Page 76 of Betrothed
The Ghost.
Everyone had a weakness. Every man and woman on this earth. That’s how Kirill would track him down.
With four more cracks of the belt, beads of perspiration were slowly sliding down the back of my neck. Every breath I took proved how rattled I was. Not from the agony, although that was significant, but from remembering what my sexy Russian had told me.
The ultimate in pleasure involved pain.
How did I know he was right?
My pussy was throbbing, juice slickening both inner thighs. The truth was I was a blissful mess.
As heat rose across my skin, he continued the spanking, methodical in his actions. One coming right after another. I held back squeals and moans, my face against the counter, the cool touch a welcome contrast to the heat building in my bottom.
He stopped long enough to caress my skin, staring at me the same way I was doing with him. When the right corner of his mouth crooked, another shiver drifted all the way to my toes.
“Who are you, Vivian?” he asked as he pushed his full weight against me.
“You know who I am. A doctor determined to live her life the way she wants.”
As he pressed his lips against my neck, a series of shivers shifted down my spine, his hot breath cascading across my skin causing a series of filthy thoughts. “Who is your father?”
“Just a rich man with no morals.”
His laugh was fraught with a sound that was as unnerving as the man. “Will I discover secrets you’re determined to hide from me?”
“Don’t we all have them?”
The nip of my ear made me weak in my knees. “You’re right. But some secrets are more dangerous than others.”
We were far too much alike.
And that terrified me more than anything.
CHAPTER 17
Kirill
Since the dawn of time, men have used their physical strength to overthrow another, often without harboring a single regret.
Those carrying the burden of guilt were considered weak links, either pushed aside or run over altogether. Power and greed were always the reason for structured fighting whether inside a closely knit organization or when two or more regimes were determined to have control over the others.
Creating chaos used to be different but was always an effective method of disarming an opponent. When you pushed them from their comfort zone, they generally couldn’t adapt without suffering damage if not death.
With the invention of the computer and the internet, acts of vengeance had become much more sophisticated.
In the world of corporate business, those considered honorable men were often the most corrupt. They usually wreaked havocwith the stroke of a pen and money exchanging hands, but the destruction was just as catastrophic.
With crime syndicates, there were those who’d evolved, becoming staunch commerce leaders who rarely got their hands dirty.
Then there was the Bratva who reveled in bloodshed and violence, akin to the most addictive indulgence. Men could be reduced to ash, their wealth distributed and their bodies cut for parts and no one batted an eye. Yet there was one thing that held true and always would, no matter the innovations accepted within the organization.
The family was sacred.
Including the men and women with no blood relation. There was a code of conduct required, respect demanded. And without honor, there was nothing.
All acts of betrayal were handled swiftly.
And above all, women were considered sacred.
