Page 35 of Kidnapped Bratva Toy

Slipping inside my sweats, I took my shaft in hand, rolling up and down the long length and rubbing against that sensitive area where my piercing sat. The twin balls smoothed against my thumb, and I imagined them gliding against the slick walls of Billie’s pussy.

My head fell back on the chair, and I let myself have a few more strokes before I stopped. I wasn’t about to come like this. I wanted that to be inside my sweet Billie. God, I could picture her taking me up to the hilt; her bratty attitude fucked right out of her.

“Daaamn.”

Getting up from the chair, I rushed up to the door, my hand going to the knob. I just stood there, poised to enter but holding myself back. As much as I wanted to go in there, the thought of Billie coming to me and admitting she wanted me sounded far too good to pass up.

I forced myself back from the door, and it took several laps of the room before I felt comfortable enough to sit back down. I eyed the frilly French room décor, wanting desperately to tear it all to shreds. Still, the bedposts could come in handy when Billie finally begged me to fuck her.

Gripping one, I looked back at the bathroom door. I traced the lines of the molding and trim that decorated it, my fingers itching to go for that knob again.

“What in the hell, Pietor?” I grumbled to myself.

I’d never been affected by someone like this. Billie was my new obsession, and I knew there was no chance I was letting her go, even after this whole Emiliano situation was resolved.

Billie was mine.

And then an evil, wonderful idea prickled in my mind. I chuckled, then stealthed up to the bathroom door to get something.

Chapter 15 - Billie

The water rushing over my skin was almost enough of a distraction against the swirling thoughts racking my mind. Almost.

Pietor’s proximity during the outings today was still zapping my nerves like random strikes of lightning. He’d smelled too good, felt too good, and it had been altogether just too damn good.

I enjoyed the way he felt against me, his nose nuzzled into my neck far more than I should, and I knew that. What I didn’t understand was why I couldn’t shut it down like I had before with other attractive people in my life. He was just…different.

Everything about Pietor made my body hum with desire in a way it never had. But what was more intriguing was how interested he was in my life, and I had to admit I was just as curious.

But who the hell was I kidding? He was probably just probing for information, even if he’d seemed…genuine.

“Enough, Billie. Come on.”

Scrubbing the soap against my skin again, though I was fairly certain I’d already gotten every inch of myself, I focused on the way the bubbles suds over my arms and chest. My nipples were hard from even just thinking about Pietor like that, and the sensitive brush against them with my hands almost stole a hiss from me.

Almost.

“What are you doing? This is insane, Billie.”

My rational mind and my needy body were on two separate wavelengths, however, and I coasted my hands down my breasts to my thighs, my thumbs drifting over the juncture of my legs.

You don’t have a crush. You don’t have a fucking crush. You do not like him. You’re just…pent up.

And still, the throbbing pulse in my core seemed to mock all those useless words. It was already so damn strong for just thinking about Pietor, for just remembering the way it felt for him to press against me. God, it had been right out in the open. On a fucking park bench, no less.

For a moment, I tried to look around the expansive “room” that was the shower to study the black trim and textured glass. I tried to focus on how the massive space was all shades of white, gray, and black and so different from the bedroom just past that door.

Where Pietor was.

My concentration faltered, my legs quivered, and I reached for the handheld sprayer, taking it down from the slot where it hung up next to the spout mounted directly above the shower.

I sat down on the little bench made from the same marble as everything else, caring nothing about how cool it was against my heated flesh. My hand trembled as I spread my legs wider, angling the nozzle of the sprayer toward my pussy.

The steady stream of warm water beat against my aching clit, immediately making me jerk. The thick, massaging jet was nearly too much against the sensitive skin, but I wanted it. I wanted that sting, that intensity that forced my hips to buck as it rocked me close to an orgasm in just moments.

But no…

What I really wanted, what I craved with all the dark corners of my depraved little soul, was for Pietor to fuck me raw. I wanted him to finally do something about all the times I’d stood up to him and challenged him like a brat needing to prove her point.

---