Page 47 of The Lazarov Bratva

He draws my last orgasm out of me purely with his fingers, with a hand around my throat and his eyes holding me in place. I cling to his arm, each breath dragging past my lips and the light pressure he applies to my neck. I gasp and float, all my focus honed in on his pumping fingers and how deftly his thumb teases my clit.

Then his lips part.

“Good girl,” Kristof says.

My eyes roll back, and I come so hard my very bones ache right down to my very soul. By the time the limo comes to a stop, I’m boneless and exhausted.

We’re home.

The one place I don’t want to be, and yet somehow, it’s okay because Kristof is here. He kisses my temple and praises me with words that I barely hear. His tone is soft, and when he gathers me into his arms, his chest is solid and warm. I’m utterly content, and I trust him completely. Whatever hell awaits us inside the Estate, I know he will handle it.

Kristof will keep me safe.

My head lolls against this shoulder, and I clutch at his shirt as exhaustion takes me. Alcohol and good sex have tired me out completely, and when the chill of the night air touches my bare skin, I huddle in his arms. He carries me, bridal style, and I close my eyes with a deep yawn.

Home, sweet home.

11

KRISTOF

Alena’s head lolls against my shoulder as she falls fast asleep in my arms.

It warms the flickering embers gathering at the bottom of my cold heart. She trusts me. That should make the next part easy.

Facial recognition lets me into my home, and the black door closes behind me with a cushioned soft hiss. Inside, the air is cool. I haven’t been here in quite some time since I’ve been traveling, so the normal warmth of life is absent.

This is one of my lesser-known properties where I usually tend to things that Aleksander prefers not to know about. In this instance, it’s almost fitting that I’ve brought Alena here. The only light that exists comes in the large bay windows leading out to the vast garden, with trees casting ominous shadows across the lounge floor.

I pass by them all with only a glance. This far outside the city, my chances of being disturbed are slim and the place is nice. With a large lounge and attached kitchen, a small study, and the bedrooms upstairs, it’s more home than a single man needs. I spend most of my days either in the kitchen, in the study, or out in the garden looking down at the city that lives and breathes the Orlovas.

A city that’s on the brink of new ownership.

Instead of taking Alena upstairs to the bedroom, I take her down a set of stone steps that wind down into the dark. I’d turn on a light, but I don’t want to risk waking her, and I’ve walked these steps enough that it’s basically muscle memory at this point. The air turns a notch colder, and I make a mental note to turn the heating on as soon as I get back upstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs sits a heavy steel door that’s ajar and illuminated by a single yellow light above. Alena shifts slightly in my arms, nuzzling into my throat, and I swallow hard as I step through the door and into the room.

It’s an interrogation room most days. Many secrets have been spilled here, and now it will hold my secret.

Alena.

Mine.

I pause and rub my shoulder on the wall, activating the soft lighting above, and it spills across the room, highlighting the bed in the middle. It’s a bit bare at the moment, but I’ll decorate with a few things for Alena. In the far corner are the toilet and shower, but all in all, it’s a square room with no windows and only one door.

The perfect training room.

I gently lower Alena onto the bed, and her head flops to the side. She’s thoroughly passed out from exhaustion and alcohol, and while some irritation still itches under my skin, she has done well in letting me work out my frustrations with her. I align her head with the pillow and gently stroke her long, sleek, blonde hair away from her face. A single touch to her swollen lips, and I leave the room, returning quickly with a long line of black rope.

It’ll look beautiful against her skin.

Usually, I’m tying up people I plan to kill, so my knots aren’t as elegant as they should be for Alena, but I do my best. The rope loops around her left wrist and pulls taut, then I attach it to a rung on the metal headboard. The rope pulls tight. I’ve never had someone escape, so she’s not going anywhere. I kiss her palm, then repeat with her other wrist, and she spreads out like a T on the bed. Her ample chest rises and falls with each sleeping breath, and just the sight of her makes my gut twist.

Giddiness sweeps through me. Alena is really here.

I’ve taken her. She’s mine, and I’m going to make her love me.

The next length of rope goes around her left ankle, and I attach that to the metal rungs at the foot of the bed. Same for her right, and when they pull taut, she’s spreadeagle on the bed. Temptation rises like flames creeping up my spine and my blood runs hotter. The things I could do to her like this. I could bury myself deep and pump her full of cum, make her mine in every meaning of the word. I could fuck her until being without my cock feels incomplete to her.

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