Page 49 of Bratva Knight

“I bet pants.”

I looked at my cards. I now had two pairs. Not a bad hand, but not necessarily a great one, either.

I could match, and probably lose, or raise it. Bluff the shit out of him and hope he folded.

Go big or go home.

“Raise. Pantsandunderwear.”

He arched an eyebrow. He glanced at his cards and then back to me, calculation in his gaze. I put on a calm, casual air, hoping he would see it as me being confident in my cards. I should have known better though. Nikolai could read me like a fucking book.

“Match.”

Shit.

He showed me his cards first and I wanted to pull my damn hair out. I wasn’t a big sore loser, like Illayana. But still, I didn’t like to lose. Nobody did.

He had three 7s and two Ks—a full house. His full house beat my shitty two-pair any day.

The wolfish smirk on his face sent my heart racing. He leant back, casual as you please, and waited, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. I wasn’t the type to back out. I got to my feet and didn’t hesitate to pull my shorts and underwear down, stepping out of them.

Nikolai’s whole body locked in place. He was deathly still, his eyes plastered to my pussy. I couldn’t blame him. I kept my girl clean and very well groomed. Water and pineapple were a part of my daily diet.

“Turn around,” he commanded harshly.

“Is that your dare?” I asked, my tone light, playful.

“More like a polite request.”

“A request usually comes with the word ‘please’.”

“You don’t like it when I use the word ‘please’. It's too soft for you. Turn the fuck around.”

Goosebumps broke out over my entire body. He was right. In this context, I didn’t like when he said “please”. I craved that rough, dominating side of his personality in moments like this. Where he told me what to do, what to say, when I could come.

But you can bet your ass that if this was any other scenario—like him asking me to make him a sandwich or something—he better damn well use the word “please”. Otherwise, I’d cut his balls off and hang them on my Christmas tree as decorations.

I turned slowly, giving him plenty of time to admire the view. When I faced him again, his hands were clenched into fists, squeezing so hard that his knuckles turned white. It was like he was using all his strength to keep his hands right where they were.

His eyes were wild. Full of hunger and desperation. I liked it when he was desperate. He was more savage then.

“Your dare,” he started, cracking his neck. “Sit on the table with your legs spread wide, facing me. I want a good look at that pretty pink pussy.Mypretty pink pussy.”

Oh, you—

That was a good one. A really good one. Lucky for me, and I guess him, there wasn’t a shred of self-consciousness left in my body. Nikolai had fucked those thoughts right out of me.

For the whole time we were together, and even well after, he showered me with compliments. They weren’t always about my appearance either. He complimented my mind. My resilience. The loyalty I had for those I cared about.

I climbed up onto the table, scooching forward until I was right in front of him, and spread my legs as far as they could go, giving him a completely unobstructed view.

His heated gaze was locked firmly on my pussy and I trembled. The look he was giving me made me so fucking wet, it was literally dripping out of me onto the table.

I was so turned on, I could barely breathe.

Nikolai leant forward and swiped his finger through the small puddle of my wetness, bringing it to his lips. “Your deal,” he rumbled, sucking it into his mouth.

My clitthrobbed. I’d never been so desperate for him before. For his cock. His tongue. For fucking everything.

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