanovs are in town.”
Why does that make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end? I hardly know them. We’re not enemies, but we’re definitely not friends. I have nothing to fear from them.
“Yeah?”
“Something’s fishy,” Semyon says. “There’s talk of them fleeing from the cartel, but the association’s complicated. Some of their family have married into the cartel, but it appears they made enemies. That isn’t the complicated part though.”