Corruption – Underworld Kings Read Online Jenika Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors: Jenika Snow Advertisement

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His ruddy face was sweaty, mixing with the red viscous fluid. He bled out faster than I thought he would, but then again his veins were also filled with alcohol, his blood thin because of it.

When he lay at my feet as nothing but a corpse, I spit on him then turned and left, heading back to my girl.

I didn’t give two shits who Vladimir tortured or killed to get information on where Anastasia was, and no matter how careful I was someone—a neighbor possibly—might have seen me leave with her. Igor might have called in backup before I snapped his neck.

It was only a matter of time before Vladimir got a morsel of information he needed, like a bloodhound with a scent.

And I’d be ready. Ready to kill him not only for the hell and horror he put me through, but kill him to protect Anastasia.

I thought back to my girl sleeping in my bed, covered in my shirt… smelling like me.

I wondered what she’d think if she knew I killed a man simply for insulting her honor.

Chapter

Eighteen

Anastasia

I wasn’t sure what woke me at first, but when I felt movement behind me, my head still in that foggy, dreamlike state, I realized I wasn’t alone in bed.

I should’ve felt instant fear instead of the calmness that settled over me when a strong, heavy arm wrapped around my middle.

I shouldn’t have sighed at the feel of his warmth when I was pulled back against an impossibly hard chest.

And I especially shouldn’t have felt any kind of pleasure when I heard Kostya’s deep voice rumble against my hair, his words indistinguishable because I was still in that sleepy state where I wasn’t fully awake.

I could smell soap and shampoo covering him, the same ones I used before I slipped into bed and wanted to dream this entire day away.

His skin was warm, and I closed my eyes, taking in the undertones of Kostya’s true scent.

That wild, spicy smell that reminded me of so much. The pleased sound I made embarrassed me, but I knew he understood where it came from. I knew he liked it because he pulled me even closer, my back to his chest, my bottom to his groin.

I could feel how hard he was; I knew I should push him away, scream at Kostya and yell at him not to touch me, but the truth was I missed him.

I’d missed him so damn much that it made me want to cry right now.

I just wanted to pretend this was our reality, that we weren’t in some fucked-up version of something we could never change.

For long moments we just lay there, with the feel of his fingers brushing over my wrist, then moving along each of my fingers.

I could’ve fallen asleep like that if not for the wet heat I felt between my thighs, or the fact his cock seemed to throb against my lower back, incessant and huge.

I didn’t want to like this softer side of him, where I could pretend he wasn’t a killer and keeping me prisoner.

But I was so tired and not in the literal sense. To be honest, this was the first time I’d been out of my father’s reach, where I didn’t have his soldiers watching over me.

I may have lived alone, but I had enough eyes on me, and a security setup thanks to my father, I never felt like I had privacy.

But I felt that now and it was liberating.

It was also distracting and infuriating. Kostya made me feel things I’d never experienced before, an arousal that sucked the air from my lungs and had all common sense and rationalization leaving me.

“I’m not going to let anyone or anything ever hurt you again.” The deep tones of his voice had more weight lifting from me, and I let it all go.

I closed my eyes and wet my lips before opening them again and stared at the window.

Of course I tried opening it again and again while I’d been stuck in the room all day. I’d looked for any tools I could use to scrape away the paint and pry the damn thing open.

I’d looked for any furniture I could lift and easily break the glass. But by then I was exhausted and mentally worn down.

There was always tomorrow, I’d told myself.

“And what if you’re the one hurting me?” I whispered in response to his statement.

He was silent for long seconds, still petting me while intermittently scenting my hair, which was still damp from my own shower.

“You know I’d never hurt you.” His reply was low and soft and I didn’t respond because… I knew this to be true.

Even after all these years and my current situation, I knew this was the truth.

“I like that you wear my things.” He moved his hand to my hip and slid his fingers back and forth over the white T-shirt I’d slipped on before going to bed.

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