Page 62 of Sexting the Bratva Beast
Her cheeks flush even brighter. “Like what?”
I move closer, the bulge in my pants already growing uncomfortable. It’s too soon, I tell myself. She needs time to forgive me for bringing her here against her will. But when she looks at me that way, with her eyes slanted like she knowsexactly how to turn me on, it’s hard to ignore my pumped-up balls.
God-fucking-dammit!
I clench my fists, my jaw, every muscle in my body to stop myself from spinning her around, leaning her over the counter, and fucking her from behind.
“There’s something I want to show you.”
She licks her lips suggestively and squeals when I take her hand and lead her out of the kitchen and to a staircase that leads underground.
“Are you going to show me your dungeon?”
Her voice teases every nerve ending in my body as the spotlights sunk into the ceiling are activated the deeper we go.
“Yes.” I growl because the feel of her hand in mine has me rutting like a feral animal.
How is it even possible? She’s holding my hand, fully clothed, her nose turning pink from the chill down here, and my body is still responding to the way she makes me feel when she’s completely naked with her legs wide open and her beautiful fucking pussy begging me to suck her dry.
“Really?” I can’t help smiling at the note of panic in her voice now. “There’s a dungeon down here?”
“It isn’t what you think.” I stop outside a heavy metal door and punch a code into the alarm system on the wall. “Although I could build you a dungeon if it will make you happy.”
I open the door and gesture for Cartier to follow me inside.
The room is small, barely enough for two people, with a low ceiling, a single table, and walls made of reinforced steel like a bank vault. Because that’s what this is. A vault. It’s claustrophobic. When I was a child, I would find it hard to breathe down here, which is one of the reasons why I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve visited the room.
The door automatically clangs shut behind us, making Cartier jump.
“It’s okay. We’re not trapped.”
I hold her gaze until she nods, rubbing her arms to keep herself warm, then I press a button on the wall and open a concealed drawer.
“What is this place?” There’s a tremor in her voice.
“This is where we keep the family jewels.”
“For real?” Her voice rises a notch. “You have family jewels? I thought it was only royal families that had secret vaults and jewels worth hiding.”
I place an indigo velvet pouch on the table in the middle of the room and unwrap it to reveal the jewels inside. She gasps, leaning over the sparkling gems, eyes wide and lips parted. I see them reflected in her eyes, emeralds and diamonds shimmering across her hazel pupils like the ocean, and my chest swells with pride.
“Can I touch them?” She peers up at me, and I nod.
I didn’t bring her down here to show off. I wanted her to see the jewels because I thought that she would appreciate them. And, I realize now, because I can’t think of anyone else in the world who I would rather see wearing them.
“The necklace—” I point to a heavy string of emeralds with a huge stone surrounded by Russian diamonds and set inside a silver pendant “—dates back to the reign of Empress Catherine the Great.”
“It’s beautiful.” Cartier traces the gleaming emeralds with her fingertips. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Would you like to try it on?”
“Can I?” She furrows her brow. “It won’t trigger an alarm if I pick it up, will it? I don’t want to be trapped down here, wasting away while we wait for Ivana to find us.” A nervous chuckle escapes her lips.
I pick up the pendant. “See, no alarm. Turn around.”
She turns around, brushing her hair forward so that I can fasten the clasp at the back of her neck. My knuckles brush her warm skin sending a spark of electricity down my spine.
When she faces me again, the pendant nestled between her breasts over her sweater, she peers at me while her fingers caress the heavy gems. “It’s so heavy.”
