Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Stealing his chance to reply, he hits me with a frisky wink before entering the establishment I left only seconds ago.
I’d be panicked he’s here to finish what I refused to let Matvei start if I didn’t spot Jax and Tyler slipping into a cab a couple of spots up from the car Matvei is standing next to.
When Matvei’s head swivels in the direction I’m looking, I ask, “Where are we going?”
He returns his eyes to me before replying, “Get in and find out.”
With Tyler in the clear, I could backtrack on my offer, but I’ll forever choose curiosity over safety. What’s the point of living if I don’t?
“Thank you,” I murmur in appreciation to the valet when he assists me into my seat without touching me.
After waiting for me to buckle my seat belt, Matvei pushes the start button, then pulls away from the curb.
As he weaves us through the traffic surrounding the Kronstadt nightlife district, I drink in the interior of his vehicle. It is mannish with dark lines and black leather inclusions like his last mode of transport, but the polished wood trim and embossed seats reek of cheap aftershave. There are several strands of gray hairs on the headrest that’s more of a neck insert for Matvei, since he stands taller than the average person.
The scent that wafted up when he dragged his finger across my collarbone was woodsy and expensive. It doesn’t match the nasty knockoff aftershave they sell in pharmacies.
Curious, I open the glove compartment. Matvei wets his lips when a six-string of condoms is the first thing I pull out, but he remains quiet.
Lip gloss, a pair of nude mid-thigh stockings, and a half-empty box of tampons are the next items to be unearthed.
“Are you married?” I ask, horrified. It is a logical response for his flaking contact but one I hadn’t considered until now.
He sounds more amused than anything when he replies, “How did anything in there allude to marriage?”
“That isn’t a no, Matvei.” I’ll roll out of his vehicle on the freeway if he answers with anything but a clear no. “Answer the fucking question.”
After a beat, he answers, “No. I’m not married.” He wrings the steering wheel until his knuckles go white. “And I suggest you watch your mouth. My hands are twitching.”
I could leave it there, but curiosity gets the better of me. I know my questions annoy Matvei, so much so that maybe he'll feel the need to spank me again. So I ask, “Have you ever been married?”
With a brisk headshake, Matvei hides his pleasure that I’m not easily scared. “No. Never.”
“Not even to a sugar mommy?”
He strays his eyes from the road to me. “What has you so riled?”
One of the positives about being a hothead is getting straight to the point. “This vehicle doesn’t belong to you.”
He doesn’t deny my claim. Instead, he doubles my assurance our getaway car is stolen. “What gave it away?”
“The condoms are new, as if recently placed there, but the tampons’ manufacturer went out of business before I started getting visits from the wicked witch. I’m assuming that means the car’s true owner no longer needs womanly products. And although”—I twist my lips while struggling to recall the name on the driver’s license stuffed under the strip of condoms—“Irina could be scouting for a new boy toy, she’s no longer fertile, so why worry about protection?”
“STIs?”
When I shoot Matvei a riled look, he reminds me it isn’t solely curiosity seeing me seated next to him. It is also my libido.
I halve the brightness of his smile by muttering, “You also tipped way too much. The valets around these parts “misplace” cars for as little as a hundred. Condoms are generally tossed in for free.” With him silenced by my impressive investigative skills, I try to catch him with his guard down. “Married men are also often without protection. They can’t risk their wife finding it. Especially if she’s in the breeding stage of their marital bliss.” I gag on my last sentence.
“I’d ask for names if I believed you’d give me any.” He signals to enter the freeway before placing his hand high on my thigh. “But since you’re as stubborn as me, I’ll have to work them out of you another way.”
As the rapid rise of the speedometer’s needle thrusts me into my seat, Matvei’s hand slides higher up my thigh. The blurred headlights of the cars we’re flying past look like fireworks erupting when his pinkie graces my panties. They’re damp to the touch, and he’s confident enough to know all their wetness is compliments to his deliriously handsome face.
I gasp, unprepared for the sudden bolt that zaps through me when his thumb strums my clit. Such a simple, unhurried movement shouldn’t cause such a catalyst of emotions, but within seconds, I’m struggling to stifle the moans of pleasure rumbling in my chest.