Page 41 of Used By the Bratva

She glances at the chaise at the foot of the bed. “Fine.”

I smile languidly and shake my head. “No. Bed.”

She glances at the bed before looking at me. “I’m not sharing a bed with you. No way. Not happening.”

I lunge before she gets the idea of locking herself in the bathroom. She squeals and wraps her arms around me to keep her balance. Before she can say anything else in protest, I slam my mouth down hard on hers. My teeth nibble at her bottom lip until she opens for me, my tongue greedily swirling around hers. While we kiss, I lead us to the bed, then break away, and with a gentle push, she falls back onto the mattress.

A grunt escapes deep from her throat.

“Un-fucking-believable,” she huffs.

“So, did you hurt yourself when you jumped out of the window?” I ask sheepishly, sitting beside her on the bed and pulling her legs into my lap.

Although she eyes me suspiciously, she allows me to run my hands up and down her legs, up to the hem of her shorts. She moans softly as I press my fingers into her muscles. Her head rolls back, and her perfect lips part as she closes her eyes.

Fuck, I could take her right now, but we still have a long way to go. She has no idea what’s in store for her.

She shifts on the bed, relaxing her back against the pillows, while I start at her ankle and move upward with the massage, lingering near her inner thigh before moving on to the other leg.

“Maybe you should have given up a life of crime to become a masseuse.” She groans.

As my fingertips trace light circles on her thigh and move closer and closer to her center, she squeezes her legs together. But I leave my hand there until she releases the tension.

I rub my fingers through the fabric of her shorts against her pussy, pressing harder on her clit. A little gasp escapes through her slightly parted lips, and it’s freaking turning me on.

I slide her legs off my lap and let my hands skim up her sides, grabbing the hem of her T-shirt and slowly pushing it up to her shoulders. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t fight me, so I peel it over her head and toss it to the floor.

“What are you doing? I … I thought …”

“Teaching you a lesson,” I mumble.

She slips away from me and moves to the middle of the bed, right where I want her.

I stand up, open one of the drawers of my bedside table, pull out handcuffs and ankle straps, and straddle her in one smooth motion.

Her eyes widen with curiosity. “What is this for?”

“Handcuffs … for protection,” I quickly lift her arms above her head, clasp both wrists with one hand, and put the handcuffs on, hooking them into the slats of the wooden headboard.

“You don’t have to do this,” Natalie says, her voice rising an octave. “I promise I won't run away again.”

“I wish I could believe that.” As I hold her body beneath mine, my hardened cock nestles against her full breasts.

I would love to rip the shirt off her beautiful body and slide my cock between her tits, but that would be too fast. Not satisfying enough.

I take the ankle straps and move to her ankles.

“And what’s that?” She yelps.

“Oh, these are for your pleasure.”

Natalie swings her foot out and tries to catch me on the chin.

“You’ll have to lose a piece of clothing for that,” I growl, grab the hem of her shorts, and yank them down her legs.

They would have just been in my way anyway.

“Hm, is this for me?” Smirking, I run a finger over her wet panties; the stained spot makes me want to abandon my plan. But this is her punishment. If we get to the fun part too soon, she’ll think that defying me results in sex.

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