Page 49 of Dance with Death

And like a hammer to a porcelain doll, he’s going to shatter my mind into a million irreparable pieces.

Chapter 13

Nikolai

I lean backin my chair, letting my head fall back and my eyes drift shut. I try to relax and enjoy the feel of Sasha’s pretty lips around my cock, but her softness simply isn’t the same. She may have the same brown hair, dark eyebrows, and feminine frame as Anya, but she doesn’t suck like her, doesn’t taste like her, fuck like her, feel like her.

I comb my fingers into Sasha’s hair at the back of her skull, grip firmly, and yank her head back. Her lips break free of my cock with a pop that’s more annoying than satisfying. She looks up at me with puppy dog brown eyes, wanting to please her master and wondering how she’s failed.

She’s a weak piece of ass that I’ve already grown bored with. Still, my dick is hard. If I could just find a way to shut up the gnawing voice of my dead father, the voice who tells me that I’m an ambivalent, pansy-ass, pretty boy, then I could do what I really want to do and fuckhismouth.

I glance over at Ezra, who is fuming in the armchair beside mine in my bedroom. His knee bounces with his anxiety. He’s a ball of furious energy that’s constantly on the verge of exploding, especially when I force him to sit and watch as I do terrible things to Sasha.

I haven’t involved him in the ways I did when Anya was here. I can’t say for sure why. Perhaps it’s because of Sasha. She’s a weak little girl, eager to please. She fell into servitude so quickly and so easily that it has honestly put me off.

Anya was obedient and submissive, she followed my commands and aimed to please, but it wasn’t for some delusion that she could make me fall in love with her. Sasha’s eyes told me she was a hollow shell of a young woman with daddy issues; a girl who would crawl on her knees and beg for an ounce of affection.

Anya would crawl and beg, too, but it was for survival, not desire.

Fuck.

Sasha speaks to me in Russian, the only language she knows. She apologizes to me and offers me her pussy. She fuckingoffersit, just affirming to me that all women are sluts and whores.

Ezra’s arms are crossed over his broad chest, a permanent scowl etched to his face, and his eyes are narrowed on the flames blazing in my fireplace. Fuck, I want to wipe that look off his face with my cock shoved in his mouth. But there’s a buzz inside me, a painful vibration that ticks up every time I start thinking about how much I want him, and it shakes me right back to reality with my father’s voice, the words that have haunted me for years.

Ambivalent.

Pansy-ass.

Pretty boy.

I toss Sasha away by the hair and she catches herself on her palms. She looks up at me with questions in her eyes, wondering what she’s done wrong. It’s pointless for her to question because she can’t fix her failure. Her failure is simple—she’s not Anya.

I tell her to get on all fours so I can fuck her from behind without having to look at her face, but my cell phone pings and buzzes in my back pocket, distracting me. Once, twice, three times in a row the texts ping through—I should’ve turned it off before I started fucking my slave’s mouth.

I shift in my seat, reaching behind me to pull my phone from my back pocket. I look at the screen and narrow my eyes in curiosity.

I’ve got three new messages from Vigo Vittori.

We’re not exactly friends, so this is unusual. Given that I sold him my girl a little over a month ago, the prickling on the back of my neck tells me this has something to do with her.

Not ‘my girl.’

My slave.

I sold him myslave.

My thumb twitches, hovering over the screen as the thought of her death flashes across my mind. If he’s killed her, there’s no doubt in my mind he’d tell me about it. If he’s killed her then…

Fuck.

I set my phone down on the side table between me and Ezra and shove my erection back into my pants. I stand, pat Sasha on the ass, and tell her to get the fuck out. Then, I pick up my phone and stride across to the far corner of my room beside the window.

The door closes behind Sasha as she leaves. There’s no reason for doubt in my mind that she’ll do anything but go right back to her room. It’s so fucking pathetic the way she’s bowed to me so quickly. I don’t think I’d care if she offed herself or tried to escape into the wilderness.

I feel Ezra’s eyes burning a hole in my back once she’s gone. He wants to leave, too, and it’s simply for that reason that I make him stay while I open the messages Vigo has sent to me.

VIGO:Breaking in your girl. Thought you might enjoy this.

---