Page 36 of Kidnapped Bratva Toy

I knew this about myself well enough at this point. It was that kind of thing I was always fantasizing about, always using to entertain myself when I was alone and needy.

The spray zinged through my clit, and I had to bite back a moan. My mind threw up the image of Pietor bending me over his knee and spanking me, punishing me for being so naughty, so disrespectful to his authority. My nerves were on fire as I pictured him—those mismatched eyes, the tattoos, the piercings.

I didn’t want to admit how intrigued I was or how much I wanted to learn about him, too. Jot down mental notes about all his buttons so I could push them later before enjoying his punishment.

Oh, my God. You are so fucked up.

But right then, I couldn’t have cared less. My pussy was throbbing, so very close to climax, as I let Pietor’s shower head work me over.

And then the tension exploded. I orgasmed—hard. It was so much more than it had ever been when I was taking care of myself, and I knew it had everything to do with the thoughts that had been consuming me since I stepped foot in the shower.

My heart pounded against my ribcage, and I struggled to catch my breath as I stood back up on shaky legs. Hanging up the shower head, I was wobbly. Fuck, I’d forgotten to eat. Worse still, that release had powered through me so hard…and I didn’t want to face why.

“Dammit.”

Shaking my head, I stepped out of the rapidly cooling shower and walked over to the sink where I’d left the towel. I wrapped the fuzzy, white material around myself before kneeling down to pull out the duffle bag from under the sink where I’d stashed it.

It wasn’t there.

Furrowing my brow, my heart quickening again, I looked around the bathroom for it. I even checked the separate little area with the toilet.

Nothing.

“And where are the clothes I was just wearing?” I sighed. “Fucking hell.”

Pietor must have done this. There was no other way the duffle and a pile of clothes would just be up and gone. Squeezing the towel tighter in my grip, I walked up to the door, knocking on it before hollering for Pietor to hear me.

“Did you take my stuff?”

The shushing sound of steps over the carpet approached the door, and then he knocked on the other side.

“What stuff?”

My blood boiled, and I rolled my eyes since he couldn’t see. “My clothes. The duffle that was just in here with all the ones from my apartment.”

I heard Pietor hum. “Oh, that. Nope. Haven’t seen ’em.”

Positively fuming, I clenched my hand into a fist and sucked in a desperate breath. He was so damn good at riling me up. He was teasing me. I knew he was, but all the logic in the world wasn’t keeping the trick from being damn effective.

“Well, I have nothing to wear in here. Could you please find it or get me something?” I asked through clenched teeth.

I heard him snicker on the other side of the door, and I could just tell he was gearing up for more, so I sucked in a hard breath and jabbed my finger at the wood protecting me.

“And before you even suggest it, no. I will not come out naked or in the towel. I will starve to death in this bathroom before leaving without some clothing.”

The chuckle got louder, and it took everything not to scream.

“I was just going to say hang tight, sweetheart.”

I didn’t get in a response before I heard his footsteps move him away from the door. A shiver rippled through me as I waited. My hair was dripping all over his floor, but I wasn’t about to care about getting Pietor’s marble too wet. I reached, squeezing my hands down the long locks, which created a puddle on the floor.

Ha, take that.

It was a stupid excuse for revenge and one I’d probably regret if I forgot it was there and slipped. It would be just my luck to fall on my ass or, worse, my head.

The towel was also not warm enough, and I tried to rewrap it, adjusting how the flaps encircled me. Just as I got the thing closed again, the bathroom door opened. I yelped as a wad of fabric hit me in the face, flinching backward and utterly failing to catch it.

“There ya go.”

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