Page 28 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

Fyodor is kissing me.

My incredibly attractive boss is kissing me with such intensity that I can’t do anything but exist in his hold. It’s like fantasy and reality are bleeding together. His lips are dry but soft. His hold is fierce, giving me no room to press back and his heady scent fills my senses on my next stuttering breath. His head tilts slightly, dragging the soft bristles of his facial hair against my cheek then a flash of damp tongue swipes across my lower lip.

It’s amazing and yet terrifying.

This can’t be real.

There’s no way someone like Fyodor has any kind of attraction to someone like me.

Sense comes back in a flash and I use all my strength to shove Fyodor away. He barely moves, but the kiss breaks and I step back, my heart hammering and warmth radiating from my face. The sight of Fyodor’s dark eyes glittering down at me with an impossibly sexy smirk gracing his lips irritates me unexpectedly.

My hand reacts before my thoughts, flying up from my side so quickly that when I slap him, I’m more surprised than he is. His head barely moves.

“What the hell are you playing at?” I snap hoarsely. My lips throb, missing the press of his own. “Zasha is awake, or did you miss that part? That should be your focus right now!”

Fyodor’s subtle smirk widens.

Then he surges forward and kisses me again so powerfully that the force carries me back until I hit the counter. All sensible thought and indignation vanishes from my mind.

“I’ll kill him,” Fyodor growls against my mouth, his breath hot. His hands clutch at my body, his grip powerful but far from painful. “I’ll kill him for touching you.”

“No,” I gasp, breathing the word into his mouth since he gives me no space. “He’s not in his right mind, and he didn’t hurt me.”

He didn’t do anything but turn me on in the most unexpected way. The show of force that sent me to the ground was alarming, but I couldn’t deny how my core throbbed and my heart raced at being pinned down by such an incredibly handsome man. Without all the dirt and snow around him, he was quite beautiful.

My words only spur Fyodor on further. His teeth catch on my lower lip, dragging at the flesh when he pulls back slightly. I gasp and his tongue dives into my mouth. Both of his hands rise to my shirt, grip the material and pull harshly. Buttons scatter in all directions when he rips my shirt open but there’s no time for me to be nervous.

His possessive growls of protection awaken something carnal inside me, and the fantasy finally becomes my reality.

With the counter at my back, I clutch at his thick arms and pull him against me. One thick, muscular leg shoves between my thighs and presses upward against my core, sending a spark of pleasure coursing through my body.

Reaching his suspenders, I shove them away from his shoulders and pull at his water-logged shirt. Water continues to pour down onto us, soaking clothing and hair alike but I swear it turns to steam the moment it touches Fyodor’s hot body.

He kisses me like he’s trying to consume me, like he can imprint himself inside me by shoving his tongue down my throat and pinning mine down underneath. He slides both searing hands over my damp skin, then up to my large breasts. Cupping them, he squeezes then suddenly pulls away to remove his shirt. It lands with a splash somewhere behind him then his mouth is back on mine for another biting kiss.

I only get a glimpse of the decorative ink that weaves across his skin before he’s too close for me to see. I touch where I can. His skin is surprisingly soft. Our kiss breaks and I whine loudly, dragging in a desperate lungful of air.

Fyodor doesn’t stop. We clash together like lightning and each touch thrums with energy to the point that it’s almost painful to touch him. I want more. I crave more.

He cradles my bruised ribs with one hand, and my head falls back as his lips descend my throat in a series of open-mouthed, biting kisses. He leaves a trail of fire down my skin, and I’m certain he can feel how violently my heart hammers beneath my ribs. His other hand drops to my left thigh, grasping my leg and pulling it up to his hip as he takes the place of his thigh and shoves his hips between my legs.

“Fyodor,” I moan out, rolling my hips and grinding down against him. Too much fabric is in the way, but things are moving too quickly to voice that. His lips travel across my collarbone, kissing every inch down to the valley of my breasts. Tearing my bra from my body sends a flash of pain across my back as elastic snaps, but it’s a distant sensation. He cups my breasts with both hands, thumbs teasing my nipples as they stiffen then he buries his face between them.

My hands shoot to his head and following every fantasy I’ve ever had, I slide my fingers into his soaked, thick, dark hair and pull tight enough to draw a groan of appreciation from the depths of his chest. He kisses everywhere he can reach, from the swell of my breasts to the peaks of my nipples. Every touch of his lips singes hot. I writhe against him, desperate for something more.

He hears me even though no words are spoken.

Fyodor leans up and his hands return to my thighs, only this time he lifts me up with such ease that a squeal of surprise slips past my lips. Setting me down on the counter, he shoves me down flat with one hand, and I yelp as cold water splashes against my overheated skin. His fingers wrap around the hem of my jeans, and it becomes a fight of his strength against the strong cling of wet denim.

Fyodor wins; of course he does, and my jeans tear from my body in a hot rush. My panties follow and there’s no time for thought—no time to worry about what he thinks about me or what will happen next. Fueled by feral desire, Fyodor shoves between my legs and the moment his mouth presses firmly against my pussy, my entire body turns into a puddle.

I clutch at myself and the edge of the counter, unable to hold back my cry. His tongue delves inside me immediately, thrusting deep repeatedly. With one leg over his shoulder and the other dangling off the edge, I do what I can to rock against his mouth. Pleasure sparks across my body, connecting all the hot dots of kiss marks he’s left on my skin and my core tightens. Just as my walls flex around his tongue, Fyodor pulls back quickly and when he stands, the dampness of my juices clings to his beard. He doesn’t seem to care and neither do I.

“Naomi,” Fyodor growls, lust lilting his words.

I lick my lips, savoring the taste of his kisses and reach for him. Fyodor leans over me, a tall wall of muscle that makes my mouth water. He holds my gaze with a silent command. I miss when he lowers his slacks because the moment his long, thick cock enters into me, my world tips in surprise. My lips part and a moan of surprise curls from my throat. Fyodor thrusts hard and slides deep, forcing air from my lungs as the pressure and thickness fills me fuller than I’ve ever experienced before.

“Fyodor,” I whimper.

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