Page 18 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
I may have left a mark on his skin, but Yulian that night had left a mark on my soul. The way he kissed me, slow and passionate, sent tremors down my core. He took his time with me, exploring my body, whispering in my ears, and tracing my curves. It was safe to say that Yulian worshipped my body, and when he looked at me, like I was something fragile, I felt butterflies in my belly.
It was strange how he manipulated my emotions and made me desire him more than I ever had anyone or anything before. My body had given in to him, and he didn’t even need to try hard. At first, it was embarrassing, and I thought he might think I was cheap. But no. The man adored me, made love to me, and made me feel like a woman.
He was a real man, one who knew exactly where to touch, when to touch, and how to touch me. Because of his expertise, I orgasmed multiple times, squirted even, which was strangeconsidering that I rarely squirt. Yet, this incredibly attractive man made my dam explode with just his fingers and his tongue.
Images of his rigged frame occupied my mind, distracting me from work. My thighs brushed against each other, a gesture prompted by the tingling sensation between my legs. My nipples hardened, my breath was labored, and suddenly, it was hot in here.
I stared at the spreadsheet on my lit monitor, my chest heaving slowly in an attempt to gain control of my thoughts. My heart was starting to race, my pulse quickening as illicit images of us together tugged at my mind.
Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? It was just a one-night stand; it shouldn’t mean anything to me. Right?
Each time my phone chimed or buzzed, I’d rush to check if it was an incoming call or text from him. But every time, I ended up disappointed. It was silly to hope that he’d reach out to me when I knew deep down that I was probably just another woman he’d slept with.
Nothing special about me.
Holding on to a false hope was worse than not having any hope at all. He was cute, we went out, had sex, and now he’d moved on with his life like I never existed, like we never happened. It was high time I let go of this memory that was never meant to last. The sooner I did that, the better for me.
“Earth to Sharpe.” A voice pierced through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present.
I raised my chin, eyes settling on Dean as he towered over me, his tie loose around his neck. He leaned against the edge of my desk, arms across his chest, with a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“What?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression darkening.
“Is it a dude?” He wiggled his brows playfully.
“What?” I repeated, tilting my head slightly to the side.
“Come on, you’ve been distracted all day, and that’s unlike you,” he said, holding my gaze.
“You’re such an idiot, Dean,” Jenny chipped in from her desk.
“What’d I do?” He shrugged his shoulders, eyes shifting toward her.
“You assumed that she’s distracted because she’s thinking about a man, like her life revolves around men,” she explained.
He paused, his mouth shaped like an “O” with a finger in the air. “Okay, I didnotsay that,” his tone was mild but defensive.
“She might be going through a midlife crisis, douchebag. Not everything’s about you men, you know,” Jenny said, reclining in her chair.
“Alright, pumpkin, first, that’s sexist. And second, do you honestly think that I can’t tell the difference between a midlife crisis and a good old heartbreak?” Dean shot back.
“Wait, hold on a second.” Skinny Sam joined in on the conversation, his tone laced with curiosity. “Are you insinuating that someone broke Eater’s heart? Is that even possible?”
“Oh, God. Great,” I murmured to myself, head lowered, fingers rubbing my eyes.
“I think the real question is: Dean, since when did you become an expert in human psychology?” Greg from across the office chipped in.
Yep. That’s how my nosy colleagues noticed my odd behavior and talked about me as if I wasn’t right there with them. I gotta admit, though, it was funny watching them debate my feelings and argue over what they thought about me.
As wild as Dean’s speculation was, there was a glint of truth in his assumption. Iwasdistracted because of a man, and maybe that weak, vulnerable part of me was heartbroken that I’d never see Yulian again.
***
Tonight, my apartment smelled like buttery popcorn mixed with the faintest trace of jasmine from a half-burned candle on the windowsill. On the floor, a half-empty box of pizza, along with a pile of wrappers from our favorite snack binge, sat between Leona and me.
She was here for moral support, to offer her shoulder and a few words of comfort. Except Leona West wasn’t exactly the mushy type or the kind of friend who tiptoed around your feelings, careful not to hurt them. The girl was blunt, unapologetically so. If something needed saying, you could be damn sure that she’d say it—whether you were ready to hear it or not.
I was seated on the floor, my back against the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands. Leona sat beside me, her long red hair flowing over her shoulders like a river of blood. “Oh, come on, how’s that fair?!” she yelled at the TV, eyes fixed on the characters from the show we were watching.
