Page 10 of Andrei's Solnyshko

"Fuck."

His breathing hitches with shock, but he quickly recovers. He picks up the pace and slides another finger into my forbidden hole. My vision darkens as he rides the intoxicating line of too much. The pain, the pleasure, I can’t tell them apart anymore and the noises he pulls out of me are foreign. I moan, whimper and mewl, I sigh and I beg, and he curses.

“Come for me.”

My release is so much that I fear I might pass out. He moans just as loudly, and I swear he comes in his jeans.

He removes his fingers and I come down from my high and immediately crash into a darkness of shame. He helps me stand but my knees almost give out, so he scoops me into his strong arms and carries me to bed. He leaves and returns with a warm washcloth. He cleans me, gently and silently, but I can’t bear to look at him. His touch is gentle, but what if he’s disgusted by my behavior? I didn’t imagine his shock when I begged for more, but I thought he was turned on just as much as I was. What if I was wrong? What if he thinks I’m sick and twisted and not worth twelve million dollars?

I’mnotworth twelve million dollars. I’m not worth a cent. He’s surely going to kill me, and no one will even know I’m gone.

I don’t have to ask if he knows I’m an orphan. He’s a member of the Sokolov Bratva. He knows everything about me. He knows I have no one. He knows I barely graduated high school and was homeless until I found a job as a casino waitress. And then I met Carlos.

He gave me a choice. What if I had chosen Carlos’s death over my imprisonment? Would I be free? He knew I’d beg him tospare Carlos’s life. I don’t want anyone to die, no matter how evil they are.

If I want to survive I have to let him treat me however he wants. I’m an object, a thing.

He’s a murderer, a criminal, a man without morals. He’ll use my embarrassing fetishes against me. He’ll diminish my worth and break what little resolve I have left. And that’s if I’m lucky. That’s if he lets me live.

He may own my body but I need to protect my heart.

I close my eyes pretending to be asleep. In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve gone from fearing a man, to obeying him and practically begging him to do whatever he wants, to only return to fearing him again.

I’m no angel. I’m just a sick and twisted sex feign who will let anyone control me for sexual favors. I’m exactly what Carlos said. I’m a whore.

Chapter Four

Andrei

I let the scolding hot water roll over my body, as I relive the events of the day. Months of planning and conniving finally came to fruition.

I knew I had to have her the moment I laid eyes on the beautiful creature.

I was scanning the security cameras of my multiple casinos, like I do every night, making sure my dealers weren’t stealing from me. And I spotted her. My angel. She was wearing a white, strapless dress that hugged her curves perfectly and her cleavage deliciously bubbled over. Her breasts are even more perfect in person, and my cock hardens as I remember rolling my fingers over her nipples and pinching them. Fuck if she didn’t love it.

The night I saw my angel for the first time I instantly knew I was put on this planet to protect her. She had no way of knowing she was staring right into the camera, right at me, but it felt like she knew I was there. Confidence was pasted on her face, but there was no denying the fear and desperation in her eyes. The exhaustion and defeat. I saw every emotion she was attempting to conceal. And then she brushed her golden locks aside and I saw it. A faded bruise. I searched the rest of her body and anger erupted inside me. She tried to cover them up but just like heremotions, I could see them. Marks on her arms and handprints around her neck. She sashayed across the room, her ass outlined by the tight fabric of her dress, but she hugged her side gingerly. I knew from experience, her injuries were not the result of an accident. She may have everyone else fooled, but she needed me.

I went down to the floor that night and bumped into her, pretending not to see her, and the electricity that flowed between us was magnetic. I winked and she blushed, the dullness in her eyes brightened only for a moment. Right then I decided I wanted her. And Andrei Sokolov gets what he wants.

When Carlos Caldera approached her my anger boiled to the surface. I always knew he was a sleazeball. Even his cousin, the head of a mediocre gang, had washed his hands of him. At least so I thought.

I watched as he grabbed her arm and pinched her, digging his fingernails into her skin, until she winced. I was about to intervene and break his legs, but a plan emerged. Sure, I could harm him, and I would, but that wasn’t all I wanted. I had never felt this way about another woman, and I’ve had plenty. Waiting and plotting meant my angel would have to endure his wrath for a while longer, but I silently promised her it would be worth it.

He would pay, and she would be mine.

My intelligence team dug into her past and I hacked into his cameras learning as much about her as possible. But he barely let her out of his sight, and when he wasn’t home she was locked in a separate wing of the house. The poor woman wasn’t even allowed to eat without permission. One night while watching her on camera, I saw her writing in a secret diary. When they were out of the house my men went in and took pictures, sending them to me. She wrote about hating herself, blaming herself forhis abuse. She wrote about wanting a family and wondering why she wasn’t good enough. My heart broke for her.

She wrote about starving and the food she craved. She wrote about her dream life, the house she wish she could live in and how she would decorate it. Pools, backyards with waterfalls and foot bridges, saunas and workout rooms, a theatre with all the candy in the world. She wrote about hating high heels and skimpy dresses. She wished for jeans and sweatshirts, and she listed items she’d buy if she had her own money.

She also wrote about her sexual cravings and the type of man she yearned for. I was that man. She didn’t know it yet, but everything she described was me. She had dark desires only I could make come true.

There were nights when he laid his hands on her and I wanted to rip him limb from limb, but it only solidified my fortitude to get her out of there. I won’t lie, there were also many nights I masturbated as I watched her in her room, and I sprayed my seed all over the screen.

Carlos was already indebted to my casino, but instead of calling him out on it, I let it continue to mount to the point of no return. I would confront him and threaten to kill him, Caldera or not, and they played right into my hands. Summer valued life, even the life of a scumbag, and she quickly gave herself to me to spare him.

She doesn’t know it, but after he called her a slut, I had him killed. After beating him within an inch of his life, he still had the nerve to treat her like his property. After pissing himself and graveling, he still treated her like garbage. Even after she gave herself in exchange for his life, he degraded her. So, I did what I do best. I emptied his bank account and had him tortured and killed. I don’t regret it. It’s what I do best and the fuckerdeserved it. He marked mysolnyshko, my little sun, he dimmed her light, and he doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. Julio may come for me, time will only tell. If he does, the little ant will regret it.

I may be a murderer but even I have morals. Grey morals, but still morals, and I would never harm a woman. I watched my mother take the abuse from my father for years. I watched her cry, I watched her cover up her bruises, and I watched him call her every name in the book. He disgusted me, and when I was finally old enough to put a bullet in his head, I did, taking over the Bratva with my brother, Sergei.

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