Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“You’re so hard,” she says as she moves quicker, the heat of her palm making me twitch.
“I’ve been hard since we got in here,” I groan. “Just looking at you makes me rock-solid. Touching you makes me, makes me …”
I can’t even speak when she brings her mouth to the head of my dick. She swirls her tongue around my tip, looking up at me with her eyebrow raised like she’s asking if it’s good.
I growl as I stroke my hand through her hair, resisting the impulse to push my dick harder into her mouth. She strokes my shaft as she keeps swirling her tongue like she’s coaxing the come out of me and needs it inside her one way or another.
She swirls her tongue around my tip faster and faster, making urgent moaning noises like she wants me to feel as much pleasure as possible. When she pushes her mouth down a little further, I almost lose it. Most of all, though, it’s how she looks at me. She looks up, her eyes almost challenging, like she’s daring me not to come because she knows her power and how difficult it is not to.
I almost roar when she moves her hand even faster, slipping it up and down my length, her tongue moving at the same pace.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan. “Mila.”
“Hmm,” she moans with my dick still in her mouth. She’s nodding, trying to get me to finish. I wonder if she wants me to finish in her.
Suddenly, I can’t wonder about anything. All the pleasure explodes. I hunch over, almost letting out a roar as wave after wave of pleasure bursts out of me. My shaft burns with even more intensity when I see her neck shifting as she swallows my seed and takes every last drop. I’m left panting like a beast, and then I stumble back, my head hazy.
“Don’t fall,” she says, with genuine concern as she wipes her mouth.
I smirk, then laugh. “I think I might.” I pull up my pants. “Fuck, Mila.”
She springs to her feet, her lips glistening with my release, her expression wild and excited from her own release. Walking over to me, she grips onto my front, smiling up at me. “I’ve never done that before,” she says.
My dick starts to harden again, but I know we need to head back soon. Even if our father and Nikolai only managed to plant one guard on our estate—and even if he’s in an underground cell—I don’t want to push our luck. Then it’s like my Mila reads my mind.
“Couldn’t you just stay here forever?” she murmurs, hugging me and putting her cheek against my chest.
The word forever burns into my chest, heart, and soul. I never could’ve thought like this before Mila came along. These ideas would never have fit into my head.
“What?” she says.
“Forever,” I repeat. “Is that just a figure of speech?”
She frowns. “If you want to have a realistic conversation—”
“I don’t,” I growl.
“Then yeah … forever. The only reason it’s unrealistic is, well, you know …”
Her dad. The war. The marriage.
“I’m going to fix this,” I tell her. “We’ll be together: Drake, you, and me. You’ll see. That man won’t be able to hurt you again.”
She turns away the second I mention this, seeming awkward about the idea of talking about what he may have done to her and the pain he inflicted.
“We should go,” I say a moment later.
When I turn my back, she says coldly, “He bullied me. He hit me sometimes, but rarely. When I was younger, he’d ground me by locking me in an underground room. Don’t turn around, please.”
There’s desperation in her voice as she begs me not to look at her. I keep my gaze fixed ahead, and she continues, “He’s just not a good man, but what can you expect from a life like this?”
“We’re better, Mila,” I tell her.
“Define better,” she says.
“We’re not saints, but we’re not devils either.”
When she joins me at the mouth of the cave, taking my hand, she looks up and says, “Dad hurt me, but I don’t want to talk about it. Not until I know he can’t hurt Drake or me again.”
“Does he do the same to your brother?” I ask.
“He’s never hit Drake, but he punishes him for no reason and calls him names. Dad’s pretty sexist. I think the only reason fists haven’t started flying is because he’s a boy.”
I clench my jaw, trying not to visualize the moment sweaty Nikolai Petrov laid his hands on Mila. I want to tear him to pieces, break his bones, shatter him on a fundamental level. I want to ruin the prick, but if I kill him before the time is
right …
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“The truth?”
“Always.”
“About killing your father.”
She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t frown. She doesn’t look scared or excited. She just tilts her head slightly as if she can’t even process the idea, but she will.