Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
But for now, I would take my time looking at her sleep.
She was slowly curling onto her side, which meant her toes were starting to slide towards me. I held perfectly still, waiting. Eventually I got my wish.
Pink toes and elegant little soles were inches away from me. Her. Feet. Were. Beautiful.
I groaned as her toes touched my leg. Just a little. But it sent a shock of lust through me. I stared down at those perfect feet. I wanted to rub them for her. I wanted to kiss them. I wanted to lick and suck on them.
I was instantly hard. Not just a little bit, either. My shaft felt like it might explode from the pressure building up inside it. I’d never had an issue with getting hard, but I didn’t even know the meaning of painful erection before I met Mishka. Not even as a teenage boy had I been so swollen. It hurt. I wanted relief. But it was worth the pain. I wouldn’t have moved for the world.
I would not risk waking her.
Thankfully, the object of my affection did not stir. I watched and waited, turning the volume of the movie almost all the way down. I didn’t want this moment to end. I also did not want her to wake up and find me slobbering on her with the TV on silent.
Eventually the movie ended. The screen was silent. I leaned forward and turned it off. I realized that the only thing I wanted to do more than sit here with her, was to put her to bed. She would sleep better there.
And I would get a chance to tuck her in.
Chapter 30
Mishka
Istared at the ceiling, not yet fully awake. I was in a hotel room, I realized. I was in New York. We were on a journey around half the world and this was only the first leg.
A sense of excitement warred with a sense of dread inside me. The further we got from home, the further I was from my father. The further I was from any sense of myself or familiarity.
I would have to get used to waking up in strange, but luxurious places, I realized. Not something most people would complain about. All things considered; I was very lucky. I felt a bit like Cinderella, if she had been sold to the mafia to pay a family debt.
Actually, if I was in a fairy tale, it was Beauty and the Beast.
I rolled to my side, letting my thoughts float like leaves on a stream.
I remembered the plane ride and the nearly perfect day we had had. But I had no memory of getting into bed. I closed my eyes again, not ready to face reality. I did not know what time it was, or where my employer was. It was extremely disorienting.
Anton… he had surprised me yet again. The girls in the department store had been right. He was treating me more like a doting lover than a captor. But that wasn’t it exactly. He was not making demands of me. Not in that way. He was treating me with respect.
He had so many sides. It was impossible to put him into any one category. Anton was a known killer. Ruthless. A monster. To the outside world, he was hardly tender, and yet I would call him tender. He had been more than once. He had been tender and protective towards me many, many times.
And that was the least of it.
I was starting to suspect that he had created this entire situation, this unusual arrangement, simply to help while allowing my father to save face. And perhaps, just perhaps, because he wanted to get closer to me. I could not imagine why. I knew I was talented and passably pretty. But he had bedded some of the most famous and beautiful women in the world. He had his pick.
Was it possible that he had developed true feelings for me during my service? Or had he arranged all of this for a chance to be close to me? That was madness. An impossibility.
And yet it rang true. Whatever was happening between us, there was more than met the eye, that much was certain. If it was the chicken or the egg that came first, I could not tell. Perhaps it did not matter.
But he did care for me. I knew it. It was more than simply wanting to believe it. The truth was, I would not have dared even dream it if he had not put so much evidence in front of me, time and time again.
Or was this just his behavior on this journey? When we returned to Moscow would he go back to the aloof master who ignored me much of the time? The man who only cracked his hard shell when playing chess, or when touching me, or kissing me?