The Cleaner (Chicago Bratva #7) Read Online Renee Rose

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Insta-Love, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Chicago Bratva Series by Renee Rose
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Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
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Perfect. Time to make my getaway.

I twist and turn my wrists, pulling, pushing, wiggling.

Fuck.

It’s tighter than I hoped, but there’s still some room. I can do this. I can totally do this. It hurts, it’s too tight, but I just might be able to get it over my thumb if I…yes! I slip one hand out with a low moan of triumph. I’m free. I wrestle the other hand free and leap off the bed.

Where’s my backpack purse? I grab it, digging through for my phone. The water in the shower shuts off. Eek! I need clothes. I keep rummaging for my phone as I race over to the door where I’d kicked my heels off last night. I stuff one foot in.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A wet, angry Russian stalks toward me with a towel around his waist.

I freeze then throw open the door.

It’s too late.

He slams it shut before I get through it and catches me by the throat. “You’re in big trouble now.” He holds me pinned against the door. My purse drops to the floor.

He’s not out of breath like I am, nor does he seem particularly surprised or disappointed. I also note that he hasn’t squeezed the fingers around my throat. Not enough to choke me, anyway.

Of course, he needs me alive.

Or does he? A chill runs through me as I realize that he’s not holding me for ransom. Not really. He wants to kill my dad.

But this guy wouldn’t kill me unless he had to. I’m sure about that.

At least…I think I am. He did give me his full name, which could indicate he doesn’t plan to let me walk.

“Are you going to punish me, Daddy?” I taunt him, knowing he hates the name.

“Definitely.”

I shiver at the way he says it with no hesitation. Like he’d already planned to, even before I tried to twist this into a sex game.

“I’m going to spank you until you cry, little girl.”

Heat floods my pelvis, pouring down my inner thighs. I hate and love the threat at the same time.

I think about trying to knee him in the balls again, but he must read my mind because he spins me around to face the door and pins my hands to the door over my head. He pulls up the back of his shirt to bare my ass and smacks my ass on the right and left several times, hard.

My pussy clenches. It hurts, but it’s also sexy to me.

He is playing my game. There’s nothing harmful about the punishment. He’s just using his hand. It may sting and smart a bit, but I seriously doubt it could make me cry.

“Were you running out with no panties, dietka?” He delivers another flurry of spanks to my ass, alternating one side then the other.

I push my ass out because he’s definitely playing my game. He’s talking about going out without panties, not about me trying to escape. Not about tricking him into not securing me tight enough.

I don’t think he’s even mad.

I let out a soft whimper but try to stay in place, stay still. I like this far too much. All the fear and adrenaline from trying to escape is now morphing into white-hot lust. Adrian doesn’t hold back–not like he did last night. There’s no stopping and rubbing in between.

It is quickly too much. Still not cry-worthy or anything but burning and dance-around worthy. I gasp, my pussy dripping honey as he sets my ass on fire.

I’m a little light-headed when he stops abruptly. He grips my wet hair and tugs my head back. “Bad. Girl.”

I almost come. So close. I felt a tremor, a twinge.

He holds me there like that for a moment, my wrists pinned on the door by one of his hands, my hair pulled back with the other. My nipples are hard, burning points against his loose soft shirt. My pulse hammers.

We’re going to have sex now.

I hope he’s as rough in bed as he is out of it.

I’ll bet he is.

I tremble with excitement, with endorphins.

He pulls me away from the door and walks me back to the bed, still holding my wrists above my head and fisting my hair.

“Lie down,” he barks, releasing me and giving me a shove.

I don’t like that he let go of me. It feels wrong. But I climb on the bed, getting on my belly and spreading my legs, sort of wanting to keep the punish-y feel going.

Adrian zip ties my wrists together–way too tightly–and fastens them to the headboard, stretching me into a backbend to keep them there.

I wince as I lean into them to get my knees under me and make myself more comfortable. Now my ass is out for him, ready.

And that’s when he walks away.

5

Adrian

I can’t do it. I know she wants me to satisfy her.



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