Page 40 of The Bratva's Nanny

With Roman, there was no time to waste time. He pressed his thumb against my clit and slipped his free hand under my t-shirt. A gasp left my lips, and my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“If you think I’m done with you, you’ve got another thing coming.” He slapped my pussy. Hard.

I screamed, writhing on the couch in pain and pleasure.

He growled in my ear, “I’m going to make you come all night long.”

And as much as I craved that, I remembered the sleeping six-year-old upstairs. “Polly’s going to wake up,” I said in a strangled sob, still shaking and breathing like a woman in labor.

He smirked—the arrogant bastard.

Before I processed what was happening, the world spun upside down, with my hair dangling in the air from over his shoulder and his strong arm hooked around my knees.

We got to the bedroom. He shut the door with his foot and dropped me on the bed. I bounced ungracefully on the fluffy mattress and crawled backward toward the headboard with my elbows.

Briefly, I looked around the master bedroom. Dark drapes, royal blue painted walls, and starry lights on the ceiling. The style of ceiling lights struck me as odd for a man with his personality. But I wasn’t given much time to mention it before his body came into sight, distracting me.

And, damn, this view was a lot more intriguing.

He’d taken off his jacket and dress shirt and was standing in his pants—nothing but bare skin and ink, designed with the most intricate details across his chest.

I eyed his bare, broad shoulders, envied the solid rips of his torso, and waited patiently as he stripped down the slacks. Covered in nothing but thin briefs, I saw his erection, which was obviously eager to be buried inside me.

Suddenly, I was feeling a little naughty.

I wanted this man as much as I knew he wanted me. He didn’t try to pretend. Didn’t bother to hide it. When he got on the bed and nestled between my legs, I pulled my t-shirt off from over my head and took off my wet panties.

I didn’t have a bra on. My breasts stretched taut under his gaze, and my tight nipples ached. For him. For his touch.

The darkness in his eyes morphed into a killer storm when he looked, ready to crush anything on his path that would have posed to hinder him. His large hand cupped one of my breasts and squeezed. Murmuring something Russian under his breath, he cursed out loud, “Fucking beautiful.”

His index flicked a nipple, and I arched into his hand.

Licking his lips, he took his aiming erection in his fist and stroked it, base to crown and back again. The sight was so exciting that I bit down on my lip with a whimper and spread my legs wider.

His eyes flared with heat, and he dropped down to hover over me. Balancing his weight on his elbows, he grabbed my head, wound his hand into my hair, and growled, “First time?”

I blushed and shook my head. “No.”

Secretly, I wondered if he was disappointed by my admission. But as soon as that thought came, it disappeared. I didn’t have to ask; he didn’t give a flying fuck about my shitty past experiences.

With one hand fixed firmly on the fluffy mattress beside my head, he positioned his rigid cock between my thighs and stroked the head up and down through my soaked folds, nudging forward. I suppressed a hum that sent me flying.

His gaze swept down to my lips, and he muttered, “Good.”

With one forceful thrust, he shoved his cock deep inside me.

The moan from my lips was raw, deep, and delirious. He pressed his lips to mine, kissing every exhale, swallowing every sigh, and making low animalistic grunts at the back of his throat as he burrowed his way deeper.

He was big, hot, and hard, filling me up, stretching me out, making me grasp and claw like a feral animal that subtly enjoyed the pleasurable torture.

Nothing and no one felt as good as he did buried deep, deep inside me.

He possessed me, pressed me down with his weight, and claimed me in every sense of the word.

My nails clawed his back, and his hands cupped my ass. He slapped my throbbing pussy again, pinched my swollen nub, and fucked me with every intention of shattering me, splitting me apart, driving me over the edge with sexual insanity—if that was even a thing.

He was rough, merciless, taking and giving in bountiful measures—rendering me needy, greedy. He smacked me, bit me, licked me. Shuddered above me and squeezed my breasts in his large hands as he fucked me.