Corrupted Prince: A Dark Mafia Romance (Koalistia Bratva Book 3) by Autumn Reign

Author:Autumn Reign [Reign, Autumn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

5

Manya

Dmitry’s Russia was not the Russia of my childhood.

That truth was like a constant whisper, drifting in and out of my subconscious as our days in Russia stretched onwards. I had been worried about the reception of my last-minute tattoo, but Dmitry had all but hauled me out of Tanner’s house and back into the car so that he could show me just how much he appreciated the sentiment.

He’d taken his fill of me and then taken me to an old bar that he’d frequented back in high school. It had been a hole-in-the-wall sort of place, with red brick that seemed to predate the Berlin Wall and a barman that barely looked our way when we entered. The food was greasy and plentiful, and the vodka seemed never ending.

The date was different to any that we had shared before. There was no fancy cutlery, guarded conversation, or subtly weighted words. . . . There were just the two of us, recently sated with alcohol and pub food, talking about our histories and future plans amidst the backdrop of ’50s swing music.

I had never been more attracted to him than I was when we left the bar later that evening, laughing as we stumbled out into the street. We hadn’t gotten back in the car though, instead walking the alcohol off arm in arm down the streets as he shared more of his memories with me.

We’d eventually made our way back to the hotel, ordering room service for dinner and laying around naked in bed until we felt the need to act on the latent attraction that always seemed to be between us. It was easy and freeing, and the perfect ending to our first day in Russia together. I’d come apart again and again under his hands as he worked me over that night, tying me to the bed posts and rendering all control to him again.

It was one of my very favorite, very newly discovered passions: giving myself over so completely to him. I lost count of the number of times that I fell apart, lost count of the leg-shaking orgasms that he inspired, and at some point, I managed to pass out over the top of the plush comforter of the hotel bed.

When I woke up, I was alone, Dmitry having long since disappeared into the darkness of the night. But there were blankets tucked up around me. That, too, set the tone of the next handful of days.

Dmitry and I seemed to be delving steadily closer and closer to one another, learning new things, both about one another and ourselves. We spent our days visiting old haunts of his, meeting random friends who we just happened upon, and learning the city I had only ever passed through as a child. But any time my eyes were turned to something else, any time I was somehow otherwise occupied, Dmitry went missing.

It was subtle at first, like when I was sleeping or when I was bathing. Then it began happening while we were out: for twenty minutes, for half an hour, for a full hour.

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