Jasmine
I can’t process anything, not with the sheer weight of hearing my own voice moaning repeatedly and remembering that drunken, possessive look in his eyes. Nor the overly sated feeling that surges through me and forces my legs to wobble.
‘You’re mine, Jasmine…’ Vladimir’s voice continues to echo in my head as I struggle to get my weak legs to my room door.
Drawing a deep breath, I pull the door open.
“Hey,” Walter calls, drawing my attention to the bed.
He’s lying flat on the bed, legs parted, with just his boxers on. Somehow he has managed to find the scented candles and lit them up, setting the mood.
My stomach drops.
“What took you so long?” he rises to his feet and walks to me to assist me to the bed.
“I—I,” I try to speak, but nothing comes out. The moment his f
