All Chapters of Lost in Moscow's Secret : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

 RONAN “WHEN SOMEONE CALLS YOU A whore, you get the fuck out of their bed,” I growled. “It’s called having a little self-respect.”Did I have to teach this girl the basics before she went home to Miami and let men degrade her? Simply the thought sent a violent fire up my back, searing me with the claim only I was allowed to degrade her.“I don’t need your respect.” Her soft American accent crept beneath my skin, slid downward, and grabbed ahold of my cock just as I imagined her hand would.My gaze hardened. “You don’t know what you need.” “Maybe not, but I do know what I want.”It was clear what that was, but I found myself asking anyway. “And what do you want?” “Right now . . . you.”Fuck. That wasn’t what I expected her to say. I anticipated a silent blush or for her to ask for an orgasm. Not me, her goddamn kidnapper. And right after I insulted her no less—which was a reflex to get her out of my bed before I took wh

MY EYES OPENED TO A dark room, and confusion ran rampant until I saw the black sheet covering me and remembered I was in Ronan’s room. In his bed. With his body heat at my back. The clock on the nightstand said two-thirty a.m., which meant I was only asleep for thirty minutes before waking with a full bladder.The previous hours turned in my head. I’d anticipated sex and then for Ronan to slap my ass on my way out the door. I didn’t expect for himto say I was perfect and then kiss me until I fell asleep. I hadn’t known he had that kind of softness in him. It was more than I thought I’d ever get. So why did I feel so . . . empty?God, I really was an emotional fuck.Quietly, I pulled the sheets back and slid off the bed. When my feet touched the floor, I turned to glance at him. My heart grew heavy at the sight.He slept on his back, an armabove his head. He looked so human, so vulnerable, so handsome, it stole my breath to even look at him.Madame Richie’s laugh resounded in my m

MILAIWOKE AMONG BLACK SHEETS and a woodsy scent that consumed every one of my senses. Ronan sat in a chair beside the bed. His eyes were lowered, and his elbows rested on his knees as he twisted my heart-shaped earring between his thumb and forefinger. A single turn of the synthetic diamond symbolized our relationship: He held my heart in the palm of his hand, bringing it out to play sometimes before putting it back in his pocket to be forgotten.He wasn’t aware I was awake, and I took the opportunity to view his private moment. Still in nothing but his briefs, his hair glinted blue in the sunlight and was mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it all night. He was ink and vengeance and so very human beneath cold, steel armor.In Moscow, cartoon hearts danced in my eyes when I saw him. Now, in this wintery Russian fortress, the sight of himcreated a sharp ache in my chest that threatened to rip me in half.I wondered if Ronan’s conscience was responsible for him changing h

Sweat ran rivulets down my back, my long hair was damp and stuck to my skin, and my muscles embodied jelly, moldable and pliant as Ronan put me through every sexual position known to mankind. We would have gone through three condoms by now—if we were using them at least. Not that I didn’t try to encourage it.“Wait,” I’d breathed nearly two hours ago before Ronan pushed inside of me. “Condom.” “You have an IUD.”“Condoms are for more than birth control.”“I’ve already been inside you bare. If I have something, you do too.” “That’s comforting.”He chuckled roughly. “I’m clean, kotyonok.” Then he filled me so perfectly my eyes rolled back, and my brain shut down.Now, I was on my back with my legs over his shoulders while he fucked me so hard I’d feel him next week. My moans trembled with every thrust, my nails digging into his thick thighs. He was less human and more like D’yavol when he fucked. He seemed to have a never-ending stamina and a criminal sort of purpose, as if he was

MILA THE SUN SHINED, CASTING A bright sheen behind my closed eyes, and rolled me in the soft warmth of heaven. Though the soreness between my thighs was the embodiment of Satan’s haremitself.I opened my eyes to find myself alone in D’yavol’s bed. I stared at the ceiling while the memory of yesterday returned with a vengeance.I didn’t think Ronan noticed my mini-meltdown in the shower—or maybe he did, and that was why he took the initiative to wash me himself. My hair, my body . . . but not my conscience.My mind worked backward, the memory hitting rewind from the moment I came, my head thrown back, beneath the spray of the shower. Each thrust had slid me up the shower wall, my thighs wrapped around his hips. Heavy breaths and Russian words. Stars on his shoulders. Stars in my eyes.I’d dropped to my feet, spun around, and rose to my tiptoes. He slid inside me from behind. My forehead rolled against the wall, my fingers sliding down the stone. His hand on my throat; his lips at