Page 5 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
Is that a euphemism for wanting him to fuck me on every available surface while he gazes into my eyes and says I’m not done with you yet?
The text message is printed behind my eyelids with indelible ink. I haven’t even gotten started with Cartier Black yet, and I feel an insatiable itch somewhere inside my skull that’s already wanting more. So fucking much more.
“She’s Gianna’s friend.”
I meet my brother’s gaze. “Is that the best you can come up with?”
“I don’t want you to…” He clearly didn’t think this through before warning me to back off.
“Show her a good time?” I suggest.
Gianna’s eyes flash my way. “Cartier is quiet. She would rather stay at home with a good book than go out and get drunk.”
She’s intelligent. I gathered that much when she used the word euphemism to describe what she wanted me to do to her. “Maybe she never met the right people before.”
Gianna turns her face away from me and kisses the tip of her daughter’s nose. I’m not so clueless that I don’t realize it’s a distraction.
Our relationship didn’t get off to a great start. When Leonid arranged her abduction and subsequent imprisonment in his home, I didn’t expect him to fall for the printzessa. So, I might have flirted with her a little. I might’ve even told her stuff about my brother that he didn’t want her to know. But I’m the younger son of the previous pakhan. The under boss. I have to get my kicks wherever I can.
“The right people being you.” Leonid sighs heavily.
“Sure. Why not? All work and no play makes Cartier a very dull girl, and if I can put a smile on her face…”
My cock twitches inside my pants at the mental image of Cartier with a smile on her face. In my head she’s naked. Her skin is flushed from where I fucked her all over my apartment, and there’s a gleam in her green-hazel eyes that says she wants more as I lean closer and fist her caramel-blonde hair.
The woman is fucking stunning. I’d have gotten more involved in setting up the refuge if I’d known that Gianna’s friend was a walking sex bomb, but she kept that valuable piece of information to herself.
Cartier Black should not be trapped inside a dingy apartment with her nose inside a book.
She deserves to be seen. Her shine should not be dimmed by work and boredom. And I can’t believe I’m even thinking this when I only just met her, but I want to be the one to light up her face when I enter a room.
The way she looked at me was the biggest buzz. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me that way before, and I’m not about to let her walk straight back out of my life, whatever my brother and Gianna have to say about it.
“Andrej,” Gianna says softly. “Please don’t hurt her.”
Because that’s everyone’s default concern when I’m involved. They should learn to separate work from pleasure like I do. I’m tempted to remind my sister-in-law that when I hurt people it’s generally on my brother’s orders and because they deserve it.
Generally.
When people cross the Ivanovs, they must be taught a lesson. That’s how it works in our world. Kill or be killed. And I’m not planning on losing my life to the enemy any time soon.
Besides, Cartier isn’t the enemy. She’s a drop-dead gorgeous woman, and I want to learn everything there is to learn about her. I want to explore that fabulous body inside and out. I want to fuck her till she can’t walk and do things to her that I’ve never done to anyone else. But hurt her? No.
“Hurting her is the last thing I want.”
“You forget that I’ve heard that before,” Leonid says.
“This is different.”
I don’t need to justify myself to my brother, and in any other circumstances, I’d have walked out of this room already, caughtup with Cartier, and offered her a ride to the refuge that she couldn’t refuse. I can’t explain it, but I want to do things the right way this time. I don’t want to fuck it up by giving her the regular Andrej Ivanov treatment.
I want her to want me too.
“Why should we believe you?”
I shrug. “Because it’s the truth.”
Gianna has been so absorbed by the baby in her arms that I forgot she was even following the conversation. Now she peers at her husband and says, “I believe him.”
