Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I expect him to leave. I hope he doesn’t. But instead, he sits on the edge of the bed and grabs one of the books from my nightstand. He flips it open, his expression softening into amusement as he skims the first page.
He starts reading aloud, his deep voice with a hint of an accent wrapping around the words in a way that makes my cheeks flush.
“You’re mine. Your orgasms belong to me. Your pussy belongs to me. Your body is mine to do with as I will. If I want to shave you, I will. If I want to spank your pussy red, I will. If I want to cuff you to my bed to wait for me, I will.”
“This is what you read?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Don’t judge me,” I mutter, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.
“Judge you? Never, now that I know how to reap the benefits.”
When he reads, his tone is teasing, dipping low on the dirtiest lines, but there’s something warm and almost indulgent about the way he stays. He’s still there when my eyes drift closed, my body sinking into the bed as exhaustion takes over.
When I wake, the bed is empty, the covers pulled neatly around me. The air feels colder without him, and the quiet ache in my chest surprises me.
I don’t like it.
Reaching for my phone, I find it plugged in on the nightstand. I close my eyes against a rush of emotion, when I see a new message waiting for me. It’s a video. My breath catches as I open it.
The screen fills with darkness at first, and for a moment, I think it’s just audio—the faint sound of his breathing, steady and deliberate. Then the image sharpens. A blindfold rests in his hand, the silky fabric slipping between his fingers in slow, deliberate movements.
His face emerges next, masked, shadowed, and devastatingly calm. His eyes burn into the camera, filled with that lethal energy that always leaves me trembling. His voice is low and dangerous, a private caress meant only for me.
“Careful what you wish for, little queen,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening around the blindfold before the screen cuts to black.
My breath catches, the silence that follows almost deafening. My heart pounds in my chest, my body warm with the memory of his touch and the promise of more. The video leaves me shaking, craving him in ways I don’t fully understand.
Because it’s not just the words or the way he looks at me like I’m his—it’s the certainty in his voice that thrills and terrifies me.
I don’t know if there’s any going back from this.
Chapter 13
RODION
I fucking hate being apart from her. I’ve never been obsessed with a woman before, but everything about her, fucking everything, calls to me like the call of the siren. I only hope I don’t crash myself on the fucking shore.
The phone buzzes in my hand. Again.
Rafail.
I should answer. He hates waiting, but my mind is stuck somewhere else. My thumb hovers over the video feed from her apartment. I ignore Rafail and click the button, an addict unable to stop himself from his next hit.
She’s asleep, her breathing steady, her hair spilling across the pillow like some kind of goddamn halo. My shoulders tense as I check the biometrics again—heart rate, body temp—all steady. She’s fine. Perfect.
And yet, something gnaws at me. Maybe it’s because she didn’t call back. Or because her name hasn’t appeared in my notifications, no flirty comment under my video. Nothing.
I should know better than to post the fucking thirst traps, but I can’t help it. It’s the wildest of bait for the wildest of women, and I love the way she watches them the second I post them. I scroll through the comments on the latest upload directed at Ember.
I really shouldn’t have opened this. I have work to do and now I’ve forgotten my own name. Why is this man so hot???
Sir, I will personally commit crimes for you.
This energy could ruin my day, and I’d thank you for it.
I scroll past, searching, searching… nothing from her.
I’m used to being in control. Planning. Acting. But with her, it’s like every fucking second of silence feels like a failure.
The phone buzzes again, and this time, Rafail’s name is flashing like a warning. He’s gonna kill me.
“What?” I snap as I answer.
“What?” he echoes, sharp and biting. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I’ve been waiting for ten minutes.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, dragging my focus back. I don’t talk to him this way and can’t start now.
“I’m here. What do you want?”
“Watch it. You tell me. Are you bringing someone to this gala or not?” His tone is clipped, but there’s a thread of something deeper—curiosity, maybe. Amusement.