Seeking Prince Charming (6 page)

~*~*~*~

Reed felt her hesitation and fear and had it not been for how hot and wet she was for him when he’d stroked her pussy he would have considered waiting until they were somewhere private. As he slipped his shaft from his pants and slowly ran it up her thigh and heard her gasp and low moan, there was no turning back – not until his cum was shooting deep into her soft core.

As the head of his cock reached her moist pussy lips her body trembled and she softly moaned his name. Spreading her labia, he slipped the head of his dick between her velvety folds, running it back and forth along her slit until she was moaning louder than she really should be considering where they were.

“Please.”

He paused his teasing, lining the tip of his dick up to the entrance of her core. “Please what? Tell me what you want.” When she hesitated to answer, he slipped his free hand around to her front and began to stroke her clit. She groaned and bucked back against him. “Please what? I want to hear you say it.”

“Fuck me, Reed. Please fuck me!”

He groaned, unable to hold back a single second longer and slammed himself deep into her – harder than he’d planned, but damn he’d held himself back much longer than he’d planned and his cock was aching, demanding release. The feel of her as she took him in, her pussy stretching to accommodate his girth was incredible. He took a moment to savour the feel of their bodies united.

“Reed, oh God, Reed!” She moved against him, urging him to begin thrusting. She felt like velvet, her pussy constricting around him each time he thrust, milking his dick. With each thrust she’d whimper or moan; the sweet, sexy sounds she made were almost as arousing as the feel of her – almost.

He leaned over her, his lips tracing the fine line of her neck, nipping at the soft, sweet-smelling flesh. “Come on my cock, baby. I want to feel it.”

She body trembled under him. “Reed….” His name moaned from her lips sent a chill through him and his cock jerked inside of her and he groaned with her. Determined to feel her cunt tremble for him, he pinched her swollen clit between his fingertips as he began slamming into her deeper and harder with each thrust, making sure that each thrust rubbed against her g-spot.

She cried out again, her fingers clawing at the hood of the car as she began to move with him, pushing back and meeting each of his thrusts.

“Shhhh.” He nipped at her earlobe. “Don’t make me have to gag you.”

She didn’t quiet, if anything she got louder, but he was beyond the point of caring. If she didn’t come soon, he feared he’d have to either pull out or come without her, the ache in his balls was demanding relief soon. Straightening up, he looked down and watched as his cock slid in and out of her, the mix of their fluids gleaming in the moonlight.

“Close, so close,” she gasped. The words had barely left her lips when her pussy contracted around his shaft a final time and she screamed out as a gush of her juices flooded his invading rod.

“Oh fuck, I love your pussy baby!” He pulled out and a droplet of her juices dripped onto his balls, which was his undoing. Gripping her hips, he slammed into her a final time, shoving her into the side of the car, and with a low groan gave in. The flood of relief and pleasure that washed over him was so intense he had to grab onto the hood of the car to keep from collapsing over her.

Several spurts of cum rushed into her core, and just when he thought it was over she moaned once more, her core clenching and her body trembling under his. Another gush of her juices mixed with his cum, surrounding his embedded cock. He let out an unsteady breath as he laid his forehead against the back of her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he murmured, kissing the back of her neck.

“Uh-huh.” She looked over her shoulder and he brushed his lips across hers.

He was about to deepen the kiss, but the feeling of their fluids slowly slipping past his spent dick reminded him of where they were and that they needed to get dressed. “Mmm, maybe you were right and we should have waited until we got home. I’m dying to see you naked and under me.” With great reluctance he pulled out and slipped her skirt back down over her hips. He was putting himself away when voices could be heard around the corner of the building and getting closer by the second.

She turned her back to the car, adjusting her skirt as he took a step back. “Who says we can’t have an encore performance back at my place?” She stepped up to him, slipping her arms around his neck and pressing her body tight to him.

A grin spread across his lips and while he wasn’t close to being ready at the moment, the thought of indulging in her in a more intimate setting caused a stir within him. Sliding his arms around her waist, he held her tight. “What about your roommate?”

She returned his smile. “What’s the chances that Corey hasn’t told her about us?”

“Zero.”

She stretched up and nipped at his lower lip. “Then she’s a non-issue. Besides, they’re still in there, I have a feeling she won’t be coming home anyhow.”

Reed lowered his forehead to hers. “Is it too soon to tell you I’ll falling for you?”

“Yes.”

Reed frowned.

“But considering I’m falling for you as well who am I to judge?”

Reed pulled back from her and brushed a stray lock of dark hair from her face. Of all the women in all the world he’d never have guessed the woman he’d eventually fall for would be his former stepsister, Chloe Bennett. It just goes to show, sometimes true love can be right in front of you – you just have to open your eyes and see it. 

The End

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Excerpt from

Secrets

By

Terry Towers

Available Now

Prologue

Anastasia

I could hardly believe what I’d just done. My entire body froze in a state of shock as I looked down at my husband’s limp body at my feet. It wasn’t until the remainder of the broken crystal vase slipped from my fingertips and the remaining glass shattered as it hit the floor that I was jolted from my state of horror.

“Please God, don’t let him be dead.” As I silently prayed he’d still be alive, a part of me wanted nothing more than to see him gone from this earth for good. I’d have done the world a service if he were. My husband, of just shy of two years, was a true monster of a man. Despite a part of me longing to see the earth rid of him for good, it couldn’t be by my hand. Admittedly, I was weak and didn’t have it in me to do it. I’d been a lot of things and done a lot of things to survive in my meager twenty-two years on this earth, but being a murderer wasn’t one of them.

Dropping to my knees beside him I pressed my fingers to the side of his neck and let out a sigh of relief; his pulse was strong. I’d only knocked him out. However, the three-inch bleeding slash on his left cheek defiling his otherwise devilishly handsome face would no doubt scar, a lifetime reminder of his wife’s betrayal. 

“Mamo, are you okay? Mamo!” I turned to see Ura, my beautiful five-year-old son, stepping into my bedroom, his blue eyes wide with concern as he looked at me and then down at the man he’d considered his father for the past couple of years. “What’s wrong with Daddy?”

He took a step into the bedroom and I raised my palm to him, stopping him in his tracks. “Go to your room, Ura. Go to your room and pack as much of your favourite toys in a bag as possible, okay, baby? And your clothes. All your favourite clothes.”

“Why, Mamo?” Ignoring my warning he took another step into the room. His brow furrowed as his eyes caught sight of my face and pointed at me. I could feel my lip beginning to swell and the tenderness around my right eye. “What happened? Daddy do that? Daddy hurt you again?”

Again
. I cringed at his choice of the word.

“What happened to Daddy?” The look of concern and confusion in his expression deepened.

“We had a little accident, Ura, now do as you’re told and gather your toys, NOW!” I lowered my face, blocking his view of my injuries. I’d been trying so damned hard to keep the bruises and scars from my son, but they’d been becoming more frequent and more intense lately. It was becoming incredibly hard to hide them from the world – what little bit of the world my husband permitted me to see, that was. I went where I was told to go, when I was told to go there, and always under the supervision of my husband or one of his goons. I wasn’t a wife – I was a slave masquerading as a wife.

The blonde-haired boy hesitated, took one more look at my husband and nodded his head in agreement. “Da, Mamo.”

Surprised to hear him answer in Ukrainian, our mother tongue with a perfect accent, my head jerked back around to watch him exit the bedroom. He barely spoken a word of Ukrainian since we arrived in Miami. Ukrainian was forbidden to be spoken here; Russian and English were the only acceptable languages in Alexander Vetrov’s home.

I looked down at my husband and sighed. How long before he woke back up? I had no clue. He’d hit me so hard a couple of times recently that I’d been out cold for over a half an hour. But that was me, a hundred and twenty pound, 5’6 female after being struck by a large, muscular man. Not wanting to take any chances I rushed to the closet and pulled out the “pleasure trunk” as Alexander liked to refer to it as, filled to the brim with various BDSM toys. His pleasure, but certainly not mine and I had the scars – quite literally – to prove it. With Alexander there were no “safe words,” the games ended when he was ready to end them or I passed out and not a moment sooner. 

Opening the trunk with trembling hands I found a couple of pairs of handcuffs and rushed back to him. With great effort I managed to pull his body close enough to the cast iron radiator that I was able to cuff him to it. He was a strong man, but there was no way he was breaking free from that radiator. The only way he was getting free was when the housekeeper came in in the morning and found him there.

I didn’t even want to consider the rage he’d be feeling when he was freed. But that would be fine, Ura and I would be long gone. If we stayed he’d kill us both, I was as certain of that as I was of taking my next breath.

Alexander Vetrov was never betrayed or humiliated by anyone without consequences and he sure as hell wouldn’t be by the person he considered his whore of a trophy wife, a wife he’d bought and brought to America for less than the price of a new Kia sedan.

Once Alexander was secure I grabbed a large suitcase and entered our massive walk-in closet. The closet was as big as the one-room apartment Ura and I had shared back in Ukraine before Alexander stepped into our lives. It was filled with hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of luxury designer clothes, everything from Hermes to Chanel and Gucci.

Growing up poor I didn’t need nor ask for those things, but Alexander insisted on it. Not only did he have to have the most beautiful of trophy wives he could buy, but she had to be the best dressed in the most expensive of designers. He claimed he was buying me these things to make me happy, but I knew the truth. The only person Alexander cared about was himself and his image of wealth and perfection – the perfect over-the-top mansion, the perfect car, the perfect wife, the perfect family. The beauty and perfection helped to hide the darkness within him from the world.

Opening the case on the floor I began pulling clothes from the neatly stacked piles and from the hangers. Without even bothering to look at what I was grabbing I tossed several pairs of shoes on top of the clothing and zipped it closed. With the suitcase full I grabbed a duffle bag and began tossing some of my jewelry, makeup and toiletries inside. When it was almost full I rushed from the bedroom with the duffle bag on my shoulder and pulling the heavy suitcase behind me, and I made my way into Alexander’s den.

Pulling the painting from the back wall, I uncovered his den safe. I’d noticed the code he’d pressed into the safe one day a few months back and made a mental note of it – just in case. In the back of my mind, for well over a year now, I knew this day would come. Quickly I pressed in the code and with a soft beep the safe acknowledged it and the door swung open. I’d hoped to see my and Ura’s passports and identification inside, but neither were. Bastard. However, there were a couple of bundles of cash, marked five thousand on each and numerous bundles wrapped in brown paper the size of bricks – cocaine. I took the cash and left the cocaine.

Ten thousand would last us a while, but with no identification and no way to get a legitimate job without Alexander tracking us down it wouldn’t last forever. I paused; was this the right choice? I was putting myself and Ura on the run, possibly for the rest of our lives. A lifetime of looking over our shoulders was a very long time. Going to the police was pointless, he had half of the Miami police on his payroll and that was only the bottom level of his contacts. Men like Alexander didn’t get charged with domestic abuse.

Maybe if I begged Alexander’s forgiveness…

I huffed. There was no mercy or kindness within my husband. He’d kill me and Ura and just replace me with a fresh new girl; a girl who had dreams of escaping her life of destitution for that of white knights and a marriage full of love and happiness, to have her dreams shattered by the reality. Like I had been.

I’d been young and foolish, full of dreams when Alexander found me and brought me to America, but now, at twenty-two years of age, I wasn’t either of those things any longer. My life with Alexander added years to me well beyond my actual age.

~*~*~*~

“Where we going, Mamo?” Ura asked as we looked up at the board of departures at the bus terminal.

I don’t know
, I silently answered him.

All I knew was that we needed out of Miami as soon as we could. We needed to put as much distance between us and Alexander as possible. We should have until morning before anyone rescued Alexander, but you could never know; his brother, a dirty cop taking money on the side from my husband, may show up at the house and let himself in. His bodyguard could show up and hear him screaming and break a window to rescue his boss. There were a thousand different scenarios that could play out. The quicker and the further we could get from Miami the better.

My eyes fell onto the listing for Bangor, Maine. It left in ten minutes. Would we be better off in a little city or in a large metropolis like New York City where a person could get lost in a sea of faces? But New York was expensive; we could live a lot better and for a lot longer in Maine with the cash I had stuffed in my duffle bag.

“Mamo?”

I looked down at my son and gave him a smile. “Bangor or New York, which one do you want to go to?”

Without hesitation he answered Bangor. Perhaps leaving him the decision of where we were going to run off to was a foolhardy choice, but it was as good as any. There were pros and cons to both cities.

“Then Bangor it is, любий.”

Ura beamed up at me, proud to be part of the decision-making process even though he was in the dark as to what was going on. To him this was just a fun adventure and I had no intention of enlightening him.