When you fall in love with a mafia leader, you know there is a danger....
but you never truly expect anything to happen...until it does.
Dirty, Bruised Martini by Nikki Bellaire is LIVE!
Grab this emotional roller-coaster TODAY!
but you never truly expect anything to happen...until it does.
Dirty, Bruised Martini by Nikki Bellaire is LIVE!
Grab this emotional roller-coaster TODAY!
SNEAK PEEK
You never could resist me when I talked about our wedding. About me becoming your wife.
Red velvet or marble cake? You said whatever I want.
Hydrangeas or dahlias? You said for me to choose.
Keep my maiden name or take yours? You said I need to remember who the fuck I belong to.
You had me up against the wall before I could blink, with my legs wrapped around your waist and your lips on my ear, growling about needing to remember who the fuck owns me. Owns this pussy. Owns this everything.
Urgent fingers slid under the hem of my dress and stroked my silky panties. Already drenched with anticipation for you. You liked that. You liked that a lot. Dipping inside me with only the satin separating us while a ragged moan vibrated in your throat.
But I wanted more. I was crazy, desperate for more of you. Lifting my hips to grind against your palm. Hoping you’d slide another finger into me. That you’d massage and rub and caress the places I needed you to touch the most. That you’d tease me until I came all over your hand. Well aware I was acting like a naughty, bad girl for you. Thinking dirty words I could never be brave enough to speak. Imagining filthy desires I was too timid to describe with my voice. Although I didn’t say them aloud, I thought them. For you. For myself. I needed you. I wanted you. Like no one ever before.
You answered my silent request by ripping off my purple sheath without any resistance from me. When your gaze traveled over my body, and you whispered, “Fuck, rosy girl.” I knew that’s exactly what you were going to do. And I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t get you inside of me fast enough.
Red velvet or marble cake? You said whatever I want.
Hydrangeas or dahlias? You said for me to choose.
Keep my maiden name or take yours? You said I need to remember who the fuck I belong to.
You had me up against the wall before I could blink, with my legs wrapped around your waist and your lips on my ear, growling about needing to remember who the fuck owns me. Owns this pussy. Owns this everything.
Urgent fingers slid under the hem of my dress and stroked my silky panties. Already drenched with anticipation for you. You liked that. You liked that a lot. Dipping inside me with only the satin separating us while a ragged moan vibrated in your throat.
But I wanted more. I was crazy, desperate for more of you. Lifting my hips to grind against your palm. Hoping you’d slide another finger into me. That you’d massage and rub and caress the places I needed you to touch the most. That you’d tease me until I came all over your hand. Well aware I was acting like a naughty, bad girl for you. Thinking dirty words I could never be brave enough to speak. Imagining filthy desires I was too timid to describe with my voice. Although I didn’t say them aloud, I thought them. For you. For myself. I needed you. I wanted you. Like no one ever before.
You answered my silent request by ripping off my purple sheath without any resistance from me. When your gaze traveled over my body, and you whispered, “Fuck, rosy girl.” I knew that’s exactly what you were going to do. And I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t get you inside of me fast enough.
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MORE ABOUT DIRTY, BRUISED MARTINI
I think about you when he f*cks me.
I think about you when he beats me.
I think about you when he whips me and tortures me and makes me bleed.
I think about you when he rapes me and then offers me to his friends - to the men who hate you almost as much as he does.
All I can hope, to keep myself going, is that sometimes you think about me too.
Dirty, Bruised Martini is a dark romance with multiple triggers. PLEASE do not read if this type of story is not for you.
I think about you when he f*cks me.
I think about you when he beats me.
I think about you when he whips me and tortures me and makes me bleed.
I think about you when he rapes me and then offers me to his friends - to the men who hate you almost as much as he does.
All I can hope, to keep myself going, is that sometimes you think about me too.
Dirty, Bruised Martini is a dark romance with multiple triggers. PLEASE do not read if this type of story is not for you.
✮ DIRTY, BRUISED MARTINI is Now LIVE!!! ✮
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Nikki writes contemporary romantic thrillers and admits to a weakness for alpha males and bad boys, especially ones who can't live without the strong women they love. She spends more time in her characters' lives than her own. But, when she's in the real world, her passions include reading, wine appreciating, running, and spending time with her husband and daughter.
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