Page 74 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

I clutch at the shelves and gasp as he fills me too full, too fast, but there’s no time to adjust. Fyodor begins fucking me hard and fast, pounding me into the shelves. Every powerful slam of his hips slides his cock so deep into my pussy that my core aches, and he barely pulls out before the next thrust comes. And the next. I can’t keep up.

And it feels amazing. We’re raw and exposed, like nerves seeking connection and he fucks almost violently. Bottles clatter to the floor, a metal pan clangs somewhere to my left, and Fyodor grunts like a beast in my ear. I hang on for dear life, unable to balance through the barrage of thrusts. His teeth lock into the meat of my shoulder and he grunts, holding on as he fucks harder, faster, deeper.

All his pent-up energy pours into each movement and I drink it up like a parched woman.

Despite it all, our moans are minimal. Pleasure swells fast but my desire escapes in gasps and whimpers. I want to make him feel good, I want to give him something other than grief so I’m happy to give him my body.

I’m happy to take his too.

Fyodor releases the bite on my shoulder and his mouth presses against my cheek. Lips parted, the dampness of his saliva coats my skin as he grunts and his thrusts change. They’re harder. Three powerful slams of his hips and he comes with a growl.

The last thrust from this angle brings my orgasm crashing over me like a wave and I whimper against the shelving, panting harshly.

Everything hurts. I’m like an open bruise surrounding the open wound of Fyodor’s pain. Muscles ripple and pleasure pours through us. Fyodor’s hips twitch, then still.

We stay like that. Joined together. Connected.

Nothing breaks the silence but our combined panting. Then his cock softens and he pulls himself free.

I sag against the shelves and bite back a groan, enjoying the throb in my core from such a rough fuck. When I turn around, Fyodor is already redressed, and he holds the door open, basking in the sickly fluorescent lights of the hospital.

I want to say something, but words fail me.

He turns back to me and cups my face, holding my gaze. A thousand words flood his eyes, but he utters nothing. Whatever he wants to say remains hidden behind his lips. Instead, he kisses me so hard that my lips bruise, and then he’s gone.

Back to being at his daughter’s side.

As I redress myself, the dampness between my thighs brings my pregnancy roaring back to the forefront of my mind. There’s no way I can mention such a thing when Dariya’s like this. If she doesn’t make it…I can never mention it.

Ever.

What the hell am I going to do about a baby?

28

NAOMI

“I’d rather stay at the hospital,” I say, sliding my hand along the kitchen counter as Daniil and I walk slowly toward the garden.

“I know,” Daniil says, his tone still as stiff as it was at the hospital. “But you need rest and Fyodor wants you here where it’s safe. So here you will be.”

I want to roll my eyes and complain, but I know it’s the right call. Remaining at the hospital would be for purely selfish reasons and a desire to stay by Fyodor’s side while he’s hurting. Surgery was a success, and the two bullets that struck Dariya thankfully missed her vital organs, but it’s still touch and go.

Nothing will take Fyodor from her side, so the rest of us have to make sure the world runs smoothly without him.

“Okay. I’ll stay here. But what about you?” Turning to Daniil, I hook my finger around one of the buttons of his vest to stop him from stepping back. “Are you staying?”

“No, I have things to look into for Fyodor.”

I pout and Daniil catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Zasha will take care of you. He will keep you safe so go to him. Please.”

“Sending me to another man?” I tease weakly, trying to bring any sort of smile or warmth out of Daniil. Sadly, it doesn’t work.

Instead, he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss on my forehead.

“You will be safe here, I promise.” With that reassurance, he steps back and I let my hand fall free of his vest. He vanishes from the kitchen, leaving me in a smothering silence broken rhythmically by the ticking clock.

How did things get so fucked? Thinking of Dariya makes my chest constrict, so I shove my hands into my pockets and turn toward the garden. Only, something cold and plastic catches my attention.

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