Page 48 of The Bratva's Virgin
She drew her lip between her teeth and inhaled sharply. “Can you…can you stretch them out? I want to…”
No blink. No word exchanges. No hesitation.
I gave her my hand, intrigued by her concern. She lowered her head, and I took it as a cue to tell her something that weighed heavily on my heart. My past.
Reluctantly, I exhaled. “My parents died when I was three. They were shot. Two bullets straight through the heart. We all know what happened next, right? Basic sob story. I wasleft on the streets to fend for myself. Humbled myself to beg. Strengthened myself to survive.”
She placed the ice on my skin and glimpsed at my face when I didn't flinch.
Her eyes were soft but didn’t hold the one thing I loathed with my gut—Pity.
I stared at her now chestnut brown hair and combed my fingers through it. Her breath hitched and her fingers caressed mine. I continued, running my hand down the silken strands pouring down her shoulder.
“I don't know if you've heard, but the streets of Russia are not the nicest. It was fucking hell. Thankfully, the Bratva came to the rescue. They found me. Took me in. Gave me a new life and now here I am.”
“For one, if my opinion counts, I don’t think that’s a basic sob story. I know what it’s like to lose a parent.” I knew she spoke of her late mother. Her voice was soft. As soft as her hair in my hand. “You had a rough childhood. No child deserves such a life.”
Her concentration on my hand was a big turn-on. I hooked a thumb under her finger and eyed her lips. “And that’s why I bothered to indulge you in the ashes of my past so that you know that I will never allow my blood to go through a similar fate. Over my dead body. Do you understand?”
She released a shaky breath, nodded, and dropped the ice bag behind me. “I do. I know you won't hurt us.”
My lips tilted to the side. The temperature shifted again.
“The boy, yes. I will never, ever do anything to hurt him. But you…”
With one sweep, I wrapped my arm around her waist and lifted her onto the counter. She shrieked and her hand flew to my chest.
I pushed in between her legs and pressed my erection on her thighs.
My nails dug into her delicate skin, as I grabbed her hips, and I yanked her closer. The silk camisole rose up her thighs, exposing more soft flesh and the string of a pink lacy thong at the junction of her hip.
My heart rate sped up; heat rushed to my groin.
“I never said I won’t hurt you.” I clicked my tongue. “You were a naughty kitten,” I bent my head and nipped her jaw. She tasted sweet, like fragrance and butter, and smelled like onions and chicken.
She whimpered.
Her hands went up to my hair, but I snatched both her wrists and pinned them with one hand behind her back. “No, no. You don’t get to touch.”
A disgruntled moan escaped her.
My other hand slid under the band of her thong and, without permission, pulled them down her legs before pocketing them.
Her breaths grew shaky, raspy.
I growled in her ear and flicked my tongue under her earlobe. “You deserve to be punished.”
Her eyes drooped. Hazy. Lustful. She licked her lips and her tits tightened under the flimsy fabric. I would have prepared myself for anything.Anythingbut the next words she mumbled.
“Then punish me.”
She sounded so sure... so certain. Like she wanted me just as much I wanted her, with me buried deep,deepinside her.
“Be careful what you wish for, kitten.”
She chewed on her lips. “What if... what if I wish foryou?”
Blood rushed to my cock and my chest tightened. “What if wishing for me would hurt you?”