Series: Series by Ker Dukey
Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
No more running.
I quietly slip back inside the low-lit room, feeling the cool air from the AC brush against my skin as I climb into bed. I stare up at the ceiling, my mind racing while struggling to fall asleep. The minutes stretch into an hour, filled only with the sound of my restless thoughts and Roza's settled breathing.
Suddenly, the door creaks open, and both Rodion and Z quietly enter, their silhouettes highlighted by the soft blue glow of the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains.
“What are you doing?” I whisper into the stillness.
The mattress dips as they both climb into bed, Z beside me and Rodion next to him. We’re packed in like a trio of fucked-up sardines.
“Sleeping,” Z proclaims with a hint of humor in his voice as he stretches out his limbs in an attempt to get comfortable. “And we’re definitely buying a new fucking bed first thing tomorrow morning because this one was clearly made for tiny people.”
“Why in here?” I urge, rolling my eyes.
The bed feels impossibly small compared to how enormous they both are. His weight presses firmly against my side, and I have to resist the overwhelming urge to lean into the warmth radiating from him. The familiar scent wraps around me like a security blanket.
Damn, this is going to be torture.
“Because it’s where you are,” he replies casually, as if the answer couldn’t be more obvious.
“Go to sleep,” Rodion commands, his tone brooking no argument. He punches a pillow before stuffing it under his head, then casually slings his arm over Z’s waist. Their bodies fit together naturally, their legs intertwining as if they were meant to be this way.
How on earth am I supposed to sleep like this? With their warmth and closeness so palpable, my thoughts race with indecent thoughts. Yet, despite my worries, exhaustion claims me almost immediately, dragging me down into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zahkar
No fucking bra.
This woman kills me.
I drag my eyes over Alyona, who’s sitting on the bathroom counter, swinging her legs. She dressed in a stupidly small pair of shorts and a tight tank top.
Her tits are fucking amazing and taunt me all hours of every day.
It’s taken every ounce of willpower not to ravish her these last couple of weeks, especially since I lie next to her every night in bed. I have to keep my back to her in order to control my stupid dick from poking in her ass. Rodion gets the pleasure of that instead. Not that he minds.
Damn, she’s gorgeous when she’s just woken up. She has a body so enticingly exquisite that you’d cross oceans, brave wars, and surrender your heart, all for just a glimpse of her. The mere thought of what lies beneath those clothes is enough to ignite a fierce ache within me. I’m a man fucking starved of her and it’s a special kind of cruelty.
“I can do this myself.” She blushes, unable to hide a cute smile. “I just need a second opinion. I think I may be able to lose the bandage soon. I feel like a pain in the ass getting you to check it for me. ”
She nearly got a pain in her ass last night…
“You are a pain in the ass,” I tease to relax her, “but I don’t mind.”
She swats my arm playfully and watches me lay out the bandages, wipes, and other supplies on the counter beside her.
“You’ll need to lift that shirt or lose it all together,” I say with a devious smirk. “That may be a little distracting, though.”
Oh, it definitely will be distracting. Just being around her period is distracting.
She teases back with a saucy grin and fire in her eyes as she rolls up her top to sit beneath her tits and delicately peels away the old bandage.
When she left, when the heaviness got too much and pulled me under, I found myself wishing I’d never had her. Never tasted her sweetness or felt the warmth of her body beneath me. But the truth is, I’d endure any pain, any heartbreak to have those memories of her. To know her.
Placing my hands on her knees, I part her thighs making her breath hitch. Her eyes dart to mine, the blue depths like the center of a flame. Her chest rises and falls a little too quickly giving away that I’m not the only one distracted.
At least I’m not the only one in pain around here.
Standing between her thighs, I rip open one of the cleaning wipes with my teeth and gloat inside when her tongue whips out to moisten that fat bottom lip of hers.
Pulling the little piece of wet cloth free, I dab it around her wound making her jump a little. “Sorry,” I say, barely above a whisper, concentrating on the task. It looks healed, the small thin line raised and ready to form a scar.