Page 13 of Andrei's Solnyshko

I only have him.

I’m at Andrei Sokolov’s mercy. He’s a killer, a criminal. He’s powerful and evil. He’s gorgeous and just the sound of his voice makes my thighs tighten. He’s commanding and demanding. His hands are magic and his mouth is filthy. Amazingly filthy. And his tongue. He’s a wizard of orgasms.

I face the wall and let the water rinse out my conditioner as I slow my racing pulse. Just thinking about him creates a fire in my core.

But he’s not a good person. He said it himself. He’s the devil. I should be frightened of him. What if he gets angry and hits me? What if he makes fun of my kinks? Carlos did.

You’re a fucking whore. I can’t believe the shit you like. You disgusting, filthy, slut. How can you even live with yourself.

You’re fat. Do another line of coke.

You’ll wear what I tell you to wear, you white trash bitch!

You better put on a good fucking show and shake that ass, because I own you and I want everyone to know it.

If you even think of defying me, I’ll whore you out to the first man I see.

And then I’ll kill you.

What if he pimps me out? What if he kills me? Have I gone from one evil to another? Or worse?

His booming voice makes me jump and I almost slip, but his strong arms embrace me, keeping me upright. I yelp from his tight hold, and he quickly loosens his grasp, but doesn’t completely let me go. He ignores the water dripping down his bare chest and faded jeans.

He steps back, shuts off the water, and hands me a towel. “Breakfast is ready.”

I wrap myself in the comfort of the fluffy towel. My stomach growls but I still say, “I’m not hungry.”

His finger grazes down my arm, sending a shiver of need throughout my body.

“You’re way too thin, my angel. I won’t let you starve.”

“But, I’m fa..”

His voice quickly rises, “If you say fat, I’m going to bend you over my knee and spank you.”

My cheeks flush, but I retort, “I’ll say what I want.”

“You will never say what that pinhead brainwashed you with, do you understand me?”

My voice drips with saccharine, “Whatever you say, Master.”

“I am not your master.”

I glare at him as he invades my space, marveling at his tattoos.

“You will call me Sir because it turns you on. You will call me Sir because it turns me on. I am not your Master, Summer, butI will spank you for misbehaving. And if you’re good, I’ll spank you more.”

I try to ignore the wetness between my thighs. “Master, Sir, it doesn’t matter. You own me. You bought me. I’m just a thing. An object. I’m yours to abuse, to fuck, to whore out.”

Anger flashes in his eyes and I know I asked for it, for his wrath. I crouch in the corner of the shower and try to prepare for the pain he’s about to inflict. A guttural roar rages from his throat and I cry out.

He scoops me in his arms and carries me to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. I hate that I feel comforted from his touch. I’m so fucked up. He scares the shit out of me but yet I feel safe in his strong arms. I'm in a constant war with myself.

I didn’t realize I was crying until his thumb wipes away the moisture. I bury my face into his wall of a chest and breathe in his masculinity.

His voice is gruff but surprisingly sweet, “Solnyshko, mysolnyshko. I will never harm you and I will kill anyone who tries to lay a finger on you. You are mine as much as I am yours.”

I raise my chin, “What about fucking?”

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