Anastasia Romanov .

Anastasia Romanov .

svetaivanova

4.8
Comment(s)
7.1K
View
42
Chapters

Anastasia Romanov, one of the Last Grand Duchesses of the Russian Empire, finds herself lost in memories and heartbreak. Unable to forget her former love, she wanders around the world, looking for distractions. But then a surprise attack from the Hunters spins her life around. Anastasia meets a beautiful Huntress, whose code name is 'Princess of the Wild', but the girl just wants to kill the Duchess at every chance she gets. Will they be potential lovers or forever sworn enemies? |A sequel to the Romanov Princess Book| Warning: Sexual Explicit, Lesbian story, Rated R: 18+ only.

Chapter 1 Anastasia

In Greek, "nostalgia" literally means "the pain from an old wound". It's a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. It is a time machine. It goes backward and forward. It takes us to a place we ache to go again.

One of the strangest things about living is that there is only the now, but we all seem to be wrapped up in the past and wandering aimlessly in the present, yet always wondering about the future.

I brushed another light stroke of wet paint over the white canvas. My hand started trembling again as it always did when I thought of her. Every time I tried to finish the portrait, emotions would come rushing through my veins like the black ink over the whiteness of a thin paper.

Overwhelmed by past memories, my mind lost its focus. I dropped the paintbrush on the floor with a frustrated sigh. Her gorgeous brown eyes were too vivid in my mind, yet all my skills couldn't bring them to life.

Since what happened back in Russia, I found myself roaming from city to city. But even if I could go as far as the end of the earth, I still couldn't escape the nostalgia.

"Why are you still up, Your Highness?" a feminine voice said from the bed.

I turned around to look at the naked girl smiling sweetly at me. Another girl next to her was also staring with her bright violet eyes. Their seductive smiles shone through the darkness of the room.

I walked over to the liquor table and reached for a wine bottle. I didn't bother to pour it into the glass and just drank the burning red juice straight from the bottle. The wine tasted sweet against my tongue.

One of the girls with dark flowing hair rose from the bed and floated towards me. The other one did the same. All bare and desperate for my attention.

"Please, come back to bed with us," the girl with brown hair spoke softly. The brown-haired one was my favorite. Each came to my sides and stroked my arms sensually.

I kept swallowing my drink and closed my eyes. Alcohol and sex were two things I relied on to kill the pain. They kept my mind off things, at least for a short while.

I took another gulp of wine and then turned to the dark hair girl.

"Kneel," I said.

The girl quickly obeyed and got down to her knees. Without further instruction, her tiny delicate hands worked their ways over my pants.

I put the wine bottle down and turned to the second girl and pulled her by the back of her head a bit roughly. Her face flushed, already anticipating my touch. I finally pressed my wet lips against her waiting mouth and devoured her in a deep hard kiss. She moaned excitedly in my hand.

I felt a warm slithering tongue of the girl kneeling on the floor. My pants were undone. My private was exposed. I looked down and grabbed a fistful the girl's silky hair, guiding her clever tongue to where I needed most. The other one kept nuzzling my neck and stroking my breasts.

I sighed in contentment and leaned my head back.

That was all I needed for now.

Flowing hair cascaded on the sheets like lapping waves of silk, perfect cat-like brown eyes fluttered under my kisses as I trailed them from her elegant neck to her porcelain cheek. Her silken nightgown felt like water over the curves, but the heat from my nakedness spilled through the bed like lava. This was the lovely warmth we could produce when we made love.

Her perfect maroon lips were begging to be kissed, devoured even, and I yearned to suckle her warm lips in that same passionate touch.

I was stronger, but the girl beneath me made every bone in my body weak. So much more powerful as she laced our fingers together and pierced our souls into one.

We tasted and caressed, feeling intoxicated by love and pleasure all at once.

"You're beautiful, Avery," I whispered huskily in her ear, lost in a daze. "All of you, everything."

I wanted to see that beauty contort under me, melt through my kisses and tremble from my needs.

"And so are you," she said breathlessly back, "You'll have all I can give you, my perfect love, my precious... Alexandra."

The word echoed in my ears like I was inside a huge bell. Then I woke up with a start. My heart drummed in my chest. Suddenly, I felt ashamed, ashamed and frustrated with the stupid lucid dream of my former love. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Afterall these years, Anastasia," I sighed to myself. "Why can't I forget her?"

Continue Reading

Other books by svetaivanova

More

You'll also like

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

SHANA GRAY
4.3

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book