Page 22 of Claimed By the Masked BRATVA
The thought makes my blood turn lethal.
I saw their eyes on her that night. Antonov. Dragunov. Even Ivanov, though he tried to mask it behind a polite smile. They all noticed her innocence, her authenticity, the way she didn’t play their games. They wanted her because she was different.
But different is mine.
I rise carefully, tugging on my trousers, padding barefoot to the window. The city sprawls below, restless and greedy. I’ve spent years building my throne here, holding territory with blood and steel. Yet for the first time, I feel the weight of risk. Because they’ll remember her. And they’ll test me by reaching for her.
They won’t live long enough to regret it.
Behind me, she stirs. A soft sound escapes her throat. My chest tightens at the vulnerability in it. I return to the bed, sliding back under the sheets, pulling her against me. She blinks awake slowly, confusion giving way to warmth when she sees me.
“Morning,” she whispers.
“Morning,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her temple.
She stretches, wincing faintly. I smirk. “Sore?”
Her blush answers before her words do. “You don’t play fair.”
“I don’t play at all.” I roll her onto her back, bracing myself over her, caging her with my arms. “And I’m not finished.”
Her breath hitches.
I kiss her before she can protest, slow and consuming. She melts beneath me, hands clutching my shoulders, legs parting instinctively. My cock hardens instantly, pressing against her thigh.
I slide inside her in one deep stroke, groaning as her body grips me, still tender from the night before. She gasps, nails digging into my back.
“Mine,” I growl against her mouth, setting a steady rhythm. “Every inch of you. Every sound. Every heartbeat.”
“Yes,” she moans, arching up to meet me. “Yours.”
The word unchains me. I take her harder, deeper, grinding until she cries out, her voice breaking on my name. I cup her jaw, forcing her eyes open, making her look at me as I ruin her again.
“Remember this,” I snarl. “When anyone else dares look at you. When they whisper about you behind their masks. Remember who you belong to.”
Her climax rips through her, violent and helpless. She shudders, convulsing around me, her scream muffled by my mouth. The tight clutch of her body drags me over the edge, and I spill inside her with a groan, grinding deeper, filling her until she trembles with the force of it.
When it’s over, I don’t pull out. I collapse on top of her, my face buried in her neck, my cock still pulsing inside her. Herhands stroke my back, soft and hesitant, as though she doesn’t yet realize what she’s done.
“You’ll carry me with you now,” I rasp. “Every step you take, you’ll feel me. You’ll know you’re not alone anymore.”
Her whisper is shaky but certain. “I don’t want to be.”
The admission detonates in my chest. I lift my head, meeting her eyes. They’re clear, unguarded, filled with a trust I don’t deserve but will never relinquish.
I kiss her again, gentler this time, sealing the vow between us.
Later, we sit at the long glass table in the kitchen. She wears one of my shirts, sleeves rolled up, her hair still damp from the shower. She looks out of place among the steel and marble, yet she brightens the space more than any chandelier ever could.
She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing at me nervously. “Sebastian… my work. The lab. I can’t just disappear forever.”
“You won’t,” I say simply.
Her brow furrows. “Then how—”
“You’ll keep doing your research,” I interrupt. “But you won’t be alone. I’ll make sure you have the funding, the resources, the protection you need. You’ll have everything.”
Her lips part. “You’d…do that for me?”
