Page 43 of Bratva Queen

“Hello, Sasha, you’re looking well.”

“And you’re looking hungry,” he said, tipping his head to the side with a compact smile. “I’ll have a few ladies walk through here. I know you… you don’t like the thirsty ones.” I gave him a slow smile. I’d forgotten the service in this place was impeccable. “So they won’t know to look for you. You just give the right girl a nod, alright?”

“Thank you, Sash. I’ll see if my interests are piqued.” I winked at him too and he laughed heartily, grabbing both my shoulders with a squeeze before heading out the door again. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted a woman in my lap. Maybe watching this classier type on the pole would be enough to satisfy my need for distraction.

I took a seat in a booth and placed my ankle on my knee, sipping my second drink slowly. I watched as a few dancers and even waitresses came in and out, merely glancing around as they walked through the room and out the private door behind the bar or stopped to fill their trays with drinks.

I felt bored. Perhaps that wasn’t the right word. I felt tense and uninterested. My mind kept taking me back to that wedding dress, to Isabel walking down the house corridor in her silky shorts and camisole pajamas—that I shouldn’t have seen, I was merely looking for Stepan at the time—and to her smooth milky legs over my thighs as I licked her pussy until she cried out my name.

Fuck. I wished I could get her out of my system. I wished I was stupid enough to pull her into an unused guest room at the house and just do it, pin her down, make her gasp for air as I invaded her body with my dick that always seemed to be rock hard for her and no one else.

But I wasn’t a foolish man. So I was here. Looking for an outlet to ease that unsatisfied tension. As these thoughts flew into my mind and I tried to chase them out, a woman walked into the room.

Oh, God, finally.

She had long black hair and thick lashes over her dark brown eyes. Her skin was white, pure, and from here looked entirely smooth to the touch. She wore high-waisted black panties over her curved hips and a black lace bra—without the padding—just the way I liked it. Natural, comfortable, intimate. She fucking dripped with the resemblance of Isabel.

I lifted my chin and caught her eye, then jerked my head to the side, signaling for her to approach. As she did so, she didn’t smile or flick her hair. She sat down next to me and hung one leg over the other, angling her body toward me.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Hello,” was all I said, looking into her eyes more so than her body. I was analyzing her, comparing her to the woman who had a tight grasp around my heart. The likeness was just enough; she would do.

“Not up for conversation, huh?” she said, lifting her chin. “Well, Sash told me that there’s averyimportant man in here, sitting alone, looking for a little company. Is that you?”

I looked around at each of the two groups of men, seeing no other man sitting alone in the room, then looked at her and shrugged.

“Looks like it.”

“Okay,” she nodded, looking away.

Fuck me.Her cavalier attitude was so much like Isabel’s.

“So what’ll it be? I’m getting that you’re not looking for that type of service,” she gestured discreetly toward the women who sat beside the men and talked flirtatiously, with their hands on the men’s thighs or arms. “So just a dance then?”

I nodded once, taking my leg off the other and pushing them wide open. She smiled and stood up.

She started with slow hip movements, running her hands up her sides and letting her tits fall with a bounce as she touched her neck. She pulled her hair up into her hands and turned around, showing me her back and her rounded ass.

I saw Isabel. Actively and decidedly, I pictured her between my legs, just like that one time she danced for me so many months ago. She rolled her hips as she turned back around, letting her hair fall over her chest. She straddled me, her knees wide, her hands lightly touching my shoulders. As she let her ass bounce low between my knees, she leaned forward and brushed her cheek against the stubble of my jaw, allowing me access to her neck. I brushed her hair back over her shoulder, opening up her neck and finding myself running my nose up her white skin.

I didn’t smell Isabel, but the intimacy of the action was exactly what I looked for with Isabel. So it worked, and I felt myself harden.

The dancer lifted up and pushed forward, allowing me a little nuzzle between her plump, natural tits. I breathed in and bit my lip, feeling that overflow of erotic need rush through my body. When she moved slowly back down, she ground herself against my hard-on. I sighed and dropped my head back.

Her mouth approached my ear and she whispered, “You can touch me, you know.”

What a fucking flashback.

I slowly shook my head as she backed up to grind down against me again, her hands around my neck. Her eyes were on mine, studying me.

“You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

Her words weren’t accusing or angered, just curious. I clenched my jaw and looked down, before lifting only my eyes and nodding.

“Someone you can’t have?”

A slight, sarcastic smile grew on my lips. “You’re good at your job.”

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