Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Gennadiy looked down at me, then around at the run-down, seedy club. He shook his head. “Why do you do this?” he whispered, sounding genuinely confused.
He wouldn’t understand. He had no idea what it was like to have your parents ripped away from you. All he cared about was amassing more power and wealth, building his empire. I lifted my chin. “Why do you?”
Before he could answer, the drape behind him was wrenched open. “You haven’t even started yet?” Amvrosy asked, dismayed. He stared at me. “Why do you still have your clothes on?”
Gennadiy glared over his shoulder. But Amvrosy was drunk or horny enough that he didn’t back down. “I have to run this place,” he reasoned. “I have to deal with it if she brings my profits down. If you’re having all the fun, I should at least get to watch.”
That was difficult for Gennadiy to argue with, without raising suspicion. He sighed. “Fine.” He moved around me and sat down on the leather couch. I stared at him. Wait. He’s not seriously suggesting...
“What are you waiting for?” Gennadiy asked. “Dance.”
13
ALISON
I stood there for a moment, staring. But I— I can’t—
Gennadiy gave me the tiniest of nods. I had to, if I wanted to walk out of there. And then I saw those cold gray eyes gleam and heat. He might not have wanted it; he’d even tried to save me from it, but now that it was happening, he was going to enjoy it.
That ribbon of heat twisted down to my groin again. I was uncomfortably aware of how glad I was that it was Gennadiy sitting there, and not Amvrosy, even though it shouldn’t have made a difference. He’s just another gangster, just like all the rest...right?
The idea of doing this for my arch enemy, becoming his lipsticked, fawning sex toy, draping myself submissively all over him…the anger welled up inside me righteous and indignant, but then folded in on itself, becoming a confusing, dark energy that lashed down between my thighs.
I began to move to the music, shuffling on the spot and awkwardly bucking my hips. I had no idea what I was doing. How I was supposed to just...dance when I didn’t know the track or the moves or—
“She’s terrible,” said Amvrosy from behind me. “Loosen up! Make it sexy! Can’t you even dance?”
And something happened: I got mad.
Maybe it was stored-up resentment from when I had to give up ballet. Maybe it was pain at what I’d become: a stiff, suited FBI agent who’d forgotten how to be sexy. I wanted—needed—to prove him wrong. They want me to dance? Fine.
I closed my eyes, stopped trying to perform, and just let the music take me. Each long, keening wail by the singer made me arch my back and sway like a snake. Each slow drumbeat made me twitch my hips, changing direction with my ass until I was tracing sultry figure-eights. I let the music be my lover, running my hands up my thighs and over my hips, crisscrossing over my breasts and then up my neck to my hair. I plucked away my hair band and let my hair spill free.
“Now that’s fucking sexy,” muttered Amvrosy.
I half opened my eyes for a second. Gennadiy was watching, and his expression was a mixture of shock, lust, and awe. I closed my eyes, a strange warmth soaking through me. It shouldn’t have mattered that he was impressed. But it did.
I turned slowly on the spot, letting Gennadiy watch my ass as I writhed and thrashed. I got so lost in the feeling of dancing that it was a shock when Amvrosy’s voice cut through my haze. “Time to start peeling.”
I opened my eyes and glanced down at myself. At my ruined leg. Boy, are they ever going to be disappointed. But I might as well get it over with. I fumbled with the waistband of my leggings, trying to figure out how best to strip them off mid-dance. I was already bracing myself for the disgust, the laughter. What happened to you? You fall into a deep fat fryer?
“Leave the leggings,” said Amvrosy. “Too awkward. Next time, wear a dress.”
I let out my breath, sagging in relief. But that still left my top half. I turned back to Gennadiy. I couldn’t explain it: even though I hated him, I wanted it to be him who saw me, not Amvrosy.
Gennadiy’s eyes had turned absolutely molten, and they climbed slowly up my legs as I swayed to the beat. They lingered on my bare midriff, then moved higher, over my breasts, up to my face. I’d never seen him so...hungry. It was like I could see into his mind, see myself spread and naked and moaning as he ran through all the ways he wanted to fuck me.