Page 52 of The Bratva's Nanny
Her nose scrunched up, and I had to stop myself from laughing at how unbearably cute she was.
“I have so many questions,” she said.
I pecked her lips. “And I’ll answer them later.”
When I pressed another kiss against her collarbone, she shivered. My dick grew harder, and if it got any harder than it already was, I would go on a rampage.
Holding her gaze, I said softly, “I like your dress. I want to take it off.”
There was a long, crackling moment before she decided whether or not to respond. To give in. Our gazes held like a lit dynamite, waiting as the seconds passed before exploding.
She licked her lips. “Is that you asking for my permission?”
I slipped a hand underneath her dress and bunched up the fabric until her white thong was visible. On instinct, I spread her legs further apart and wound them around my waist.
“No.” My voice was a harsh rasp in the quiet room. I gritted my teeth to suppress the animalistic urge to fuck her senseless. “That’s me telling you what I want.”
I was at the edge of my self-control when she shifted her hips closer, pressing the valley between her legs against the bulge on my pants.
I looked at her, breathing shallowly and watching me with wary eyes. Her hair spilled all over her shoulders, and her eyes twinkled in anticipation, and I felt a jolt of possessiveness.
Darker and more intense than anything I’d felt before.
My blood rushed through my veins like wildfire. Heat rose off my skin in smoke.
Unwilling to wait, I unfastened the belt buckle around my waist, rolled down the zipper, and grasped my hard dick in my hand.
Her voice stayed calm, but the excitement in her eyes was clear. “Don’t you want me to take off the panties?”
It was sinless and genuinely asked from a heart with nothing but purity. But it made the blood rush to my ears and strained the veins on my cock. Her innocence revved an unhealthy obsession within me.
When I spoke, it was in pants. “I don’t need to take them off.”
I slid a finger past the thin piece shielding her sex from my view. Then, I shifted it aside so she was exposed: pink, soaking wet, and ready for me.
I stared down at her. Desire wracked my entire core like a tornado, leveling everything in its wake. I stroked her, rubbed her clitoris, watched her quiver, and then settled myself between her spread thighs.
I nuzzled her throat and kissed my way up until I found her lips. Then, I shoved my dick inside, the entire length buried in her.
She arched into me, dug her nails into my arm, and groaned into my mouth.
I muttered a rushed, “Fuck!” before I withdrew and went again.
Her heat and wetness slid against my hard cock, and I kissed her like a prisoner that had been starved for days, parting her lips with my tongue and delving deep.
She melted in my arms as she did every time I kissed her, sighing into my mouth. Her fingers crawled to my hair. My fingers found her wet sex again, and I played with it.
Stroked my fingers lazily across her pussy and…thrust.
A brutal moan resonated from her throat. Our tongues lapped, breaths mingled, and heartbeats formed a rhythm. The sound of quickening breaths and the jerking wooden desk filled the silence. Need and hunger grew, and the blood in my ears steamed, each roll of her hips matching mine.
I wanted to strip her, to taste every inch of her. But I had no patience.
This will have to do—for now.
I dug my fingers into her ass, lifted her from the desk, spun, and pinned her against the wall behind us.
She stiffened, and I knew why: memories of the attack—of being slammed to the wall and almost choked to death. But I didn’t let her go. I was going to kill the bloody asshole when I saw him.