Page 31 of Captivated By the Bratva

I never understood how a woman would be considered slutty for ever talking back. Like that idiot in the bar assumed, a woman with backbone somehow meant she was playing hard to get.

Stupid men.

That generalization didn’t apply to Maxim, though. It couldn’t. I didn’tknowhim. I’d just met him, technically, and under weird circumstances with him hunting me down to deliver me to my fiancé.

Maxim, whoever he was, was a master. He called me a slut and a bad girl, likely not actually meaning it but realizing how much that degrading, naughty talk turned me on. He spanked me once he noticed how much I liked it, somehow unearthing and discovering a dormant need for pain I’d never known I had.

That Valkov brother wasn’t stupid, but oh, so skilled to blow my mind. It wasalmostenough to make me forget that he’d taken my virginity.

No. He didn’t take it.

I smiled, still keeping my eyes closed.

I gave it to him. Only him.

No one else would claim me like that. I’d decided, perhaps rashly, that I wanted Maxim’s hard dick inside me before any other. I chose it. And with a lifetime of knowing I was supposed to belong to some old, creepy man I had no desire to even meet, it was a powerful thing to make such a decision about my virginity.

I was damned glad I lost it to Maxim. Opening my eyes, I sought him out and wondered if he might be interested in breaking me in more.

He stood to the side of the room, peering out the window. Curtains were pulled closed, but with the tip of his finger, he slitted the drapes to peek outside.

Without moving much, I stayed out of his range of sight. Having this rare moment just to gaze at him was a treat I doubted I’d get a repeat of. I wanted to look my fill. To check him out. To really get a good look at the sexy, powerful man who'd fucked me so well and unexpectedly last night.

His thick brown hair fell over his brow, and the shading over his face lent him more mysteriousness. It wasn’t long enough to tie back, but if he hadn’t bound my hands like he had, I would’ve wanted to grip it and feel how soft it was.

The lean, sharp angles on his face made him more rugged, and as he frowned, watching out the window, I was struck with how quickly he could change. He was a charmer, a cocky, arrogant man who had to know exactly how good-looking he was. He was aware and used his fine looks to his advantage, but at the same time, I knew firsthand how he could shift into a more serious, sensual, and commanding mood. Like he had when he teased me and fucked me last night.

Now, though, he was serious. Locked in concentration. He was pensive and seemed deep in thought, and I realized I’d be a fool to dismiss him as just another charmer.

Maxim had layers. And I wanted to peel them back and see who the real man was.

“Sleep well?” His deep voice floated to me, husky and smooth.

I smirked. He knew I’d been looking at him. He had yet to make eye contact with me, and I learned a second, quick lesson I would be stupid to ignore.

He wasn’t just a stupid charmer. He was observant to the point of not missing anything.

“Do you care?” I sassed back.

He shrugged, and that nonanswer seemed like both a yes and no at the same time.

He’d cared to clean me up last night. I just barely registered that before I drifted into a deep sleep. He’d taken the time to carry me to the bed when I fumbled to stand and speak.

And what could I have said, anyway? When he pulled out of me, I was overwhelmed by the intensity of having my first real orgasm. He’d stunned me, leaving me so confused. Not only was I floundering to figure out why he’d fucked me when he was well aware that I was supposed to be Lev’s bride, but I was also scrambling—then and now—to understand why I reacted the way I had.

Maxim orchestrated my arousal and commandeered my body so skillfully that he’d prompted me to learn new things about myself. That the right kind of pain could precede the sweetest pleasure.

It wasn’t rational for me to like it so much. It was wrong for me to want more of his hard hand on my ass, his fingers rubbing my clit, and his thickness shoving into me without pause.

He knows it, too.

Coming like he demanded me to, I’d shown how vulnerable I could be around him. I wasn’t practiced to know how to tame my arousal and shut it down. I was too inexperienced to know how to handle a man like him. On one hand, I wished he could be my teacher, my instructor, and show me how good it could be. But on the other hand, I feared him more.

He knew how easily he could turn me into putty, and I was instantly warier of him than I had been before.

“What are you watching?” I asked instead. He hadn’t moved away from the window, still tense and alert.

“Men have been driving by.” As if on cue, the distant roar of a motorbike zoomed by. It’d been raining too hard last night for me to notice where the house was that we’d broken into. With the steady deluge and the jungle looking all the same—green and wet—I hadn’t noticed how near the rugged road we were.

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