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Dad liked to say that I was antisocial. I wasn’t. I’m not. I’ve just always been . . . socially awkward.
Same girl same.
Maybe I could try seducing him, and then get away when his guard is down. Yeah, right. I almost snicker out loud at the thought of Angelina Sandoval, a book nerd and local weirdo, who’s slept with exactly one man in her twenty-two years, becoming a queen of seduction. He would laugh at me if I tried.
“What?” I light a cigarette and take a big drag. “Pasha was into the underground fight scene when he was young. I told you he could take on any of your men.”
His hands vanish from my body, and he’s gone the next moment, leaving me in the middle of the room, standing on an assortment of genuine leather-bound Dostoyevsky hardcovers, with my panties completely drenched.
Ugh I hate when that happens!
“I want you to look at me while I come inside you,” he whispers and covers my body with his, entering me again. I loop my legs around him and squeeze. “Why?” His cock slides out then slams into me. “Because, when you look at me, I remember I’m still alive.”
“That reminds me. Albert asked me to tell you that a package arrived for you yesterday. He put it in the living room.” I lower my head to whisper in her ear. “He said he looked inside and found a bunch of paperbacks with naked men on the covers, and now, he thinks you read porn.”
“You’re the only thing that keeps my darkness away, lisichka.” I kiss her shoulder. “If, one day, you decide you’ve had enough of my shit, just leave and never look back. And make sure you hide very well.”
When I look back at Sergei, he’s standing over the body of the last soldier, blood dripping from a long knife in his hand, talking into his headpiece. He throws a look at the man Nana and I just shot, then turns toward us and raises his thumb. Yeah, he might be a little whacky, but I love him anyway.
LMAOOOO
