Page 76 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

It’s sweet and slow and so full of affection that I’d cry if I had any tears left to shed. Every touch from Zasha is soft and slow; every caress makes me melt, and my chest aches with a mixture of love and desire.

He kisses my jaw softly, grazing his teeth down my neck like a whisper, and when he reaches the valley of my breasts, his lips trail over my breasts with such delicacy that I feel utterly precious. My skin sings to a different tune when Zasha removes my clothes.

The touch of his skin against mine while our bodies writhe together is electric. Everything is slow and sensual. Kisses are sweet, touches are lingering, our legs tangle together like we’re never going to be apart.

I close my eyes and grip onto the bed sheet then onto his shoulders and his ribs as he teases down below my navel and dips between my legs. When his skilled fingers spread my pussy lips and guide his cock closer, my breath catches in my throat. He breathes for me with a deep kiss, sharing the air in his lungs. His hair falls to one side, blocking out the rest of the world.

Opening my eyes, his crystal eyes glimmer like gems. He holds my gaze, unblinking, and presses his thick cock inside me so slowly it’s like we’re becoming one. Caressing his cheek, I stroke my thumb along his cheekbone and follow the line to his ear. His hair is like silk between my fingers and still we hold each other’s gaze.

He guides my legs around his waist and when I lock my ankles together at the small of his back, he presses flat against me.

We are one.

Zasha doesn’t break eye contact even for a second when he starts to move. Slow rolls of his hips press his cock deep into me, teasing over the hidden bundle of nerves on my G-spot. He keeps one arm around my waist, arching my back slightly and tilting my pelvis so that each drag of his cock is delicious.

I soak him up, taking in every little detail on his face as we rock together. The beautiful colors of his eyes, the way a tiny crease forms between his brow each time the pleasure is just that good. His full lips part slightly with each low moan. He’s a work of art and a beautiful distraction.

The sex is deeply passionate and the orgasm Zasha pulls out of me is one so powerfully strong that it overtakes my entire body. I come hard with every limb trembling and my core aching from muscle repeatedly rippling around his cock. Sweat coats my body in a sheen, gleaming just like Zasha’s, and my heart soars.

Exhaustion settles in not longer after and Zasha kisses me deeply. The movements of his lips are almost lazy. My legs fall to the side, tired out, and my body throbs with each thump of my heart.

“Rest now,” Zasha says, gently pulling his cock from my body and drawing the bedsheets over us. He takes me in his arms and aligns his body with mine, cuddling me with every inch while maintaining skin-on-skin contact. “I have you. Sleep.”

I want to argue but my mind is finally at peace and sleep comes almost immediately. Exhaustion drags me under like a weight and I fall deeply asleep, safe in the grounding arms of Zasha.

The protection doesn’t reach into my dreams though. I dream of a shadow stalking me through the mansion. I throw open the curtains and open all the windows, then turn on all the lights to flood the rooms with as much light as possible. It doesn’t work. The shadow moves in the walls, always just out of sight. The harder I try to block it out, the more it taunts me in the corner of my eye. I run from it, straight to the scene of the shoot-out where Fyodor is on his knees screaming over the death of his daughter.

I run and the sun gives way to snow. Calling for help is useless as the snowstorm steals my words each time I open my mouth. I can’t find anyone. I’m alone with the deep, unsettled feeling that I chose to be here.

Trees crash down around me and I scream, making no noise until?—

Another crash and I jolt awake, drenched in sweat with my heart pounding. The room is a mess; chairs have been overturned, the door is flung open, and the wind sends the netting curtains spiraling through the air like ghosts. A choked-off gasp pulls my attention to the far side of the room, and fear grips me like the bitter cold of an early morning frost.

Fyodor has Zasha up against the wall, pinning him there by his throat.

“You did this!” Fyodor roars with fury. “You got my daughter nearly killed!”

29

NAOMI

“Fyodor! What are you doing?!”

With little thought to my nakedness, I fly out of the bed and toward the grappling men. My hands close around Fyodor’s bulging bicep and I throw all my weight into trying to pull him away from Zasha. He releases Zasha with one hand only to shake my grip free, then he’s back strangling him with all the strength he has.

I stumble backward, tripping over a corner of the rug in the process, then I turn and scan the room for anything I can use to drive the two of them apart. While I’m searching, Zasha surges off the wall and into Fyodor’s grasp, causing him to stumble backward. They grapple like animals, ready to tear each other’s throats out. Like Titans, they clash with fists and more. Zasha ends up on the floor with Fyodor on top of him, punching him repeatedly. Then Zasha is on top, throwing elbows into Fyodor’s ribs.

They roll together, snarling and grunting as blow after blow is exchanged and landed with such power. Nothing in the room gives me what I need, but I do spot a silk robe draped across the sole chair that’s survived the fight.

I slide it on, covering myself up, and then I scream in fright as glass shatters behind me. It jerks me right back to the restaurant and my heart punches up into my throat. Spinning on the spot, Fyodor and Zasha are nowhere to be seen. Their fight has taken them out through the window, and they fight on the paving stones outside.

“Fyodor! Zasha!”

I hurry after them, barely feeling the glass that bites into the soles of my feet. They don’t hear me, too caught up in whatever testosterone-fueled battle this is. On their feet, they fly at one another and each step brings them dangerously close to the calm, dark water of the pool.

“Daniil!” I yell, praying that if Fyodor is here then Daniil must be too. It’s a stroke of luck when he comes sprinting from the house, flying across the grass and stones toward us.

“Stop it!” I scream, running forward. “You’re going to end up in the?—”

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