Page 63 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
Yesterday was probably the first time we went a whole day without fighting. It felt really good, and we both had aglimpse of what our lives would look like if we learned to get along.
It would be simple, peaceful, and full of happiness. Not to mention a lot of good sex.
Yesterday ended in such a grand style, and even till now, I hadn’t been able to get the images out of my mind. I didn’t want to. Why would I, considering it was the best night of my life?
We’d had sex a couple of times before, but none of the times could be compared to last night. We didn’t just fuck; we made love, that kind that made me realize that I never wanted to lose her. The sex was unhurried—slow-paced as we took the time to explore each other’s bodies.
Even when she rode my cock, she did that knowing it was hers and hers alone. Her moans were music to my ears, and the mask of pleasure on her only fanned my desire. The very air in the room was filled with the scent of her arousal as her slow whines gradually drew me closer to the edge.
She gave me the best ride of my life, and I ended up filling her pussy with my load. But that was only the first round. We made love all night, tangling under the sheets and trying out different positions, on and off the bed.
She let me hit it from the back and from the side. We did it on the table by the window, did it against the wall. Even the couch in the bedroom wasn’t spared. She rode me in reverse, sucked my cock in the 69 position, sat on my face, and in the end, she dropped to her knees, giving me the best blowjob ever.
Wren was so good with her tongue that she had my legs trembling. She was good with her hands as well, and double action sent shockwaves across my body. She sucked, stroked my length, drooled, spat, and even choked on my cock. All that while looking up at my face.
Finally, we finished for the night with my load all over her face—as she’d requested. The feeling was erratic, draining me of strength afterwards.
This early morning, while lying in bed with her head on my chest, I couldn’t help but recall the breathtaking experience of last night. I lay on my back, facing the ceiling, replaying the scenes one after the other, over and over again.
I glanced down at her as she slept like a child, my fingers running through her golden blonde hair. She lay in my arms, naked under the sheets, a sight so tempting it made my shaft swell in my boxers.
If this were paradise, then I’d rather remain here, away from the rest of the world, for all eternity. This woman had changed my life forever, and I couldn’t picture a future without her in it.
I threw my hands under my head, letting my mind drift back to the events that happened yesterday. However, that bliss and pleasure were cut short when my senses picked up a strange signal.
The grin on my face disappeared immediately, replaced by caution and seriousness. I looked out the open window, my sharp eyes squinting as I caught movements within the trees outside. This wasn’t the leaves being rustled by the breeze. No. It was human beings, stealthy human beings trained to hide in the shadows.
I couldn’t see them, but I felt their presence. They’d found us. The Bratva had found us.
My attention was drawn to the quiet movement outside our bedroom door. Shit. They were in the house already. I snuck out of bed, grabbed the pistol on the nightstand, and tapped her shoulders.
She groaned lazily, and when she opened her eyes, I shushed her by placing my index finger over my lips. Obliviousto the danger around, her brows furrowed in confusion. Her gaze dropped to the gun in my hand, and her breath hitched in her throat.
“Get down,” I mouthed, gesturing under the bed.
Without wasting any time, she wrapped the sheets around her and rolled under the bed. Once she was safe, I cocked the gun and rushed to hide behind the door.
The first armed assailant pushed the door open and walked in, unaware of the danger behind him. I aimed my gun at him and squeezed a round at the back of his head. The gunshot rang out, disturbing the peace of the forest.
A low, muffled noise came from under the bed as the man’s dead body hit the floor, drowning in his own blood. Reflexively, I fired twice toward the window, and two other bodies dropped. One hung halfway over the window frame, the other did not even make it in; he died outside.
To lead them away from the bedroom, I rushed out the door, my heavy footsteps pounding against the wooden stairs. I spotted two men in the living room, their rifles aimed at me. My head ducked, and I jumped over the railing of the stairs in one strategic move.
They opened fire, bullets flying around, boring holes in the walls. I rolled over the floor, crouching low with the speed of a cheetah as frames, flower vases, and other objects crashed to the ground.
I did a calculated somersault to the back of the kitchen island and hid there, my back leaning against it. Bottles shattered, along with plates, their broken pieces flying violently through the space. I shielded my face from the shards as the counter absorbed the bullets shot at me.
The shooting stopped for a moment—they could either be reloading or maybe just taking a pause to check if I was hit. Whatever the case, this was my window.
Broken pieces of glass and ceramics crunched beneath boots as heavy footsteps approached the kitchen island, slow and cautious. I waited in silence until it was the right moment to strike, then I did. I stuck my head out the side of the counter and fired once, a bullet to my victim’s chest.
Alarmed, the other shot at me.
I crawled in the opposite direction, away from his aimless shot. The man was so oblivious that he didn’t even notice me when I was standing right behind him. I pointed the gun at the back of his head and pulled the trigger.
Fortunately for him, it clicked empty.
He turned around that instant, and I was quick to grab his hand before he squeezed a round. We struggled in the kitchen, neither yielding to the other’s strength. He fired multiple times, each shot vibrating through my body as I held on to the gun, aiming the barrel away from me.
