Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(65)

I still don’t take a full breath until he moves again, and then I gulp the cool air in by the mouthful. Their footsteps grow distant, and eventually, they disappear.

Cold seeps into my bones, and I’m too afraid to move my limbs, even after it has gone quiet. I wait for them to come back. And then I wait some more. For what I would guess to be two hours, I lie as still as I can. Until I know that I have no choice.

It’s now or never.

I have to move. I have to get to safety. I need a warm space, a phone, and every prayer in the world.





The lights in the distance feel close, but I know they are far away. This town is probably crawling with Nikolai’s men by now. My only hope is to find a nice hotel where I can hide in the bathroom for the night. At least I’ll be safe from the elements there.

But my nerves are shot, and my limbs are stiff as I travel through the park. I think I hear a twig snap behind me, and I freeze. Three seconds pass, and then four more. I want to believe it’s my imagination. I want to believe I haven’t made it this far in vain.

I forge on, and there isn’t another sound. Not a single one. But the things that go bump in the night are not the most dangerous predators. It’s the ones who are silent. It’s the thieves who come to steal you away without warning.

And there is no thief more skilled than Nikolai Kozlov.

I understand that when he cages me in his arms, his breath hot in my ear.

“And just where do you think you’re going, pet?”





Her pulse hammers against her throat as I drag her up the stairs to my bedroom. Filthy little liar. Covered in dirt and scratches, so desperate to get away from me. She calls me a sadist, and I laugh in her face.

“You have no idea, zvezda. I’ve been too kind to you. But if you wish, I can show you what a sadist really is.”

Her bottom lip trembles, and she refuses to look at me as she pleads. “Just let me leave.”

My palm blankets the delicate flesh of her throat. I could strangle her right now. I could end her life and this nonsense once and for all. Instead, my fingers wrap around her jaw.

“You don’t get to leave me,” I murmur against her lips. “The only way you’re leaving me, pet, is through death.”

“No,” she protests.

I force her down onto the bed and pin her body with my legs. She gasps when I produce my switchblade and flinches when I cut her shirt in half. With a sudden and pointless case of modesty, the princess attempts to cover her breasts with her palms.

Her hands are removed with force, and best left tied to the bedframe with the remnants of her shirt. She struggles against me, but already, her nipples are hard, and her tits are swollen for me. My palm flattens against her stomach and holds her in place while my teeth tug at her nipple.

She yelps and then whines when I lick her, soothing the hurt I caused. Her eyes squeeze shut because she is too proud to admit her defeat. It isn’t necessary, regardless. I can smell the arousal soaking through her panties already.

She doesn’t deserve my kindness. She doesn’t deserve to come. But I will remind her who she belongs to. I will keep this little doll for as long as I wish, locking her up and bringing her out to play as I see fit.

“Nika,” she begs.

I slap her tits. She cries out, and it stirs my cock, making me restless. I’m desperate to plunge inside her. I need to fuck her raw, over and over again, until she admits she is mine. It’s the only cure for my sickness. She is the only source of calm I have. Her warmth, and her scent, and her tender touches.

I hate her for making me weak. I hate her for fucking up everything that I planned. And most of all, I hate her for being the daughter of Manuel Valentini. I close my eyes and try to block it out, but I can’t.

My fingers move to her throat again, and this time, she looks into my eyes.

“Do it,” she whispers. “Set me free.”

I squeeze her and kiss her so violently she can’t breathe. My teeth clash with hers, and I taste blood. I lap at the bitter sweetness, desperate for more.

She whimpers, and I thrust my pelvis against her. There are still too many barriers between us. A problem solved when I tug off her leggings and unzip my pants.

“You don’t get to leave me.”

I pry her legs apart and slap her clit. She sucks in a breath between her teeth, yanking against her restraints with all that she has. I rub my swollen cock against her, coating myself in her wetness.

She shakes her head in denial, and I crawl up the length of her body, smearing the leaking arousal from my cock against her lips. They are sealed as tight as can be, and it only makes me harder. My little doll is stubborn. My little doll is beautiful. And my little doll is a savage for denying me when I need her this way.

“Take my cock,” I demand.

“Have your precious Ana do it.”

I pinch her nipple, and she bucks against me. “Don’t speak of her again.”

“Ana, Ana, Ana,” she screams.

I squeeze her jaw in my palm. “Take care of my cock, or I’ll find someone who will.”

Her eyes flare, and her cheeks color with crimson. She is jealous. She is possessive. And Nakya wants my cock all to herself.

“I hate you,” she says.

I pet her face and rub my cock over her lips, groaning. “But not as much as you love me.”