Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
"Fuck," he groans out, his voice ragged. "I'm only gonna come inside you."
I hollow my cheeks and take him deeper until he trembles. Just when I feel him start to lose control, his hips spasm, and he pulls me up, spins me around, and bends me over the worktable. His hands grip me possessively.
"Ready for me again?" he growls in my ear.
“Always.” I pant, pressing my back against him.
With a hard thrust, he fills me, and we both groan at the sensation. Our mutual pleasure is intoxicating. He sets a punishing rhythm, meeting my thrusts and sparking waves of pleasure through me. Now that I've come over and over, I’m slick and wet, and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. I hardly remember when it did. I can take him fully, and I fucking love that.
"Mine," he growls into my ear, biting onto my shoulder as he drives into me.
"Yours," I echo, crying out. My nails claw at the steel table for purchase, finding none.
He reaches around to rub my clit. I’m so ready that I come again, screaming. I’ve lost count of how many times I've come, but as he climaxes inside me again, I spasm around him, pleasure and ecstasy binding into one. He follows me over the edge, his release hot and intense as he spills inside me. We collapse together, breathless and sated.
"If we had more time…"
"Semyon," I say, disbelieving.
"I fucking would," he says. "We have to go to the house, but I'll have you tonight, Anya. I don't want you to forget that you're mine."
How could I forget I'm his?
He bends down and kisses the tender place he bit earlier. "Get dressed, Anya.”
"You're enjoying this."
"Not nearly as much as you are," he teases, pulling me to his chest. "You're mine, Anya. All of you. I own every breath, every orgasm, every fucking heartbeat.” His ice-blue eyes lock into mine, intense and unrelenting. “Do you understand me?”
I swallow, lost in the intensity of his gaze.
“Yes,” I whisper, under his power.
His cum lingers on my skin as he cleans me with the balled-up apron, bends, and inhales my raw, wet pussy. “Mmm,” he says in a low, raw whisper. “Delicious.”
He licks and suckles again. This time, the orgasm comes quickly on the heels of the last. I’m panting, my limbs suffused with fire. My head falls back as I come with a scream. He slowly laps me through the aftershocks of pleasure until I'm done.
"You're so fucking lucky it's ten minutes before six," he says with a growl.
"No! Almost six? Oh my god. I have to get ready. We have to go—"
"Relax, Anya. I already texted Rafail and told him we'd be a few minutes late."
He stands up, pulls me to my feet, quivering, and gives my ass an affectionate slap. "Get cleaned up. I have some work to finish here, and then you and I are going to dinner."
My eyes meet his. I feel half-drugged. I shake my head and walk to the bathroom when something flashes in my peripheral vision. I turn around and stare.
There’s a… camera. Staring right at me.
I never installed a camera.
“Semyon?”
“Mmm?” He’s reading something on his phone with a scowl.
“When did you put surveillance cameras in here?”
He shakes his head as cold fear trickles down my spine. “I haven’t had time. Not yet.”
“But… look.”
I barely have time to react before the deafening crack of a gunshot fills the room. I scream, my heart slamming against my ribs as shards of glass and twisted metal scatter across the floor. The camera is obliterated, reduced to nothing but broken pieces.
The echo of the shot still lingers as he lowers the gun, fury darkening his features.
“I’ll fucking find out who installed these,” he growls, his voice tight with rage. “Khristos.” His gaze burns with a cold, lethal focus that makes a shiver skate down my spine.
I stand frozen, torn between fear and awe, at the full weight of his wrath in this small space between us.
“Do you think they saw… what…. Oh god, what we did?”
Of course they did.
His lips press into a thin line. “They’d better play it on repeat because it’ll be the last thing they ever see before I cut their fucking eyes out.”
I close my eyes and stifle a moan. I am in way, way over my head.
Chapter 23
ANYA
The bell over the entrance to the bakery jangles so hard I look up, startled. I know that sound. That anger. That man.
My father storms into the bakery reeking of vodka and sweat, his face mottled and angry, hands clenched like a man ready to strike. I stand behind the counter, fingers curling around the edge of the countertop. Every day I come in here Semyon shadows me, but right now he’s in the back, unloading the latest deliveries of baked goods. Turns out he’s not a huge fan of me lifting the enormous bags of flour and sugar.