Page 93 of Viripotent

I’m a hypocrite, enjoying the way Vlad plays with my body while knowing what he is. But men use women, so I can at least satiate my lust while I’m tied to the bastard. The benefits he offers are all physical and I turn on the massage seats in his car. It’s the best one out of the fleet, and he always scans the paintwork whenever I drive it.

Picking up his habit of tapping in threes, I press my fingers against all the shiny glass on the display spanning the full dash, hoping it pisses him off. Angry Vlad is better than the gentle one he’s trying to be. The gentle, soft version still holds roughness and shows how fake it is. I don’t need him to lull me in with a beautiful lie when the ugly truth has him in my thoughts and dreams.But I still melt every time he does it and I know if I ever wake up beside him I’ll be ruined. He’s even ruined something as awful as period pains by holding me until I fell asleep with his hot hand replacing the heating pad.

Engines growl around me as I take the turn for the Vartanov estate. Looking over my shoulder, there are four bikes forming a motorcade around the car and getting closer. Fucking inconsiderate bastards, don’t they fucking realize I’m already late to take my contraception? If the world was ruled by women, life would be so much easier, there would still be wars but at least we’d fucking communicate a timetable so we could do the important shit.

I speed up and they match me, closing in tighter as we approach the private road leading to the house. The sounds of rumbling get louder as more of Satan’s Rejects surround me and I’m cut off from moving any further forward. Technology works against me with the auto breaking stopping the car when I want to go through them.

Their leader tries his best to be intimidating, throwing his leg over the bike and walking towards me as he unholsters a gun. Even the dark tint can’t hold my eye roll, the fucker watches too many movies, and he’s dumb as fuck thinking I’d be fearful of anyone when I’m married to the devil himself. Knocking on my window with the barrel, I roll it down, acting bored because I am.

“Thanks for the invite but I don’t want to join your little club.”

Growing up within the Bratva I know the best way to hurt a man, his ego. Every one of them bristles at the snub and I don’t move as dickface unlocks my door. I get out before he can touch me, my shoulders are straight, and my head is up. I may not have stars on my knees, but they’re etched into my fucking bones. His breath touches my face and I stare blankly, fixing on thin air to stop from grimacing.

“You’re too sweet for that bastard,” he snarls.

Stroking his finger across my cheek, I give him the attention he wants, and my voice is cold despite my false smile.

“And you’re too old to be playing on your bikes with your friends.”

He must be nearly sixty years old, and age has not been kind to the president of Satan’s Rejects. His gut hangs over his jeans and there’s a stain on his t-shirt. The younger men aren’t slobs and at least dress appropriately,unlike the older men they’re all dotted between who emulate their leader

Their president grips my hair at my nape and pulls my head back. I force my muscles not to react. Men are all the fucking same, what they can’t do with intellect they do by force. Fucking pathetic, another reason why the world would be better if women were in charge. His spit touches my cheek as he angrily hisses when his little ego can’t take my inaction.

“A woman should know her place, her mouth is only useful to put things in, not for whatever falls the fuck out.”

I don’t believe in running away, and do what my loving husband always says I do — run my mouth.

“I already have a roof over my head, which is a lot more comfortable than your gut.”

I wipe away the bastard’s fucking saliva and my insides recoil as he bends my head to the side and licks a path up my neck. The burn on my scalp is nothing compared to the one in my throat at the dirty fuck licking me.

Reaching my ear, he whispers, “I’ll be coming back for you.”

I have to force the bile back down my throat as he nibbles on my earlobe before letting me go. There’s too much fucking excitement in his perverted voice and they all scurry away like ants as tires roll over the gravel.

Staring after them like my gaze can slow them down, Katya jumps out of the car before it can fully stop and rushes to my side.

“Was that?—”

Cutting her off, I nod, and she gets back in the car. I need to bleach my fucking skin and get the fucker’s DNA off me and jump back into Vlad’s car I stole for the day. She follows me and races down the private road as I feel my blood boil at the spit drying on my fucking neck. I keep my head tilted so I don’t have to cut off my hair, and Dima’s brows come together at my weird-ass behavior.

I ignore everyone, my heels angrily click against the wood as I storm through the house into the kitchen and Katya stays behind to talk to her brother. There’s always cleaning products under the sink from whoever Vlad hires to come in the middle of the night and the containers drop as I grab the disinfectant. I run the hot water and soak a cloth in as much of the disinfectant as possible while muttering to myself.

“Filthy fucking cunt.”

I’m getting more pissed as three pairs of footsteps come into the kitchen behind me. They’re all fucking pricks and I’d rather have been shot than have fuckingsalivaon me.Who fucking licks people? Dogs. Dogs lick people. Slimy bastard.

Scrubbing my neck hard enough to take two layers of skin off, the best smell in the world mixes with the harsh disinfectant. Vlad stands at my back and holds my wrist, pausing my movements.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Speaking slow like I’m mentally unstable has me wanting to fucking hurt him. Stupid prick.

I lean forward and the asshole at my back makes himself useful, holding my hair off my neck. I drop the cloth when he tugs on my wrist again. The hot water makes me feel better as I wash away what shouldn’t be there. Breathing easier with my rage warning me, I straighten as he stretches behind him. Coming back with a hand towel, he dries my neck with a smirk.

“Have you finally made yourself crazy with talking all the time?”

I hate him for making me laugh and Dima steps around the other two Vartanovs with knowing eyes. Katya is a fucking snitch, and she has the decency to look apologetic as he opens his fat mouth.

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