Page 4 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

“Yeah, who else did you think it would be from?” I ask him, Sergei crossing his arms as Willy turns to the door attempting to run out of it. Sergei beats him to it, using his foot as a door stopper. Me dropping the narcotics division a bag of cash every month usually shuts them up, but there always has to be some rogue-justice-seeking vigilante who wants to be seen as the one to be cleaning up the streets of Chicago.

“Where are you going so fast?” Sergei asks Willy in a low tone.

“I’m telling you; you’re not going to get away with this—” Willy Dee doesn’t get the chance to finish his last sentence. Instead, I shoot him right between the eyes. A nice clean bullet, a tiny pop, courtesy of the silencer and a click of the fingers in order for Sergei to execute the next part of the plan.

Sliding the gun back in my holster, I pivot, leaving Sergei to clean up the mess. It’s guaranteed that in the next two to three hours, a man will be sitting on the black leather couch getting his dick sucked by one of the cage girls. If they want to make extra coins outside of dancing, they can, who am I to stop them?

Now.Back to my prior plans…. I head to the washroom on the floor first making sure nobody’s in there, cleaning up the tiny speckles of blood on my jacket and off my hands before returning to the RnB floor.

Okay, the smoking hot brunette is still there, and probably looking even better under the glare of the strobe lights than before. But this time, she’s seen me. Her magnetic light caramel eyes seem to shimmer, and her captivating smile only adds to her allure. Sucking in a sharp breath, I smile back.

You might be the perfect escape for the night.Losing myself in an orgasm or five with her wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Not that I need an escape from killing Willy Dee. Some men need to die. Others, I regret killing for one reason oranother. My temper can get the best of me at times, and really, I should think some things through a little more I admit, but this thick, sexy woman on the dance floor might be just the thing.

I watch her body groove like water, her hair swaying to the dirty beats of an illicit song. My dick swells inside my slacks as I stand near the railing in the same spot as before. Her girlfriends are dancing all around her, but they don’t have the same glistening halo that she does.

She’s the perfect no-strings mistake for me to bury myself in. No emotions. No harm. Just a good time for both of us, if she’s up for it.

Chapter Three - Emily

“You’ve got an admirer. And he’sbaaack,” Kiara swoons, twirling around me like a fairy as I laugh on a tipsy club high. I might not go out that much, but the one thing I’ve always been able to do is dance. And once I let loose and feel the pulse of the music running through my veins, I’ve soon forgotten all my problems.

“I know he’s looking. We made eye contact,” I remind Kiara, giggling for the first time in what feels like months. It’s nice to put my problems and guilt on the shelf for a few alcohol-enhanced hours, especially when there’s a tall, hot, shaggy-haired stranger checking out my moves.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Stacy threatens, issuing the challenge as one of my favorite tracks blends effortlessly with a DJ mix, the dance floor packing out because of it.

“I’m not going to do anything,” I tell her breathlessly, sneaking a quick glance in the hot guy’s direction. I swore I saw him earlier in the night, but he left for a little while. At least that’s what I think happened. I’ve been dancing my ass off, so I can’t recall clearly. “But I tell you what I am going to do, and that is get another drink. My throat is dry.”

“I’m coming with!” Kiara chimes in, the glitter on her eyelids sparkling through the dim lights.

“Phew! What a night,” I say as I head to the bar. We’re in close proximity to it, and so is the handsome guy who keeps staring in my direction. Even if it is darker, I can see the striking green piercing through his eyes. I like the fact that he’s tall, and that his hair hangs in his eyes almost as if he hasn’t brushed it, but I’m sure he has, and that’s just the style he’s rocking.Ordering at the bar, I don’t want to overdo it, so I try to talk to Kiara and Stacy, but they’re too busy egging me on.

“He wants you bad. He can’t take his eyes off you, and who can blame him with all the curves you have,” Kiara points out as I face with my back to the bar.

“He is cute. I wonder if he’s a hockey player or something. He’s so tall, and he looks like he works out a lot. Do you think he’s some celebrity athlete or whatever?” Stacy speculates as I tilt my head.

“Mmm, nah, I don’t think so. He probably just works out,” I reply, joining in the game of “let’s guess what the hot stranger does.”

“Maybe, but he’s wearing a jacket, and there’s a lot of muscle packed underneath it. I want him to take it off so we can see what’s going on…,” Kiara says, adjusting her position near the bar to get a closer look. She’s not being very inconspicuous, so I have to drag her back.

“Kiara Jones! Can you please stop it? You’ve seen hot guys before. You don’t need to stalk the guy,” I say, but secretly I’m enjoying the eye contact with him. There’s something about him that’s a little bit edgy, and together with alcohol, it’s the right amount of chemicals in my system to give me a high.

“Please, Emily. He’s looking straight at you, and luckily my telepathic coat request has been noted, and he’s taking off the jacket. Shit. You gotta see this,” she whispers, leaning in close as I sip on my drink through the straw discreetly looking up in the man’s direction.

A black collared shirt with something shiny and silver dangling around his neck, and he’s speaking to some guy about something or another. Squinting, I see the guy he’s talking to is the security guy. I’m pretty sure it is. Hmm, he must know himor be a frequent visitor to the club if they’re talking on such friendly terms.

He nods firmly, his friendly, open face changing for a second, but I can’t make out what the face is. Upset? Anger? He’s hard to read. My pulse thumps hard in my wrist as I slurp on my drink through the straw, watching—surveying to get a gauge on the guy. There’s something about him, and I’m curious enough to find out.

“Ah, hello! Emily. Did you not hear us talking to you?” Stacy remarks flabbergasted at my obliviousness to her.

“Sorry, what? I was—”

“Ah yah, clearly you were engrossed with the guy over there. Why don’t you go talk to him already, Miss Detective. You two have some major eye-fucking going on, and frankly, it’s becoming sickening, so why don’t you head up there and talk to him?”

It can’t be hard. I interview strangers, criminals and victims every day. Giggling, I start off with wave in the man’s direction, and he holds up his palm as a gesture of a wave back. “He should come and talk to me.”

Kiara slides a pushy hand onto my back. “No. You should go and talk to him. He probably thinks you only want to stay stuck with us. Go on, get up there and get him! You deserve this.”

Folding my bottom lip in and applying the “fuck-it” clause, I knock back my gin and tonic, but I can’t go up there empty-handed. “Hang on, hang on. I need another drink first.”

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