GHOST (Boston Underworld Book 3) by A. Zavarelli

Author:A. Zavarelli [Zavarelli, A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-24T18:30:00+00:00

27

Talia

Alexei comes in late.

I know, because I can’t sleep in his absence.

Even though we are still worlds apart and will probably never trust each other, his being in the house is the only thing that makes me feel safe. Even though it shouldn’t. Even though it’s the most foolish thing I could do after Dmitri.

I hear him fumbling around in his office, and then a curse before the light comes on down the hall. I swing my legs over the bed and move towards him, like a beacon in the night.

I find him at his desk, pouring a glass of cognac, although it is apparent he has already had several. Only the lamp next to his desk is on, so the light is dim, but even still, I can tell something isn’t right.

When his face comes into view, I see he has a split lip, and a bruise on his cheek.

I step inside and move towards him, only catching his attention when I’m directly in front of him.

“Go back to bed.”

His voice is harsh and cold. I ignore it and round the desk, instead.

He is too wound up, so I don’t chance sitting on his lap. Instead, I sit across from him, on the desk. Studying him, as he does the same.

“What do you want?” he demands.

Right now, I want to fix whatever is hurting him. But I don’t know the way. Nobody has ever showed me. So I do the only thing I can to connect with him. The only way I know.

I lift my hips and discard my shorts while he watches, followed by my cami. And then I’m naked on his desk, spreading my legs for him to see me. My hand slides down between my thighs slowly, playing with myself while he watches.

The room is quiet, and I have every bit of his attention. Cognac long forgotten, he leans forward, just a little, his eyes moving over my body.

“You said you were going to fuck me every day,” I tell him. “But you’re a liar.”

He’s on me then. I’ve never seen him move so fast.

His body is pressing me down against the desk, one hand tangling in my hair and yanking my head to the side so he can kiss my throat. The other is fumbling with his belt and zipper. He frees his cock and then sinks inside of me.

There’s a sigh of contentment, and then some angry muffled Russian against the skin of my throat. He fucks me into the desk and I get more of the same, wrapping my legs around him and letting him use me.

He fucks me hard. Punishing. But the war he is fighting is with himself.

I don’t understand a single thing he’s saying, but his message is clear in any language when he yanks me off the desk and sends me down onto my knees.

I take his cock in my mouth and he gags me with it. And then strokes my face in a tender gesture. I get more of the same.

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