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His palm appears on the steamed-up glass, water running over it. Behind it, his naked body is a blur. I see a motion I recognize and nearly fall to my knees.
Vlad is saying my name while he—
I clap my hand over my mouth as though I might breathe loudly enough to give myself away. I'm mesmerized, but I force myself to back away toward the door.
If he opens that panel and sees me standing here, anything could happen. He could kill me. Or, more likely, he could fuck me ragged.
I feel a pull deep in my core, and I'm forced to acknowledge the gravity of my predicament.
A murderer is forcing me to marry him. I'm losing my freedom, my agency, everything. But I'm powerfully attracted to the man, and he wants me too.
Most people get turned on by people theylike, but not me. I hate Vlad's life, everything he stands for, what he's doing to me. Men like him brought my father low and ruined our lives. But pretending to be crazy about Vlad might come all too easily.
A deep, primal moan comes from within the ensuite.
He's coming.While thinking about me.
Look away. Walk away. Run away. Don't just stand here!
Vlad shuts off the shower, breaking the spell. I turn and run back to the bedroom.
* * *
I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. My body is burning up, but I'm not sick. Or maybe I am.
This sexy-as-all-fuck Russian mob boss wants me.Me, Morgana Bloom. Could Vladi, of all people, be the first man I ever attracted who has a scrap of decency?
I'd probably find better relationship prospects on Death Row. But my body didn't get that memo, and there isn't a snowball in hell's chance of falling asleep unless I deal with the insistent pulse in my pussy. I glance at the door to check it's definitely closed.
When I slip my hand beneath my waistband, I find my panties drenched. My clit stands proud, desperate for attention, and I move the little hood, shuddering as pleasure warms my abdomen.
Vladimir Kislev. My captor and, soon, my husband. A man who swore not to touch me unless I asked. What would he have done if I'd stepped into that water beside him?
I close my eyes and imagine it.
Vlad doesn't speak. He knows there's nothing to say. His cock is enormous and angry-looking, thick in his hand. He lets go of it to weave his fingers through my hair, pushing me to my knees.
The water rains down, and he hunches slightly to protect me from it. His purple tip is level with my lips, and I open my mouth. He growls and moves his hips, sliding his warm length to the back of my tongue.
I tighten my throat, trying to feel him there, and my pussy clutches in response. My clit throbs under my fingers.
Vlad digs his fingertips into my scalp, holding my head in place to fuck my mouth. He smashes into the back of my throat, and I gag. As he pulls free of me, a thick strand of saliva links him to my lips, and he gathers it in his palm. His hand invades my mouth, thrusting his fingers as deep as possible, shoving my head onto them. I choke and cough. He laughs as he withdraws, rubbing his spit-covered hand over my face.
I don't know where this rough scenario came from. I never had a man treat me that way, not even Jack—he liked to beat me but rejected me sexually. It was about control.
No. Don't think of Jack now. Stay with Vlad.
He yanks me to my feet and slides his hands under my ass, picking me up easily. My back thumps into the chill of the tile wall, and he presses my knees to my chest, exposing my hot pussy. One firm thrust is all it takes, and he buries himself to the hilt.
I can almost feel him inside me, and tension gathers in my core. My pussy spasms as the image throws me into my orgasm, and I grasp around for a pillow, pulling it over my mouth.
I can't remember when I last came so hard. I roll onto my stomach, the mattress cool under my hot skin, and I'm asleep in seconds.
13
Vlad
The couch is comfortable enough. The drapes are open an inch, and the moonlight cuts the darkness like a clean blade.
