Page 23 of Captured By the Bratva

As we chat about her week and the party plans, I try to focus on the conversation, but I’m acutely aware of Kirill’s men watching the house. There’s one stationed downstairs, a silent sentinel in the shadows. I know they’re here for my protection, but their presence is a constant reminder of the danger that lurks outside.

I don’t say any of this to Sarah, not wanting to worry her or put her in danger. She’s my escape from this new reality, a connection to the life I used to know. I need that more than ever right now.

“So, what about you?” Sarah asks, tone lightening. “Any plans for the week, other than our lunch date?”

I pause, thinking about how to answer without revealing too much. “Just trying to take it one day at a time.”

“I hear you,” Sarah says gently. “You’ve been through a lot, and it’s important to take a break when you can.”

“I will,” I promise, touched by her concern.

We talk for a while longer, Sarah’s voice a soothing presence in the otherwise quiet house. She tells me more about her latest situationship, her plans for the weekend, and the gossip she’s heard about our old classmates. It’s comforting, a reminder that there’s still a world outside of the chaos my life has become.

Eventually, we say our goodbyes, and I hang up the phone, feeling a bit lighter. The sense of normalcy that Sarah brings is a precious gift, one that I cling to amidst the uncertainty.

Once Sarah and I bid farewell, I remain on my bed, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. Despite the normalcy Sarah brings, my thoughts inevitably drift back to Kirill. His presence, his intense gaze, his unwavering confidence—all of it occupies my mind, pushing everything else to the periphery.

I can’t deny the attraction I feel towards him. It’s a pull that’s as confusing as it is powerful. There’s something about the way he commands a room, the way he takes control of every situation, that draws me in. I replay the moments we’ve shared in my mind, each one adding to the simmering desire I’ve tried to ignore.

I close my eyes, imagining his deep, authoritative voice. “You’re under my protection now, Malyshka,” he said, the words echoing in my mind. The way he calls me Malyshka sends a shiver down my spine. It’s possessive, protective, and it makes me feel something I can’t quite put into words.

My hand drifts down to my panties, fingers darting across my folds. I let my fingers trace the edge, my breath hitching as I imagine Kirill’s hands instead of my own. His touch would be firm, commanding, yet somehow gentle. I can almost feel the roughness of his calloused fingers, the way they would explore and claim every inch of me.

In my mind, I see him standing over me, his green eyes dark with desire. “You belong to me,” he would say, his voice a low growl. The thought sends a wave of arousal through me, and I let out a soft moan, my fingers dipping beneath the fabric.

I imagine him taking control, his strong hands guiding me, his mouth exploring my skin. He would know exactly what to do, how to make me unravel with just a touch. “Trust me, follow my rules,” he would whisper, his breath hot against my ear. The thought of surrendering to him, of letting him take the lead, is intoxicating.

My fingers move with more urgency now, my body responding to the fantasy playing out in my mind. I imagine his lips on mine, the way he would kiss me with a fierce hunger, claiming me as his. His hands would roam my body, igniting a fire wherever they touched. “You’re mine, Malyshka,” he would say, and I bite back a moan.

The sensations build, my body trembling with anticipation. I can almost hear his voice, feel his presence, as if he’s right there with me. “Let go,” he would command, and I would, surrendering to the pleasure, to him.

My breath quickens, my fingers moving faster, and I feel the tension coiling tighter within me. The fantasy of Kirill, his dominance, his unwavering control, push me closer to the edge. I imagine his voice, firm and soothing, guiding me through the waves of pleasure. “Come for me,” he would say, and I would, my body obeying his every command.

The release is intense, a wave of pleasure that crashes over me, leaving me breathless and trembling. I let out a soft cry, my body arching off the bed as I ride the waves of my orgasm. For a moment, all I can think about is Kirill, his voice, his touch, and the way he makes me feel.

As the sensations begin to fade, I collapse back onto the bed, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The room is quiet, the only sound the beating of my heart and the faint rustle of the sheets. I feel a mix of satisfaction and confusion, my mind struggling to process the intensity of my feelings for Kirill.

I know I shouldn’t feel this way about him. He’s dangerous, a man who lives in a world of violence and power. There’s something about him that I can’t resist, something that draws me in despite the danger.

As I lay there, my body still tingling from the aftershocks, I try to make sense of it all. Kirill is a mystery, a man who both terrifies and fascinates me. I don’t know what the future holds, but I can’t deny the lust I feel for him, the pull that keeps drawing me back.

Just as I’m starting to drift into a haze of relaxation, a sudden knock on the door startles me. My heart leaps into my throat, and I quickly sit up, pulling the covers around me.

“Miss Harrison, are you okay?” It’s one of the bodyguards, his voice muffled through the door.

Embarrassment floods through me. Had I been that loud? I clear my throat, trying to steady my voice. “Yes, I’m fine,” I call out, hoping he’ll leave it at that.

“Are you sure?” he persists. “Do you need me to come in?”

“No!” I say quickly, my cheeks burning. “I’m really fine. Just, um, had a bad dream. I’m okay now. Thank you.”

There’s a pause, then I hear him retreating back downstairs. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my face still hot with embarrassment. The last thing I need is a bodyguard barging in right now.

I slide out of bed, my legs still a bit shaky, and head to the bathroom. I need to cool off, clear my head. The shower is a welcome relief, the cool water washing away the lingering heat from my skin. I stand under the spray, letting it soothe my frazzled nerves, my thoughts still a jumbled mess of emotions and desires.

As the water cascades over me, I try to push thoughts of Kirill aside, but it’s no use. His face, his voice, the way he looks at me—it’s all imprinted in my mind. I can’t escape it, no matter how hard I try.

After a few minutes, I turn off the shower and step out, wrapping a towel around myself. The bathroom is steamy, the mirror fogged over. I wipe a hand across it, catching a glimpse of my reflection. My eyes look a little wild, my cheeks still flushed. I shake my head at myself, a wry smile tugging at my lips.

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