Page 13 of Caught By the Bratva Boss

I give her what she wants, working her pussy until she’s shaking and gasping for air, and then I do what needs to be done, even if it means she’ll hate me for it. Sliding my fingers back into her one last time, I let myself enjoy this moment, memorizing every detail of how she feels and looks, and right when she gives me the sweetest smile that makes my heart clench, I grit my teeth and pull my hand out, wiping my wet fingers across her mouth so her face is smeared with her arousal. I ignore the hurt look on her face and the tears I see springing to her eyes.

Leaning in, I run my tongue over her bottom lip, unable to resist the temptation of tasting her just this once. The whimper she lets out hurts me in a way that nothing else ever has, but this is what’s best for her. I know it, even if I don’t like it.

“What was that about not being a little whore?” I ask, letting out a harsh laugh that has tears spilling from her eyes even as the taste of her fills my mouth and threatens to consume me.

“Don’t rinse that off, sweetheart. I want you to walk around with your guilt all over your face. I want you to remember how you came so easily for me.” I give her bottom lip a soft bite. “I want you to remember how you fucking begged me for it and then moaned my name when you came all over my hand.”

She lets out a sob when I let go of her and take a step back.

“Let’s go. We have fucking work to do.”

Chapter5

Charlotte

Ilook up at Mikhail, wondering how any man can be so damn cruel. He eyes me like I’m nothing. I want to scream and rage and pull my hair and wipe my guilt off my face until my skin is raw and stinging. I’d given him exactly what he wanted. He wanted to humiliate me, and I walked right into his trap. Just the thought of how I’d whimpered and begged him to make me come has more tears springing to my eyes. For one brief moment, I’d allowed myself to think that this might mean something to him, but it hadn’t. I’m just another woman, one of many I’m guessing, who’ve let Mikhail Fedorov’s hand down their pants.

I turn my eyes from him, promising myself that I won’t look at him ever again. It’s not much of a punishment, but it’s all I have. With my eyes glued to the floor and nothing but the scent of my own arousal filling my nose, I follow him out of the room and down to his garage. I lift my eyes enough to see an enormous five-car garage that’s filled with some of the sleekest, most beautiful cars I’ve ever seen. In the corner, two motorcycles are parked, and I can’t imagine how much damn money is sitting in here.

When I don’t move fast enough, he grabs my wrist and roughly yanks me over to an Aston Martin in a British racing green color, and it’s so gorgeous that I momentarily forget how pissed I am as my eyes run over the sleek lines of it.

“Wishing you’d tried to steal this, too?” he asks, and the amusement in his voice makes me want to slap him.

I open the car door and get in, ignoring his laughter as he walks to the driver’s side. The interior is just as gorgeous as the outside, and it’s only my pride, or what little I have left of it, that keeps me from outright petting the buttery soft, leather interior. When he starts the engine, it gives a soft purr just like I knew it would, and as soon as the garage door raises, he shifts into first and drives us out into the early morning sun.

Wanting to ignore the sight of him shifting because watching his beautiful hands as he handles this car is going to make my body betray me again, and I can’t have that. He didn’t wash me off his skin, and I wonder how long he’s planning on walking around with my juices on him. As much as he seems to hate me, I’m surprised he didn’t take the time to Clorox his damn skin.

We ride in silence, the car feeling small and cramped with his large body taking up so much space next to me. I watch the lake out my window as we drive over the bridge that will take us downtown. Jinx lives way out from the city, so I know this isn’t going to be the quick drive I wish it was.

I’m expecting a long, silent car ride, so I’m surprised when he asks, “What the hell do you do with everything you steal?”

When I keep my mouth shut and my face turned to the window, he continues.

“We searched your apartment, and there was nothing there. You live in a dump, your car is a piece of shit, and it’s not like you had a closet full of designer clothes and bags.”

God, the nerve of this jackass.

“Why the fuck do you care?” I finally say without turning my head.

“I don’t. Just idle curiosity. I felt sorry for you when I saw your apartment. I thought you must be the saddest little thief in the world, so bad at it that you couldn’t even make a living.”

I grit my teeth, refusing to let him get under my skin more than he already is. It’s none of his damn business what I do with my money, and I’m sure as fuck not going to appease this bastard’s curiosity.

When it’s obvious I’m not going to say anything, he sighs and says, “Suit yourself. I’ll figure it out one way or another.” He laughs and adds, “You’re a lot more accommodating when my fingers are in your pussy.”

I clench my hands into fists and bite my lip so hard I taste blood. Once I know for sure that Jinx is going to be okay, I’m so fucking out of here. I don’t care what it takes. I will find a way to escape from him.

The rest of the ride is done in silence, and when we’re about fifteen minutes away and the city has been replaced with woods and two-lane, windy, country roads, Mikhail answers his phone and says who knows what to the guy on the other end. I’m guessing he’s talking to one of the guys from the kitchen, probably the one with the scar. He seemed like the next in command. I’m not sure how Bratvas work, or any mafia for that matter, but he was the one who had joked around with Mikhail, and I got the feeling that he probably gets away with a lot more than any of the others do.

After he hangs up the phone, he digs mine out and hands it to me while pulling along the side of the deserted road we’re on. “Text him and tell him we’re coming and that you’re with us. Convince him to welcome us with open arms, Charlie.”

I roll my eyes but take the phone and type out a message. Before I can hit send, Mikhail grabs it from me to read what I wrote. I’m still not meeting his eyes, so I wait until he lets out a soft grunt of approval and hits the send button. A few seconds later, my phone dings with Jinx’s response.

Mikhail doesn’t bother to tell me what it is. He just calls someone on his phone and barks out some more orders in Russian.

“Tell me how to get there,” he says. “Where’s the road?”

I laugh because the word road is being extremely generous. I laugh even harder when I think about his precious Aston Martin trying to take the potholed dirt road that stretches for two miles before you can even catch sight of Jinx’s cabin.

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