Read Online Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance by Meg Watson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Meg Watson
something… Thank you? Maybe ask their last names? I want to tell them this is not at all what I expected. I thought it would be awful, and it turns out to be absolutely magical.
But I know that's absurd. You probably shouldn't just start babbling right at this moment, right?
After a few minutes, I realize I'm going to fall asleep if I don't do something. They probably want me to leave. I probably should leave. I think that's what people are supposed to do.
Pushing myself away from them, pulling apart swathes of skin that seem glued together, I slowly try to sneak off the bed. They’re both breathing heavily, almost snoring. It sounds like a bear’s hibernation den, and is just as musky.
I pad toward the bathroom in my bare feet, my thoughts tumbling over each other in my head like water over rocks. It feels like a dream. Like a crazy, utterly insane dream.
In the bathroom, I finally dare to turn on the light. I'm a little bit of a mess. My hair is crazy, sticking up diagonally from the left side of my head in knots and snarls. And yet, I can't help but feel proud of every weird kink in my hair, the black smudge of mascara under my eyes, the red streaks on my neck and breasts and arms and waist where I was kissed so hard they almost broke the skin.
I stare at myself for a few long seconds. Look at me, a new woman. Brand-new. In a strange way, I feel a sort of ownership over my body that I never felt before.
I take a quick moment to pee and clean myself up, wincing at the soreness that's already settling into the skin. I'm definitely going to be feeling that for a couple days.
But it was totally worth it. After swiping at my face with tissues and washing my hands, using my wet fingers to comb through my hair until I sort of look like myself again, I think I'm ready to do what I'm supposed to do next.
Opening the bathroom door slowly, I figure they’re probably asleep and I don't want to wake them. The light floods the room, tracing out a triangle on the patterned carpet. Carefully I tiptoe back to the bed, squinting to try to locate my dress and panties.
For some reason, I feel like I need to turn away when I get dressed. I slide my panties back on and knot the strings. It takes a moment to get the zipper all the way back up my dress but I manage it and then grab my handbag and shoes in one arm.
Turning around, I bite my lip and prepare a brief, dignified, whispered goodbye. Then I stop. My breath stalls in my throat. My heart beats twice, loud enough someone should have heard it, but they are still asleep.
Everything goes cold. There they are, laid out on the shiny satin bedspread, a tangle of arms and legs spread out and relaxed. The men I just slept with. Roman is closest. He's covered in tattoos from his knees, all the way up to just below his collarbone and then snaking down his arms. Shape after shape, layered on top of each other in strange patterns. Bones, spiderwebs. Words in Cyrillic characters. More words. Skulls. Is Alek the same? I can’t tell because I can’t look anymore. I have to stop.
I know those tattoos. Russian tattoos. They’re Russian mob. They have to be.
Oh my God, what have I done?
----
CHAPTER 5
ROMAN
When I wake up, the girl is gone. I didn't expect her to stay, of course, but it still feels sort of strange that she just disappeared. I must have fallen asleep while she was still here which is something I don't think I've ever done in my life. Usually I like to watch them fall asleep and then leave while they’re passed out, before any questions can come up.
Once, I think Alek dozed off but I know I've never simply slept all night and just let a woman decide on her own whether or not to stay. I don’t want them deciding whether or not to go through my things or maybe leave a bullet in one of our heads as a thank you.
Strange, to say the least.
Hungry and cotton-headed, I leave Alek still snoring on the bed head for the shower. The room is nice. Bathroom is nice. The last
But I know that's absurd. You probably shouldn't just start babbling right at this moment, right?
After a few minutes, I realize I'm going to fall asleep if I don't do something. They probably want me to leave. I probably should leave. I think that's what people are supposed to do.
Pushing myself away from them, pulling apart swathes of skin that seem glued together, I slowly try to sneak off the bed. They’re both breathing heavily, almost snoring. It sounds like a bear’s hibernation den, and is just as musky.
I pad toward the bathroom in my bare feet, my thoughts tumbling over each other in my head like water over rocks. It feels like a dream. Like a crazy, utterly insane dream.
In the bathroom, I finally dare to turn on the light. I'm a little bit of a mess. My hair is crazy, sticking up diagonally from the left side of my head in knots and snarls. And yet, I can't help but feel proud of every weird kink in my hair, the black smudge of mascara under my eyes, the red streaks on my neck and breasts and arms and waist where I was kissed so hard they almost broke the skin.
I stare at myself for a few long seconds. Look at me, a new woman. Brand-new. In a strange way, I feel a sort of ownership over my body that I never felt before.
I take a quick moment to pee and clean myself up, wincing at the soreness that's already settling into the skin. I'm definitely going to be feeling that for a couple days.
But it was totally worth it. After swiping at my face with tissues and washing my hands, using my wet fingers to comb through my hair until I sort of look like myself again, I think I'm ready to do what I'm supposed to do next.
Opening the bathroom door slowly, I figure they’re probably asleep and I don't want to wake them. The light floods the room, tracing out a triangle on the patterned carpet. Carefully I tiptoe back to the bed, squinting to try to locate my dress and panties.
For some reason, I feel like I need to turn away when I get dressed. I slide my panties back on and knot the strings. It takes a moment to get the zipper all the way back up my dress but I manage it and then grab my handbag and shoes in one arm.
Turning around, I bite my lip and prepare a brief, dignified, whispered goodbye. Then I stop. My breath stalls in my throat. My heart beats twice, loud enough someone should have heard it, but they are still asleep.
Everything goes cold. There they are, laid out on the shiny satin bedspread, a tangle of arms and legs spread out and relaxed. The men I just slept with. Roman is closest. He's covered in tattoos from his knees, all the way up to just below his collarbone and then snaking down his arms. Shape after shape, layered on top of each other in strange patterns. Bones, spiderwebs. Words in Cyrillic characters. More words. Skulls. Is Alek the same? I can’t tell because I can’t look anymore. I have to stop.
I know those tattoos. Russian tattoos. They’re Russian mob. They have to be.
Oh my God, what have I done?
----
CHAPTER 5
ROMAN
When I wake up, the girl is gone. I didn't expect her to stay, of course, but it still feels sort of strange that she just disappeared. I must have fallen asleep while she was still here which is something I don't think I've ever done in my life. Usually I like to watch them fall asleep and then leave while they’re passed out, before any questions can come up.
Once, I think Alek dozed off but I know I've never simply slept all night and just let a woman decide on her own whether or not to stay. I don’t want them deciding whether or not to go through my things or maybe leave a bullet in one of our heads as a thank you.
Strange, to say the least.
Hungry and cotton-headed, I leave Alek still snoring on the bed head for the shower. The room is nice. Bathroom is nice. The last
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