Sinful Intentions (The Bobrov Bratva #2) Read Online Shandi Boyes

Categories Genre: Dark, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: The Bobrov Bratva Series by Shandi Boyes
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Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
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“I wasn’t asking you.” I step closer to the unnamed redhead before repeating, “How old are you?”

Before she can be interrupted again, I slant my head and cock a brow at the man who needs to cover up before he scars me for life. I now understand why he has to pay to get off—he has a cashew for a dick.

“And you better pray she says something over the age of sixteen, or you’re going to find more than my boot up your ass.”

Sixteen is the legal age in Russia, but that isn’t why I picked that age. I went with it because it is the age of the youngest virgin I claimed since I became an adult.

When I shift my focus back to the redhead, she swallows harshly before murmuring, “Sixteen.” I arch and arch and arch my brow more until she succumbs to my silent threat. “Th-thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” When she nods, I cuss. She is younger than even I thought.

Ilya holds his hands up in a non-defensive manner when I disperse my anger onto the right person. “She’s from the last shipment. She is one of your girls. I-I don’t check their ages when they come from you. You usually do it for us.”

I cuss again. He’s right. I always check the ages of the women in the orlop—usually stringently—but Katie’s unexpected consignment altered things. I dropped the baton, so now I have to clean up my fucking mess.

“Give me your wallet.”

“W-what?” asks the man with the nut for a cock, stuttering.

“Your wallet. Give me your fucking wallet.” Forever impatient, I don’t wait for him to fulfill my demand. I yank it out of the trousers hanging at his feet, pull out every denomination I see and a platinum credit card, then hand them to the young girl. “Train station is half a mile that way. If you get picked up by anyone, tell them Alek sent you home. They won’t even look at you then.”

She appears in fear for her life, but it has nothing on the will to live, blazing through her heavily hooded gaze. After snatching up the bundle of bills and the man’s white undershirt, she hightails it into the corridor.

Ilya’s fists are clenched, and his jaw works through a stern grind, but he keeps his mouth shut. It is for the best. I’m not in the fucking mood to deal with him. Not when the blonde is finally being guided into the room.

She startles when she spots me before her focus shifts to the man with his dick hanging out—if you can call his mishap a dick.

Her attention diverts back to me when I murmur, “He was just leaving.” When I assist him to his feet with a rough tug on his arm, I mutter, “Minus my foot up his ass purely because he had no clue she was underage. Am I right?”

He nods so fast he almost stumbles over his feet. “I would have never... she wouldn’t have… I’m not like that… I have a daughter her age.”

“Shut up, Gerald. You’re not doing yourself any favors,” the blonde mutters while folding her arms over the generous globes of her breasts, practically hanging out for the world to see. One slipup, and her chest will be as bare as the day she was born.

“Friends?” I ask her, pissed as fuck and not afraid to make sure she is aware of that.

She locks her eyes with mine, the fear in them growing when she spots my peeved expression before she shakes her head. “It’s my first night here.”

“Sure it is.” I toss Gerald into the corridor more aggressively than needed before giving Ilya his marching orders.

“I…” He stops, then starts again, “I’ve got to stay. She is so top shelf she’s billed by the minute.”

“And you think I’m going to shaft you—”

Before I can finish my sentence, the blonde pushes me into the room until my ass lands on a plastic chair Gerald’s pasty white backside better not have gotten near, or I’ll hunt him down and gut him like a rabies-infested dog.

“You only paid for ten minutes, so you better not waste a second,” she murmurs before straddling my lap.

“I didn’t pay for shit.” That shifts her focus to my face. She was raking her eyes down my body, suddenly conscious it is as firm underhand as it looks under my clothing. “I never buy before I try.”

She appears sickened by my comment, but it doesn’t stop her from doing a move my baby sister called the table when she attended gymnastics. She flattens her palms onto the floor inches from my feet, then grinds her hips upward, bringing her fragrant-smelling pussy to within inches of my chin.

After teasing me long enough to imagine how good her body wash will taste, she throws her right leg over my head to join her left before she rolls over. She grips my ankles with her hands, then rubs her crotch against the rod thickening in my pants.


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