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Property Of a Millionaire

Property Of a Millionaire

Fanoffans6

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Synopsis: "I like to pull on your hair, see you struggle to breathe, watch you reach your climax, and then stop you from reaching your high." He said all of that without stopping and that made me shake in my fucking boots. "I-I, no?" I wasn't sure what to say when someone approaches you for a job and says that. "I don't like when people say no to me. I will be respected. You, Miles Stevenson, will respect me." His voice was cold as ice. His stare froze my insides. He got up from his desk and walked over to me in strong strides in a matter of seconds. He was dangerously attractive, his voice and tone were filled with a Russian accent, but it was barely there. Online, it read that his family was from Russia, he was born here but moved to America at the young age of 3. "You're a cute, small pet. I think I'll be taking you." He talked with no fear in his voice, he was straightforward when he talked. His large hand came up to my face and his thumb stroked my cheek and then moved back to my hair and tugged on it a bit. I nudged my head back as a moan came out my throat and past my lips. "There we go, you little masochist." He licked his lips and came down to my neck, kissing my sensitive skin. My hands flew up to his chest but he smacked them away and grabbed them. Placing them above my head, his smirk only grew when I closed my eyes and groaned as his leg went up against my growing manhood. That got Hot. Maybe you should read the rest and find out what happens between a 22-year-old and hot Russian Millionaire Don. Or the one with a cute genius boy who just got out of a long-term relationship comes for a job as an assistant with an older Russian Millionaire who doesn't take shit from anyone. {Gayyy, Slight S/m & Russian hotties) Author: Fanoffans6 Publisher:EasyReading

Chapter 1 No.1

"I want to break up. I'm done with you, your attitudes, and how you never give me any attention or love." The love of my life said to me as we sat down on the old chairs of the small bakery in the middle of Indianapolis. We've been coming here for years since we first got together about 4 years ago. Tyler. The name of the man I thought I was going to marry and spend the rest of my life with. He had jet black hair and his dark brown eyes went well with his face. The jawline, carved the rest of his face making his small lips look plumper than usual.

Instead of reacting or saying anything back to him, I was memorizing his face as if it was the first time I was seeing it... or the last.

"Nothing to say. As always. I expect nothing less, Miles. I love you and I wanted you to show it, show that you love me... but I'll never get that back. All I ask for is some time, but you couldn't even give that to me." The truth spilled from his lips as he talked to me about our years together. Four years, four fucking years. Shit Miles...

"I'm sorry y-you feel that way-." That was all I said as he looked at me as if I said something ridiculous. He scoffed before answering back to me. He dropped the empty cup back down on the table before cupping his cheeks and then returning his focus back to me as he spoke.

"I'm not one of your colleagues, I'm not one of your friends. I'm your boyfriend! For god sake, speak to me as if I was your lover!" His voice suddenly raised higher, earning looks from neighboring people. I sat straight in my seat and let go of the chair. I didn't know what to say, there was nothing to say to someone who blames you for everything. I thought I was doing it right?

"Tyler, please. Can we talk about this at home?" I meant the apartment we shared in the city. We got a place a little while before graduating from college at the University of Indianapolis. I tried to relax my hand on top of his but he was quick to remove his and stood up rather quickly from his seat.

"Don't. I'm moving out. I'm sorry Miles but I can't do this anymore. Goodbye." Were the final words he told me before disappearing from the bakery and my life. I laid back in the rusted old chair before running my own hand through my curly light brown hair. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I could see the owner coming towards my small table by the window.

"The coffee is on the house love, you should go home and get some sleep." Ms. Mabel told me as she took the empty cups and laid her soft hands on top of mine with a light squeeze. I gave her a small sad smile before returning to my wandering. I was just looking at the people of the city, they walked by just minding their own business, going wherever they needed to go, without a care in the world. I wanted that.

After what felt like a few seconds but was 25 minutes, I got up from the seat with a squeak and left the shop. I waved to Ms. Mabel before actually leaving through the front doors decorated with silly decorations. I fished my car keys from my pocket before unlocking the doors and trying to drive away from the heartbreak that I felt.

We all know that heartbreaks have no destination, only targets.

"Is that my favorite son?" I heard the familiar voice call out from the kitchen.

"Your only son. Hey dad." I said with no emotion as my body couldn't handle happiness right now.

"Why so monotone? Are you ok? Where's Tyler, I thought you guys went for coffee?" He asked so many questions, but that's what dads do. I was saved from the internal and external embarrassment when I heard Pom Pom barking from the other side of the house. I saw her tiny legs run up to me, she was a 2-year-old Pomeranian my dad and I rescued and got to keep.

"Pom Pom! My beautiful girl, how are you?" I picked her up and instantly felt better, she had that power of making you forget anything bad and putting you in such a great mood.

"So where is he? Are you ok Miles?" His questions burned once again. I knew I had to tell him but I didn't want it to be true. I was somewhat waiting for Tyler to call back and say it was a joke, or he regretted that and wanted me back but that wasn't going to happen. I placed Pom Pom back down on the ground and she found her way back into my dad's arms....spoiled little girl.

"H-He left me. He s-said that I didn't make time for him, that I-I wasn't caring enough f-for him." I felt literal pain this time. Saying that he actually left was heartbreaking to the point where I had to sit on the couch and hold my chest in my small hands. My dad quickly placed Pom Pom down and aided me where I sat.

"Oh my son, my baby. I will seriously kill that fucker. Four years, four fucking years." He kept repeating and that broke me each and every time. That much time spent with someone and it's all gone, all the time, love, and effort.

"N-No. I just n-need to- can I stay here? I-I can't g-go back there." I struggle to say after feeling hot tears roll down my cheek. Is this the emotion you wanted Tyler? Well, here you fucking go!

"Of course. I left your room just how you left it, a mess." He said making me smile. The smile on our faces quickly faded as I felt a pang on my chest. My heart started beating rapidly and uncontrollably, I was starting to struggle to breathe.

"Breathe baby, calm down. We'll get through this." He said before walking me to my old bedroom and he was right, everything was the way I left it. Pictures of Dad, Mom, and I together before any of that fucking shooting happened and ruined our lives. My bed was at least made, but my floor was covered with old clothing and some of Pom Pom's belongings since I liked to keep her close with me at all times, she's so spoiled.

"Thank you, Dad, I really appreciate this. Love you." I said before receiving a kiss on my forehead from my dad, Michael. He picked up one of the older pictures and dusted it off with his hand before placing it on my nightstand and sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Of course son. If you need anything, just ask. Love you buddy." He said walking out of my room with the lights off and closing the door after he left. I heard scratching on my door, notifying me that Pom wants to get in, but I felt too tired to get up and let her in. Holding my hands to my chest and gripped on my shirt, it was one that Tyl-he gifted me.

"Fuck him," I whispered to myself as I slowly got up from the bed and walked over to my desk, and smashed a picture I had of both of us. The once full piece of glass, shattered into much smaller and some into fine pieces. It felt like I was watching my reflection. My life was once all gathered together, I thought I was doing it right by following the rules and being a person by the book' but now Tyler taught me otherwise.

Picking up some of the pieces of glass, one of them, accidentally, pokes through the layer of thick skin on my hand and blood seeps through. For some odd reason, it doesn't necessarily burn at first. I watch the blood drip down the palm of my hand and I feel myself enjoy the short action. It's not anything physically pleasing, more on the mental side of it. Watching the blood trace down my hand. I don't know.

I walked into the bathroom and took care of my hand before removing all my clothing, down till I was bare-ass naked in front of my bathroom mirror. I pulled out the secret box of platinum color dye from the cabinet I had there since my 18th birthday but decided against dying my hair at the time. I took my dad's razor and started trimming before going for my sides, leaving the top curly.

That's when I did. For better or for worse. I mixed the dye in the bowl and applied it to my hair, fuck it! I ran myself a bath and got some soap to make sure it was nice and bubbly, don't judge. Hoping in, I laid my back against the tub and made sure my hair was fully covered with dye before leaving it in for 40 minutes. I decided to play some sad music just to make the situation feel 100 times worst.

I scrolled through my phone and saw an advertisement for a position of a CSA (Computer Science Analysts) at the Ivanov Co, maybe this was the change I needed after all.

---

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