Page 29 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

He leans down, claiming my lips once more in another biting kiss then his hands are on my body. Pulling me upward, he wraps both thick arms around me—one around my waist and the other up my back to clutch my opposite shoulder. Holding me in place, cradled firmly against my chest, he starts to fuck me.

The power of his hips sends any final sense vanishing from my mind. With short, sharp thrusts, Fyodor fucks into me quickly like a man possessed. I clutch at his body, touching every inch of his back that I can reach. Every powerful thrust punches a whimper past my lips, and as his thrusts continue, they build in force and speed. Water splashes up from the counter with each impact, droplets run down his naked back and the ends of my soaked hair tickle my shoulders.

He fucks me harder. Faster. His hips become a blur and the ache of impact melts into the rising pleasure inside me. I can’t think. I can barely breathe as his thrusts force air from my lungs and there’s never enough time to regain more. Digging my nails into his shoulders, I hold on for dear life and his grip tightens.

Never have I felt so utterly desired. He holds me like he can’t bear to let me go and fucks me like he wants to imprint on me as deeply as he can. I want it. I want him. I want everything.

Tightening my legs around his hips is the only warning I can give him. Molten pleasure builds in my core and my muscles tighten to the point that it feels like my heart has fallen right down into my pussy. Everything throbs, every nerve is raw, and when my eyes roll back, my world is empty barring Fyodor’s cock.

My orgasm hits with the force of a train, and my moan of desire cuts off as muscles tighten. For a moment, there’s nothing, just ecstasy as I hold onto Fyodor as tightly as I can with my hands and my pussy. Then I tip over the edge, and Fyodor comes right along with me.

This is heaven.

Ten minutes later, we stand in the laundry room, pulling on fresh, dry clothes and squeezing water out of soaked hair. Here is where shyness starts to overcome me and I focus on covering myself up as quickly as possible. Even though we’ve just fucked, there’s a part of me that still feels like I have to hide, as if Fyodor won’t have realized just how big I am until he sees me now. Hurriedly, I pull on a skirt and fresh shirt but when I turn around, Fyodor stands in only slacks with his gaze fixed on me.

“You’re beautiful,” he says and warmth bleeds into my already heated cheeks. Men that look like Fyodor aren’t supposed to find curvy women like me attractive; never mind fuck them on kitchen counters. Like with Daniil, it’s like a dream.

“What’s going to happen to Zasha?” I ask, distracting away from the compliment.

Fyodor’s brow twitches slightly as if disapproving of my change but he doesn’t press it.

“We will talk to him.”

Fyodor pulls on a fresh tank top, covering the beautiful full-body ink that spreads from his neck to his waistline. His tattoos have so much detail and intricate patterns that I can only pick out some flowers and birds before they vanish from view. Would he let me study him? I would trace each one with my fingertips to learn their history.

Or is this a one-time thing?

“I want to be there.”

Fyodor pauses, one suspender over his shoulder and the other in his hand. “No.”

“I need to see if he’s alright.”

“No,” Fyodor snaps and the heated anger from his earlier declaration to kill Zasha returns to his tone.

“You can’t say no to me, not after you’ve just fucked me, which I’m pretty sure breaks some labor laws.”

Fyodor snorts suddenly a deep, soft laugh rumbles in his chest. He finishes securing his suspender and lifts his gaze to me. “The only laws here are my own.”

Warmth beads at my aching core once more, and I reflexively lick my lower lip. Narrowing my eyes, I smirk daringly.

“Do your laws stretch to others because Daniil and I?—”

“It’s okay, I know I was better.”

My mouth hangs open. He knows? Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised given how Daniil is everyone’s shadow and one of Fyodor’s most trusted men, but still.

The warmth in my cheek spreads down my throat and I suddenly miss the coolness of the flooded kitchen.

“Whatever. I need to be there, and if…if you say no, then this will never happen again.” My heart pounds. It’s a risk to my heart and my ego, implying that Fyodor would even want to touch me again especially in the light of post-orgasm clarity. To my surprise—and immense relief—Fyodor nods and a couple of damp curls bounce across his forehead.

“Fine. You can attend the meeting once Zasha has been treated.”

11

NAOMI

“Goodnight, darling.”

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