Page 64 of Born in Depravity

I looked down at my body.

Like this, I could see myself fully. The skin wasn’t as red as I thought it would be. I felt cheated somehow. The waxing had hurt, yet my skin looked almost normal. Just a little pink and nothing more.

I looked at my naked breasts, with my nipples protruding out in the most obscene way … a fucking whore begging for attention. I crossed my arms to hide them. Mikhail seemed amused by that.

He grabbed the blanket and pulled it over us.

Then he clicked off the light.

The room was utterly dark.

I wiggled a bit but Mikhail only tightened his hold on me until I stilled. Letting out another sigh, I forced myself to relax.

It was surprisingly comfortable in his arms. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had been held.

But I shouldn’t mistake him as anything else but a Russian devil.

He was not the hero in my story.

Neither was Damien or Nikolay.

I would do well to remember that.

My eyes grew heavy as I thought about all those books I had read growing up. About the white knights in shiny armor, rescuing the princesses from their misery.

Admittedly, I had wished for someone to rescue me.

Wished to escape the hellhole that was my room, and wished to escape my father’s grasp.

But not like this.

Fuck.

Not like this.

The last thing I remembered before I finally succumbed to sleep was the feeling of Mikhail’s lips on my forehead.

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