Thief Read Online A. Zavarelli (Boston Underworld #5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Crime, Dark, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Boston Underworld Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
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He closes his eyes and wrestles his cock against me. This trip is a one-way ticket, and there are no refunds or returns. He’s going to take my virginity. He’s going to ruin me for all other men. I don’t feel sorry for it. I only feel impatient.

He squeezes the head inside me as he did before, giving me tiny micro thrusts. His eyes fall shut, and he looks intoxicated before he’s even all the way in. It’s hard to fathom that it’s because of me.

I did that.

“Breathe, little doll,” he whispers.

And I do. His body collapses forward, and as he does, his cock takes root inside my body, fracturing my virginity and possibly my sanity too.

He shudders, and I shiver, and together, we breathe. It hurts, as I expected it to, but mostly, I just feel full. Full of Nikolai. And he is raw. There’s nothing between us, and I’ve never felt so exposed.

He buries his face in my hair, inhaling me. The muscles in his forearms shake. He’s holding back until I’m ready. And I have the suffocating realization that I need him. I need him on my side until I can find my way out. This is what I tell myself. This is what I try to focus on so that my heart remains caged.

“I’m ready,” I whisper.

His pelvis rolls back, and it drags his cock away, leaving me impoverished until it fills me all over again on the return. I touch his hair and smell his skin and watch his face while he fucks me. I watch the way his eyes open and close while he murmurs how good I feel around him.

He squeezes my face and kisses me again. He kisses my throat and my jaw and my hair.

“So sweet.” He hums. “Why must you be so sweet?”

It’s the last spoken thought before his body pulls tight and he buries himself deep, shuddering out his release. Bare. He is bare, and he’s filling me with his cum. His eyes are sated and heavy when he pets my face, his cock softening inside me.

“It does mean something to me,” he says. “This gift you have given means more than you could ever know.”

In the sober light of morning, the little star is no longer under my spell. Cool amber eyes find mine in the reflection of her mirror, disinterested in my presence. I left her in the darkness of night, stealing away to the sanctuary of my own room. And now she is wearing her armor, but she should know it won’t do her any good. I will blow it up or burn it down. Whatever I have to do to show her that she is mine.

Freshly bathed, she prepares herself for the day. It’s the same ritual I’ve watched her execute from the monitor in my office more times than I can count. She brushes her hair. Applies her makeup. And then she castigates herself in the mirror for twenty minutes, a slave to her disease.

I don’t know if she wishes she was perfect, or if it’s only her obsession. But either way, she is perfect to me.

This morning, a black silk robe hangs loosely off her shoulders. And despite the cold reception on her face, her nipples are hard for me. I hope she is sore. I hope that every time she moves today, she feels my cock inside her. I want her to crave it. I want more than anything to demand she never thinks of any other man but me.

“Where are my sheets?” she asks.

“Gone.”

Her eyes pinch together. “To my father?”

I don’t answer. If she expects remorse, she should know I have none. I don’t regret taking her, nor am I sorry for the evidence delivered to her father. It’s the way things are done, and she knows this.

She cinches the belt around her robe and crosses her arms. “It’s a disgusting tradition.”

I want to do all manner of disgusting things to her. For example, right now, I’d like nothing better than to shove my cock into her mouth to shut her up. I could easily spend the day buried inside her, brutalizing her tender pussy to remind her of her place. However, I have other pressing matters to attend to. With this in mind, I toss the morning-after pill onto her vanity, along with the birth control pills the doctor provided.

She picks them up and examines them, relief flooding her eyes when she sees the first package, only to be washed away with panic at the second.

Her eyes shoot up to mine. “I can’t go on the pill.”

“Why?”

“It causes weight gain.”

“So does a baby.” I walk toward the door.

“You’ve fulfilled your duty,” she says. “You ruined me. I see no further need for protection—”

“You can either take the pills or take a baby inside you, but either way, you will be taking my cock, zvezda. Don’t fool yourself by pretending otherwise.”



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