Page 65 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

I’m utterly spent, utterly fucked, and incredibly satisfied that things took this unexpected turn.

Who knew I got excited from being watched?

Zasha is right there to help me out of the pool. As soon as I try to step onto the tiles, he bundles me up in a towel and scoops me up into his arms.

“This…was amazing,” I murmur softly, my head rolling against his shoulder. “I’m very glad you remembered your birthday.”

“So am I,” Zasha chuckles, carrying me inside with the others following. “It is a very good birthday.”

“The best?” I ask.

“The very best.”

“Mm-hmm.” With the alcohol warming my veins and mixing with the intense post-orgasm high, the world is softer. Lights are fuzzy, skin-on-skin contact makes me buzz and the flashes of their smiling faces linger in my mind. “I feel so good.”

“How good?” Fyodor asks, moving past Zasha and leading the way back to my bedroom.

“So good.” I smile lazily. “This was…amazing. I needed this. I’m so happy.”

“Happy is good,” says Daniil.

“Zasha, I hope you get all your memories back.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

“And I hope we all stay this happy forever.”

Someone snorts softly, but I brush it away, focusing on the happiness that keeps my limbs heavy and my eyelids droopy. This is the perfect end to the perfect day.

Suddenly Zasha lays me down and I’m met with the soft, cool sheets of my bed. He kisses my forehead and lingers, lightly stroking his knuckles over my cheek.

“Sleep now,” he says softly. “You need rest.”

“I will make sure there are painkillers here when you wake up,” Daniil says, moving to kiss me lightly on the lips. I catch his jaw before he can move away and pull him in for a deeper kiss. Then, in a blink, his lips melt into Fyodor’s.

“Sleep,” he commands, firmer than the other two. “Your body needs to recover.”

I whine, trying to argue but they speak the truth. My hips ache, my ass throbs, and my pussy pulses; everything that’s sensitive demands more attention than I have. Sleep is where it’s at.

The covers are drawn up over my body and I look at all three of them in turn with a lazy smile on my face.

“Goodnight,” I murmur, eyes already closing.

“Goodnight,” comes my reply. The floor shifts and creaks as they move away toward the door.

“Cigar?” Fyodor offers quietly, his voice drifting to me through the darkness.

“An after-sex tradition?” Daniil snorts softly.

“Maybe.”

“Fio smokes cigars? You’re a little cliché,” Zasha snorts.

“Don’t call me that,” Fyodor snaps as the door creaks closed. “Only my father and daughter call me that because neither of them can say Fyodor.”

25

DANIIL

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