Page 9 of Owned By The Bratva King

It’s getting lighter now. I go to the window and rest my forehead on the glass, watching midtown get up for the day. It’s strange to be elevated above the streets, looking down on thousands of citizens as they scurry around, living their lives.

Of all the people who could have encountered Roman in the early hours, why did he find me?

I can’t determine whether he’s a valiant knight in shining armor or the dragon holding me captive. The view from my tower is not clear. The memory of his gentle yet dominant touch lingers as a faint but undeniable tingle on my neck.

He’s dangerous all right, but is he dangerous to me?

A digital clock on the coffee table reads seven a.m. It’s only been an hour since Roman barged into the shop and hijacked my life. Incredible the havoc one man can cause in sixty minutes.

With that, the stress crashes out of my system. There’s nothing I can do about any of this. I’m weary to my bones and too beat down to care.

I should shower and wash the bakery grime away, but my eyelids are growing heavier by the second. It’s all I can do to go to the bathroom and splash my face with water before stumbling back to the bedroom.

Of course, my door has no lock, but I’m too exhausted to worry about it. If Roman wanted to get in, no force on Earth could stop him, but I doubt my natural allure would compel him to visit me. I may as well sleep while I can, and when I wake up, it’ll be to a text from Jeanette telling me not to bother returning to work.

I strip to my panties and pull on a camisole before climbing into bed. It’s soft, and I sink gratefully into the mattress. It’s been a long time since I slept on something so comfortable. As I drift off, the memory of harsh voices fades, replaced by a sense of peace that pulls me under.

A nap, that’s all I need. A short rest to catch up.

7

Roman

Idismiss the men Serge called; after what Leon said, my guard is up, and I want no one near me unless their loyalty is beyond question. Betrayal is a sharp knife, and I’ve felt its sting before.

The suite is brightening as the day takes hold, but the damask drapes in the bedrooms block every speck of light. All I have to do now is swing left to my room, settle in, and get some rest. God knows I need it; painkillers and whiskey are a cocktail that doesn’t agree with me, and my head is throbbing.

So it’s interesting to observe that I’m not doing that. I’m standing in the lounge knowing precisely what’s gonna happen instead and enjoying the perverse thrill it gives me.

Is this an unforgivable invasion of her privacy? Fuck yes. That’s what has me as hard as a diamond. I’m not a man who does anything by halves, and this little baker makes me contemplate things I’ve never wanted.

My feet make no sound on the plush carpet, and Quinn’s bedroom door handle is silent. The curtains are closed, and the lamplight casts a warm glow. As I suspected, she sleeps the heavy, dreamless sleep of someone who needs it. Nothing short of an air horn would wake her now.

I shuck off my shoes and sit on the floor near the window, where I have a good view of her body as it rises and falls beneath the duvet. She’s facing me, the cover pulled to her chin, her hair loose and wild.

Fuck me. My cock is already stirring, and there’s nothing to see; my fantasies are enough. Did she make use of the clothes I got for her, or is she naked under there?

My erection is giving me a problem, so I undo my belt and fly buttons to make space for it. Quinn rolls away, sighing as she does so, and I groan, leaning against the glass.

The smallest of gestures has my libido straining at its leash. All I want is to watch those pretty eyes roll back in her head as I bottom out in her sweet little cunt.

She shifts her leg, taking the duvet with it, and I feast my eyes on her ass and creamy, pale skin. Her pink panties stretch over her flesh, and I can just glimpse her plump pussy lips at the edge of the shadow.

It may be the light or my fevered imagination, but I’d swear she’s wet, a sliver of dampness darkening the fabric. I reach for my cock, sliding my hand over the length to help ease the painful throbbing in my veins.

I could tell myself I never planned to masturbate in her room while she slept, but it’d be a lie. I knew I was gonna jerk off in her presence and without her knowledge before I even put my hand on her bedroom door handle.

My cock is thicker and harder than ever. It won’t take much to get me there; I’m primed by the proximity to Quinn and the intrusive thoughts I’ve been having.

She’s had my undivided attention since I first saw her, illuminated by a pool of cold light on the street outside her bakery, her breath making little clouds in the frigid air. I want to feel that breath on my face as she moans beneath me.

I dare to move closer, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. Quinn’s hair is swept over her shoulder, revealing her tender nape, pale and delectable. The scent of confectioner’s sugar fills my nostrils.

The poor girl passed out as soon as she found a place to lie down. She didn’t even shower. She must have been baking for hours, preparing for the day ahead.

I pump my cock harder, the pressure building deep in my abdomen. I could come without touching her, but I can’t resist. She’s right there, inches away and oblivious.

I breathe through my nose and hold it in my lungs; she smells of sugar and spice. And all things nice, because that’s what good girls are made of.

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