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Dismissed (Smirnov Bratva Book 4) by T.L Smith (1)

Prologue

Two Months Ago

Samara

 

The night was not going according to plan, everything in my life was not going according to plan. I was over it. I was drunk. Two drinks was all it took for my feet to want to lift from the floor and lay up on my nice soft bed to sleep. That was definitely what I wanted and needed.

Instead, I was stuck at a club which was so packed my eyes started to blur. Or was that from the alcohol? I couldn’t tell. I didn’t care nor was I concerned for the people I was here with. How did I end up being dragged here with a bunch of people I only speak to when I’m taking my clothes off?

Fuck! The life of a stripper.

A hand landed on my lower back as I decided I needed air. My body sprung forward—that hand was unwelcome—the touch not of a delicate woman’s hand who I was expecting. Scowling, I turned around and a man who looked about as drunk as I was, was raising his eyebrows at me. Then he proceeded to look me up and down like a piece of meat. There was not one ounce of class in his look or even any type of sex appeal for that matter.

Gosh, what I wouldn’t have given to be fucked hard right at that moment.

Shaking my head, I stepped backward. My heels, which were extremely high, landed on something soft. A groan followed that padding beneath my heel. A set of hands were on my hips lifting me—literally lifting me in the air to remove me from the padding. Turning around the moment my heels touched the floor, I came face to face with a man who oozed sex appeal. I could smell the sex oozing from him. Then he opened his mouth, and my finger shot up to shut him up.

“Fuck me!”

I shook my head as my finger touched his mouth. “You… you fuck me?” I asked in my best sultry voice. I really needed sex, and well, he had to be the best-looking man I’d seen in a very long time, or ever. It dripped from him.

He didn’t tell me no. Instead, he took my hand and started pulling me through the crowd.

My heels felt heavy, but my pussy was throbbing. For him.

Fuck.

How long had it been? Six months?

Shit! I think it had been a year.

You’d think being a stripper I would be having sex whenever I pleased because let’s face it the market was there. But unfortunately for me, I was picky. Lucky for this man, though, he was my top pick. Honestly, he would be in my top five of hottest men.

Gosh, and I just told him to fuck me.

It must have been the alcohol. Generally, I never drank. Ever.

There was a reason for that, and this wasn’t it.

Why did I drink so much tonight? Because sometimes my life was just too much, that’s why.

The cold air hit my skin as he walked up to a shiny black car. I looked down at my dress thinking, Am I too dirty to get in it? The gorgeous car seemed too clean and too expensive for my ass, and even more to the point, my ass had never sat on something worth the price tag of this exceptional vehicle.

No words left my mouth as he ushered me in, then he shut the door and walked around to his side sliding in and starting up the car. My mouth opened and closed to say something, but instead I shook my head. This was a one-night stand, and one-night stands happened all the time. I’d had a one-night stand before—maybe not with someone who looked quite like this man, though.

“Name?” he asked me, breaking my thoughts.

“Jade,” I lied, it fell straight from my lips so easily.

“Anton,” he said, pulling the car to a stop.

The house was a mansion. It was huge, possibly the biggest I’d ever seen.

Anton slid out while I continued to sit in the car. While looking up—my eyes probably bulging from my head at the sight before me—he walked around to my side, opened the door and offered me his hand.

“We fucking?” His words were vulgar, but truthful.

I infinitesimally shake my head. Isn’t this what I came here for?

Offering him my hand, he pulled me out and into the house. The minute the door shut behind me, he was on me. Anton’s hand was in my hair, his other on my ass squeezing it tightly. His lips were on mine, kissing me, making me forget exactly where we were.

Feeling the need to pull away and tell him I needed to leave, he pushed his body on mine, and the moment he came into contact all bets were off. I could feel him, right where I needed him—he was hard and I was wet.

My hands started tugging at his shirt, then his pants. He obliged pulling at his clothes, then he drew my dress up as he lifted me. Both of his hands on my ass and his lips on my neck as he walked with me up the stairs and into a darkened room. I lost sight of him as his body disappeared, making me groan.

A small desk lamp flicked on, and his naked body stalked toward me.

Intimidating, was my first thought.

Muscles, tattoos, more muscles, and that smirk? He was about to eat me alive, figuratively speaking.

Hands everywhere.

Tongues in places that made you scream out a man’s name.

Kisses that brought you back down to earth.

Then a cock that made you high as a fucking kite.

Anton wasn’t soft, he wasn’t kind. He took, he gave, until we were both utterly exhausted.

The moment he closed his eyes, and soft breathing left his mouth, I sat up and looked down at him.

I could never have a man like him, I thought. I shouldn’t even try.

So I left.

 

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