Unleashed Syn – Dark Organized Crime Novella Read Online Xavier Neal

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Mafia, Novella Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
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And in some cases, is actually successful in his pursuit.

After a presentation so lovely it moves many to tears – self included – we migrate to the reception area, share appetizers, cocktails, take photos of Kat with the monstrous bouquet of roses I had delivered along with the food, and grant her additional time with her friends.

Getting the kids home is easy.

Getting them in separate baths is slightly harder.

Yet getting them into bed is the battle that I swear they’re most determined to win. We tackle the tedious task together, pulling out every tool possible to get Vlad to sleep and a worn out but bubbling with excitement Kat to stay in her bed. Remy bargains to read our daughter one more round of books prompting me to give them some space for the bonding that they don’t always have the luxury to engage in.

I decide to use our time apart to do something I haven’t in far too long. With a bit of assistance from Rosa – who takes it upon herself to remind me that couples need these types of moments – I gather the extra items, I’m looking for, strip down to just my white boxer briefs, and begin what I’m hoping will be a well-received gesture.

My wife’s shoulders hitting her stilettos the instant she crosses the threshold into our recently cleaned bedroom indicates my actions are – most likely – going to be well received. Presenting her with the leash that’s already attached to the studded collar around my neck known to be used for punishment pleasure is followed by submissively lowering my head. “Minun Herrani.”

Remy doesn’t hesitate to transfer the item into her possession.

And there’s no reluctance to reward me for the offering by threading her fingers through my hair.

“Ya sdelal tebe vannu.” My docile position remains. “Has bubbles.”

As much as I would love to see her smirk over hearing I’ve run her a bath, I maintain my pose.

Continue to present my surrender.

“You wanna bathe me?”

“Want to show you love, Minun Herrani.” Silence from her pushes me to add. “Respect.” Still not receiving a reply is what prompts me to use the one word I know she’ll always respond to. “Loyalty.”

Remy’s fingertips suddenly steal a stroke upward from the white boxer briefs I’m wearing to the space underneath my chin. The moment she has my stare, she investigates, “Where is your wedding collar?”

“Dresser.”

“Ring?”

“Beside it.”

“Why?”

“Not deserve to wear during this time.”

The explanation appears to please her given the small glimmer I catch in her glare. “You may lead me to the tub, Pet.”

Thrilled but smart enough not to show it, I merely tip my chin further down in acknowledgement and guide us towards the romantic, candlelight creation I prayed wouldn’t be going to waste. The path of rose petals we follow I believe is well received courtesy of the faint, happy hums that hit my ears, yet it’s the heavy, sweet sigh, which reverberates around our luxury ensuite bathroom that’s proof, my sentimental intentions are welcomed.

Even perhaps appreciated.

Our stopping right on top of the soft, red pile occurs at the same time my wife teases, “Did you steal these from Kat’s bouquet?”

“Net,” I chuckle, stare remaining cast downward, “know better. Malen'kaya balerina would notice. Have mama eye for details.”

The tiniest giggle winds around my lungs and unforgivingly squeezes.

Stops my ability to breathe.

Think.

Do anything other than revel in a sound I haven’t heard in much too long.

“May Pet undress Minun Herrani?”

“Manners.”

“Please.” There’s no denying the desperation in my voice. “May Pet please undress Minun Herrani?”

“Eyes.”

I ignore the way my chest tightens as our gazes lock and how mercilessly my heart pounds against my ribcage.

Demanding to be free.

Commanding that I put it back in her hands where it belongs.

Where it’s always belonged.

Where it will always belong.

Even after death.

“Yes, Pet,” the leash falls from her loose grasp, “you may.”

What should be a short and simple process, I purposely prolong out of fear that she may never truly forgive me for the crime I committed leaving me to long for the relationship we had versus the fractured one I know is my fault.

Peeling off the fitted red quarter sleeve dress would be a more time-consuming course of action if the piece of clothing had buttons or zippers or even Velcro. It’s lack of additional items to work with strips me of the proper opportunity to drink in Remy’s long, dark gold, caramel brown legs and her heavenly hips that have widened in the process of extending our bloodlines. Not having clasps to pretend to struggle over undoing severs the chance to lightly caress the skin on her stomach. Chest. The most I’m left receiving during the removal of the outfit is a stolen, feathery touch of her neck as the material grazes against it.

Shock doesn’t bother entering my system over my wife’s lack of wearing anything underneath the discarded attire.



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