“Why are you sorry?” I ask softly.
She growls before she grinds out through gritted teeth. “Whatever I need to be sorry for. I’m sorry,” she sobs.
I unbuckle my pants with my free hand and remove them before I step down from the bed and take off my shirt as well. Then I crawl beneath her arms and get on my knees between them, my cock right at her face.
“Open,” I demand.
“I can’t, Konny, baby I can’t,” she whimpers through her gorgeous tears.
Grabbing the back of her head, I guide her mouth toward my cock. “Yeah, sladkaya, you can, my sweet girl,” I murmur.
She nods, her eyes still leaking tears as she looks up at me and opens her mouth. I slowly sink down her throat, not too deeply, in case she can’t take me. I gently fuck her mouth, my eyes staying on hers the entire time. I know when she’s lost in the sensations that take over her body. Her eyes slide closed, and her jaw relaxes. With just shallow strokes I fuck her warm mouth, her waiting mouth. It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced.
I want nothing more than to come down her throat but I decide not to. Instead, when I feel my balls tighten and my back tingle I pull out of her mouth, and I wrap my hand around my cock as I jack off onto her lips and chin with a long moan.
Lifting my opposite hand, I gather my release onto my fingers, and I paint her lips with it. I don’t even have to prompt her, she opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out, waiting for my cum. She takes it with a moan, swallowing it down as I feed it to her, and I know without a doubt that she is my match. My beautifully defiant fucking match.
“Now do you know why I’m punishing you, Kiska?” I ask gently.
She jerks her hands under my belt again as her gray eyes slowly open. She’s fucking drunk on lust, high as fuck, and she’s never looked more beautiful. “I doubted us. I doubted that I was truly yours. I became jealous of Viveka when I know that you don’t want her. You only want me, because I’m yours.” Her words are everything, they are fucking everything.
“Yes, my sweet girl. You are mine as much as I am yours. Nobody else is in this but us. There is no other for me, but you, and no other for you but me,” I confess.
“Please make me come, baby,” she whimpers.
I shake my head as she growls. “You can come after we have a nice evening out with your friends. You believe it all, everything that you said, don’t you my Kiska?”
Her breath hitches, and she nods. “Yes, Konny. I love you.”
I lean down in the tight space between her arms and I press my lips against hers hard and fast. “I goddamn adore you, my sladkaya, fuck,” I growl. “I want to fuck you so badly right now.”
I do. I want to fuck her and make her come on my cock, but I can’t allow it. Her punishment has to be complete, otherwise she will never learn.
“Please do, oh God, please,” she whimpers against my lips.
Unhooking the belt from her hands I gently massage her wrists for just a moment before I turn the vibrators each off. “I’m keeping the anal one in while we enjoy our evening. Go shower now, and if you touch your pussy, you’ll regret it,” I growl as I pull the vibrating egg out of her swollen, wet cunt.
“It’s waterproof,” Konstantin’s voice calls out as soon as I close the bathroom door behind me.
Letting my head fall back against the door, I open my eyes and chance a glance at myself in the mirror. I look like a fucking disaster. I’m almost unrecognizable. My hair is no longer nice and neatly styled in its bun at the top of my head. My eyes are puffy and rimmed red, my lips swollen and my face splotchy from my tears.
I step closer to the mirror and look at myself. My body is tight, so turned on that even if I touched myself for half a second, I could come. The bathroom door flies open, and Konstantin stalks toward me, still completely naked.
His hand wraps around my stomach, pressing his palm against my skin while his lips brush my shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine in the reflection of the mirror. “You need to shower, we need to leave, so I have enough time to feed you,” he orders.
“I don’t want food,” I whisper.
He smiles against my skin and moves to press his lips against my neck. “I know what you want, sladkaya, but you aren’t getting it, yet. First, I’ll feed you. Then, we’ll celebrate your accomplishment with your friends. When you’ve had your fun, I’ll bring you home and reward you for being such a sweet girl.”
His words cause my already aching pussy to ache just that much more. When his palm moves up to wrap around my breast, I can’t hold back the whimper that escapes through my lips. He pinches my nipple roughly, and I arch closer to his hand—wanting more.
“Shower, food, party, then play,” he rasps.
It sounds as though he’s on edge himself and I wonder what it would take to make his control slip, what it would take to get him to fuck me before we left?
His teeth nip my shoulder at the same time his fingers twist my nipple hard. I let out a yelp before he speaks. “Don’t scheme, Kiska. I don’t like it, and you will find yourself extremely unsatisfied,” he grunts.
“Okay,” I whisper.
I would have schemed, too. I would do anything to come right now, and I’m not above anything at all whatsoever at this point. Not only does my body scream to come, but I also want his forgiveness. I think that I want that most of all, Konstantin to forgive me.
I want his forgiveness for not believing that I’m his and that he has everything under control. And I want his forgiveness for my jealousy over Viveka. I’m not sure that I can just let that go when it comes to her though. I’m not confident that she’s just a friend and nothing else, or that she won’t try to become more. I feel irrational when it comes to him.
Konstantin starts the shower and holds his hand out to me. I quickly remove the pins from my bun and take his outstretched palm, following him into the warm shower. I reach for the soap, but he bats my hand away.
“Let me take care of you, sladkaya,” he whispers.
With an exhale, I nod. His warm, wet, rough fingers skim over my body, and I can’t help but moan at the sensation. I close my eyes when he takes his sweet time washing my body, paying extra attention to my breasts and my pussy, being careful to avoid my clit with every move he makes. Then, without speaking a word, he turns me so that my hair is under the water.
In silence, he washes, then conditions my hair, taking such tender care of me that I’m moved to tears. His fingers swipe the tears from my eyes, but he doesn’t say anything about them or ask me what’s wrong. His gaze softens when he sees the wetness coming from my eyes. Leaning down slightly, his lips brush mine as his hands move to my waist.
“You’re spectacular, Kiska. This will be a rough night, but you’ll be able to handle it, won’t you my strong printsessa?” he breathes against my lips.
“I’m not a printsessa,” I exhale.
He shakes his head as a smirk appears on his lips as though he finds me amusing. “You are, a little prima ballerina, printsessa—my little prima ballerina printsessa.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, and he chuckles as he turns the shower water off.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. I like that you have a passion that drives you and you’re living that passion every single day. It’s beautiful.”
I can’t stop the smile that plays on my lips as I towel off my body. “Really?” I ask.
“Yeah, really.”
Walking up to him with the towel wrapped around my body, I lift my arms and loop them around his neck. He dips his chin, his dark hair falling forward on his forehead.
“It’s not normal for you Bratva men to encourage careers for their women, especially something as time-consuming as dancing.”
“There are plenty of men whose wives work. You’ve just been surrounded by the top men in the organization. It would be like a top politician’s wife working a regular nine-to-five job, it isn’t common,” he explains.
I blink at h
is words. They make more sense than anything I have ever thought before. I always assumed the men were extra controlling, which they are, but that they wanted to keep their wives under their thumbs. Although I should have known it wasn’t just for control, my mother is a strong woman, and my father is controlling, but he usually isn’t suffocating about it.
“Get ready, food time,” he murmurs.
I nod, my mind still filled with thoughts of his words running through my head. Would he allow me to continue dancing if I could be completely and truly his? I want that. I want a man who understands my desires and passions.
There is no way in hell that Akim will allow my dancing to continue, he’s already hinted at such. Konstantin is turning from this sexy forbidden man, into a dream come true, and dream that no matter what he says, is just outside of my grasp.
WALKING INTO THE CLUB, I’m glad that Bronislav arrived before us and has a table waiting in VIP. Sitting through dinner with Kiska was akin to torture. She’s wearing a dress that is too short and too low cut, showing off the swells of her plump tits.
I smirk when I think about how I delivered my own torture to her throughout the meal. I brought the butt plug’s remote control with me, and every so often I would turn it on and watch as her eyes glazed over and her mouth dropped open slightly—it was beautiful.
“Are you going to continue to screw with me?” she shouts as we walk through the throngs of people littering the dancefloor on our way to the VIP area.
Slipping my free hand into my pocket, I smile to myself and turn the vibration setting up two notches. Kiska freezes in place, and her head turns to me, her face turning bright red, not with embarrassment but with anger that is probably mixed with a little frustration as well. I quickly turn the device off with a laugh.
“You fucking asshole,” she cries.
Bending down I shift so that both of my hands grab ahold of her ass and I pick her up off of her feet so that we’re eye to eye, her legs dangling in the air. I press my lips against hers and squeeze her ass tightly.
“You want me to be an asshole, Kiska, I can do that,” I whisper against her mouth.
“Baby,” she breathes. “I need you so badly,” she whimpers.
I nip her bottom lip moving my mouth so that I can whisper in her ear. “You’ll get me, sladkaya. Be good the rest of the night,” I hum.
She growls, and it’s so fucking cute. I carry her up the stairs toward her friends. They’re all sitting around a table that is littered with empty drinks.
“Kiska,” Zoe cries as she stands up and starts our way. I slowly lower her down to the ground and allow her to greet her friend.
Bronislav quickly walks over to me and lifts his chin before he tips his head to the wall. I follow him away from the small crowd. “What is it?” I ask.
“Zoe is mine. She doesn’t know who or what I am,” he states.
“But you wish to tell her?” I guess. He nods and takes a sip from his tumbler of vodka.
I look over at Zoe. She’s a cute girl, young like Kiska though, and as passionate about her dancing as Kiska is.
“You’ll need to marry her first,” I state.
He watches me for a beat before he sucks in a breath. “She wouldn’t say yes, not immediately anyway. She is dancing, she is focused, she is young,” he states, saying everything that I have been thinking.
“Do you wish her to quit?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nyet, she enjoys what she does,” he shrugs.
“Then you’ll have to push for a marriage. The only other solutions are to knock her up, or if she becomes injured and cannot dance—neither of those seem too appealing.”
“Fuck no. Kids are not something I want, nor need, anytime soon,” he grunts.
Bronislav is younger than me at twenty-four. I can completely understand why he is not ready for children. I’m thirty-two and don’t feel ready myself.
I grin over at him and clap him on the shoulder. “You are fucked. Marry the little one.”
He grunts and pushes off of the wall before he closes the distance between himself and Zoe. I watch them for a moment.
They’re free.
Free in their choice of who they want to be with.
Free to explore.
Free to love.
I’m envious of them.
When my eyes shift to Kiska, I notice that she is watching me, her eyes glancing between Zoe and Bronislav before turning to mine. She gives me a sad smile before she closes the distance between the two of us.
“He is going to ask her to marry him,” I murmur, lifting my hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes widen. “He is?”
I nod dragging my fingertip down her neck, stopping at her shoulder. “Put a bug in her ear to accept, yeah?”
She presses her lips together and glances away before bringing her gray eyes back to meet mine. “I’m not sure, do you think that’s wise? She doesn’t even know who he really is.”
I press my palm against her lower back before I speak. “He can’t tell her until they’re married. He wants to tell her. He’s claimed her as his own. When he said he didn’t think she’d marry him immediately, I suggested he knock her up,” I shrug. Kiska sucks in a breath. “He said no. Not only because he wasn’t ready for children yet, but because her career was important to her, and he wished her to continue with it.”
“I’ll make sure she says yes,” Kiska immediately says, her voice firm as she nods once.
With a smirk, I lower my head and press my lips to hers for a brief moment. “Thank you, sladkaya.”
“Dance with me?” she asks with a tip of her lips.
I wrap her small hand in mine and tug her toward the dancefloor. Once we’re in the middle of the crowd, she turns her back to me and starts to sway her unbelievable hips. I wrap my forearm beneath her breasts as she reaches up looping her arm around the back of my neck. Reaching into my pocket, I turn the vibration on to her butt plug to the lowest setting.
Unable to contain my smile, I feel her chest vibrate beneath my forearm when she lets out a long moan, her fingers gripping the nape of my neck at the same time. I can feel her breathing turn to panting as we continue to dance.
She moans and presses her lips against my neck, and only when the song is finished do I turn the plug off. Then I take her back upstairs to have fun with her friends, to celebrate, not touching the device again for the rest of the evening in the club.
I moan in the front seat of Konstantin’s car. My hips jerk uncontrollably. I am so turned on; my entire body is a ball of sensitive nerves. I think that if he blew against my ear, I would come right now. He didn’t turn the plug on at all after our first dance at the club, and I thought that the torture was over. It wasn’t. He was just giving me a break. As soon as he started the engine of his car, he started that fucking plug up again.
“You’re so sexy when you’re turned on and your skin is flushed,” he whispers as his hand travels up the inside of my thigh.
Shamelessly I spread my legs, hoping and praying that he’ll put me out of my misery. He doesn’t though, he stops at the top of my thigh, and his fingers slowly travel down to my knee. I moan out of frustration which makes him chuckle.
“I’m so wet, baby. I’ve probably made a mess on your leather seats,” I admit, hoping that it will be enough to make him touch me.
The steering wheel jerks slightly but he corrects it before speeding the car up a little bit more. “You’re all mine, aren’t you, Kiska. Every part of you,” he rasps.
It doesn’t escape me that this isn’t the first time he’s made a statement like this. I think he’s trying to reassure himself as much as me at the fact. I am his though. Even if Akim came and married me today, I would still very much be Konstantin’s—at least my heart would be.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“I have three years to figure out how to keep you, sladkaya, have faith in me,” he murmurs into the quiet car.
&n
bsp; My head rolls to the side to face his profile. “Are you going to—keep me—that is?”
His hand tightens on the steering wheel, his white knuckles appearing and I hope that the wheel is strong because he looks like he could bend it if he really wanted to. “I am. You’re going to be Kiska Skumina one day, make no mistake about it.”
I press my lips together. “That sounds beautiful, baby,” I truthfully admit.
Konstantin pulls into our parking garage before he throws the car in park. “Get out. We’ll walk to your apartment. I need to check in on my stable. You’ll remove your clothes and position on your hands and knees in the center of the bed to wait for me,” he instructs.
I shiver and throw the door open, standing up and straightening my dress as I begin to walk toward the staircase. I can hear Konstantin’s shoes behind me, but I have one thing, and one thing only on my mind—him inside of me. The faster I walk, the faster he’ll check his messages, and then finally—I can feel him fill me and I’ll come.
Konstantin doesn’t touch me the entire way to my apartment. I’m glad for it. If he did, I would probably combust on the spot, anyway. Once we arrive to our floor, I pick up my speed, in a hurry for his touch, for his lips, and for my own release. All of my excitement drains instantly when I see who is standing in the hall, her eyes pointed directly at us.
“Viveka,” Konstantin grumbles from behind me.
She tips her lips in a smile as her eyes stay glued to me. “Kon, I need to talk to you about the girls, the schedules.”
Konstantin grunts as he slips his hand around my waist to hold me close to his side. The move surprises me, but I don’t allow that surprise to show on my face—not in front of this bitch.
“Not tonight. Schedules should have been set and have gone forward. It’s well past dating hour,” he murmurs.
“Yes, it is, but this is for the week,” she stresses.
Konstantin chuckles. “Viv. No,” he clips. “We’ll meet during fucking daylight hours to discuss schedules. Go back inside.”
I watch as her spine straightens and her eyes narrow into tiny little slits. Offhandedly I wonder if she can actually see anything through them, they’re so slight. “Kon—”
Chosen by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 9) Page 12