Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
I’d gasped at his crude words.
He straightened, his focus burning into me.
“Every time you think about these stains, you’ll remember who owns you now. The Butcher took your virginity and painted his claim on these sheets. No other man will ever see these marks. No other man will ever touch what I’ve claimed.”
He’d crossed the room in two strides, pulling me against his chest with that unyielding grip. I was already starting to crave it each and every time.
I’d glanced back at the ruined sheets, heat flooding my face and a fresh ache blooming between my thighs. Then I let him lead me out of the suite knowing that wherever this honeymoon took us, the man beside me would never let me forget exactly who I belonged to now.
I was pulled back to the present when the jet started to accelerate down the runway. I tried to focus on anything else at first, the hum of the engine, the way the city disappeared beneath us as the plane lifted into the sky.
None of it held my attention for long, though. Every time I felt his fingers adjust slightly against my leg, the awareness came right back sharper than before.
The sun was setting, and I leaned back into the seat, letting out a quiet breath, but I didn’t move his hand or shift away from him. The warmth of his touch was grounding, sinking deep through my skin the longer his hand pressed to my leg, until it felt less like something I could ignore and more like something I was beginning to accept.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice dropping darker as two fingers slipped beneath my panties and stroked slowly along my swollen folds. “Bet it would take no time at all to make this little pussy wet for me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw because he was right. It would take no time at all. Alexei chuckled as if reading my thoughts but didn’t push further or test how far he could take it.
The rest of the flight passed in that same quiet, secure atmosphere. When we landed, it wasn’t at a crowded airport or somewhere public. The runway was private, a sleek black luxury car already waiting for us, and the transition from the jet to the vehicle was seamless in a way that made it clear this had all been arranged well in advance.
The drive took longer than I expected, the city fading behind us as buildings gave way to open land and long stretches of countryside that seemed untouched by modern development. I sat silently in the back seat, watching it pass by through the window. The quiet settled deeper the farther we went.
Alexei was on business calls the entire trip, his deep, gruff voice thickly accented as he sometimes spoke smoothly in Russian to the person on the other end and, at times, barking out orders that left no room to guess if he called the shots.
Just like on the jet, Alexei didn’t remove his hand from my thigh the entire ride. It stayed there, steady and unmoving, like it belonged exactly where it was, a brand of ownership that I’d never deny.
His fingers occasionally flexed possessively, digging into my flesh like a silent reminder that even on this honeymoon I was territory he refused to share with the world.
By the time the car slowed, we were passing through tall, wrought-iron gates that opened onto a long, winding drive lined with cypress trees. The villa sat high on a hill, sun-warmed stone stretching wide and low against the hills like it had always belonged there. Terra-cotta tiles caught the late light, and wide windows overlooked rows of vineyards that rolled down the landscape in perfect lines. Olive trees with silver-green leaves. Everything about the property spoke of quiet, inherited wealth.
There were guards positioned along the perimeter of the estate, far enough away that they didn’t intrude upon our privacy but close enough that I knew exactly where they were without having to look. It wasn’t something meant to reassure. It was a reminder that nothing here was unprotected.
These were armed men who answered only to The Butcher.
The car came to a stop, and Alexei stepped out first, moving with the same steady certainty he carried everywhere. He rounded the back of the car and opened my door, offering his hand. I took it without question, his palm big and warm, the calluses rough and made me think how many lives he’d taken with them.
The moment my feet touched the ground, his hand shifted from mine to the small of my back, guiding me forward in a way that kept me close.
“You’re quiet,” he said as we stepped inside, his voice closer now, lower, brushing my ear in a way that settled along my spine as I took in the space around me.