Page 47 of Secret Baby for the Bratva Boss

I laugh. It’s a hard and humorless sound. I expect her to release me, stung, and back away. Instead, her grip tightens on my shirt, and she looks at me all the harder. “Surely, you’re joking.”

A firm shake of her head. “He came into my house. He came for me himself. I want him to see that I will do the same.”

I consider outright telling her that she’s gone mad. But I can practically taste her stubbornness in the air. She wants a fight, now, but I’ll never give her that one. Over my dead body will sheface or kill Konstantin herself. I’d take every bullet, every blow he had in him before it came to that. Perhaps I will. If this girl wants a fight, if she wants a place to pit and vent her anger and vengeance and frustration—I will give her one.

I place my hand squarely on the center of her chest and push her back. Her eyes widen, startled, but she falls into line, letting me guide her, none too gently, until her back hits the wall. She flushes more deeply, all the way to the tips of her ears.God, I like that.It looks like I flip a switch for her as much as she does for me.

“Aleks,” she begins, but I press a finger to her lips. Her hands catch my wrist, as though to keep me at bay, but she makes no move to strain against me. Instead, she waits, watching me with big, daunted eyes and parted lips. And she doesn’t speak.

“You have so much fire in you,” I tell her softly, pushing my finger over her bottom lip, and into her mouth. She makes a startled little mewl that heats me from within. “It’s what I’ve always liked about you.”

She can tell that I’m patronizing her, but when she moves to argue, I slide another finger into her mouth. That willful stubbornness stays in her eyes, but she holds my hand there—and a breath later, her tongue brushes up against my fingers, stroking them in a way that would make a weaker man go to water at the knees.Yes,I think, sliding my other hand over her side to her hip, to the warm, waiting place between her legs.I will give you just the kind of fight you like, Katerina.

Chapter Nineteen

Kat

Who the hell does he think he is?

What the hell do Icare? It’s so hard to think when he’s like this. When he decides that he can shut me up whenever he pleases. I hate him. I hate him so much I can barely stand it; the way he looks at me in that inscrutable way, looking down on every little thing I say or do. I can barely think or breathe when he’s around. Because it’s like he looks at me, and the clothes fall away, and the skin and the muscles and bones, too, until there is nothing left but the barest parts of me, dark and naked, stripped away so he alone can read every bit of dirt and darkness that remains. It makes me sick to even think about all the completely vulnerable parts I’ve shown this man, and he continues to patronize me. And he knows how to do it, too. Bastard.

His hand has slipped between my legs, sauntering fingers that make their way up my thighs, to the heat of my core. His dark, smoldering eyes don’t burn through me. They burnme, slowly, in bitter little tongues that lick against my skin, taking in everything. Consuming me, inch by inch, until I’m nothing but a puddle on the floor in front of him. He’s not smiling, but those fucking eyes are, and Ihatehim, more than I thought I could hate someone. I hate him because he sees me. He can see the me that I am always trying to hide. The girl—the woman—I’m so ashamed of. It’s a stirring side of me, one that nobody gets to see, but he has gone and wrenched those deep feelings and desires from the depths of my soul, things that I’d tucked away in the shadows of history, and he’s using it against me.

He knows what I want. He knows everything that I don’t want him to in this moment, and he uses my own weaknesses against me, as if I’m the enemy. He knows I want him. And this fragileflaw that he’s discovered has been at the top of his list of things to throw in my face at any given chance.

When he drops his hand and brings his lips to mine, smashing them together, it’s not gentle. It’s not tender, like it was, that once, when things felt so real and intimate and kind. It’s rough, a hard lesson that he’s trying to teach me, to not mess with matters I can’t handle. It’s with an angered urgency that he forces his mouth onto mine. His hands find the button and zipper on my brown jeans, and he yanks the material low, startling me and causing an embarrassing heat to pool in my stomach.

With a shaking hand, I catch his, my heart hammering against my ribs like a beat of a drum, getting faster, more flitty and unregulated by the second.What the hell is he thinking?He’s out of control. “Aleks,” I hiss, “the door is open, they’ll hear—”

He follows the same path of my pants, as he falls to his knees and his dark eyes flick up to meet mine. They’re blistering with a savage, untamed flame that makes my core quiver. “Let them hear.”

Heat blisters through me, making its way through my body, dancing across my already sensitive skin. I try to comprehend the terribly dirty thing he just commanded of me, but before I can even attempt to think straight, his head is ramming between my thighs, despite my best efforts to squeeze them together. I groan, falling back against the wall, weak, as he delves his tongue into me, lapping at my wetness, his lips wrapping around my clit and creating the familiar heady, overwhelming feeling deep behind my navel. His tongue presses against my already soaking wet core, then begins to stroke, and I feel myself flood with heat and tingles and anxiety, my face flushing a crimson color.Let them hear? Is he insane?But the thought disintegrates from my mind just as his mouth opens and closesagainst me again, as his tongue twirls and flicks at my most sensitive places, driving me completely mad in the process.

I feel myself shudder against his face, his unrelenting mouth, and frantically throw my leg over his broad shoulders, sliding my needy hands into his hair and gripping fast, relishing in the pleasure, even though I know it’s so wrong to be doing this now. He grunts against me as I pull his hair in the rough way I know he likes, and I feel the vibration of his voice in my skin, in my folds and ridges and pores, in every bone like a ripple in a pond. I sigh, feeling out of breath as I rush my hips against his face, riding his tongue as hard and fast as I can manage, smothering him with my wetness. My flesh is burning, and sweat is beginning to prick up the back of my neck, beading between my shoulder blades and creating a dewy layer of moist film across my skin. I can feel the pressure building inside me, my core clenching and fighting for the ability to reach a peak, any semblance of climax. But he doesn’t just let me have it. Of course, he wouldn’t let me have the sweet release of orgasm without playing with me first. It’s like he’s intent on driving me absolutely crazy. He wants me begging, bucking my hips and boosting his ego, and he knows that if he teases long enough, I will. He brings me close to climax, right up to the edge of that blissful explosion, right to point where I’m not able to control the high and squeaky moans that spill from my lips, and then he stops, and stands in front of me, my fingers untangling from his hair. The ache that has built up in my core is clawing to break, and I feel my insides clench with that painful longing for release. He drags his eyes over me, and I feel that seething hate bubble up inside me again, looking at his smug face as he toys with me and enjoys his sick, seductive game.

He pulls my hands down quickly, and I gasp, startled by the heat of his cock through his pants, the hardness that can be felt even through the fabric. And then instinct takes over, dirty andlurid, and I undo his fly and pull him free from the prison that was holding us back, our eyes locking as I do so. I blush fiercely as I look at him, my eyes dancing with blatant wanton. Again, his are smiling, rakish.Maybe he’s the bad guy,I think. But it’s far too late to make considerations like that now. I am too far gone in this moment. We both are. We may as well finish whatever we started here. I shouldn’t like this—him being a domineering asshole—but I do. Or, at least, my body does.

He kisses me roughly, tangling his hand into my hair, pulling and jerking my head back to get a better angle for his attack of a kiss. I take in a sharp breath, shocked by his force, and he seizes on the moment to push his hot, furious tongue deep into my mouth, fighting mine for dominance and winning. A moan pours out of me, straight into his mouth, and then he’s lifting me up, pinning me hard against the wall. It’s cold, hard surface is such a juxtaposition to our bodies, which are melting together in a heated blaze, unable to control ourselves. He slides himself between my legs, and lines the head of his throbbing cock up to my entrance, teasing me for a short moment, before it becomes too much for either of us to bear, and driving himself inside of me.

We moan together, in tandem, all thought of the open door forgotten. I pant wildly as he pounds into me, craving more of his untamed nature, wanting to meet him there.He’s right. Fuck it. Let them hear, it’s no mystery anyway.I surrender to him, to the hold he has on my sanity, wrapping my legs around his waist, letting him hold me aloft as he thrusts deeply into me, rough and hard and fast, at a pace that has me crying out, unthinking.Yes,I say, or imagine saying aloud to him if I was able to form coherent words, rocking my hips into him, overcome with blissful sensations. I hold him around the shoulders, close, every inch of me pressed against every inchof him as my fingertips dig into his shoulder blades, no doubt causing marks.Yes, there there there—

He groans loudly as his bucking hips become more frantic and arrhythmic, and as I make my way to climax, I see white light practically blinding my vision, my head thrown back and every muscle wrenched as tight as it can go: and then, just as quickly as it wound up, the release comes flowing through me, all of that built up tension flooding out of me, pouring like sweet hot honey all around his member that is still thrusting into me. His face is buried in my neck as he pulls on my hair with the fist that has buried itself against my scalp. My body falls against him, exhausted and used, as my pulse comes back into my ears and skin in a roar like rushing tide, crashing without cease against the beach of my consciousness. I can barely breathe, trying to take a deep inhale of fresh, cool air. But the atmosphere surrounding us is hot, stagnant. The entire moment lasted only minutes.

His breath is rough and heavy as he lifts me off his cock, which is still hard, and sets me back down to the ground, my back dragging down the wall that I was pinned against a moment earlier. He leans against the wall, bracing himself with one hand over my shoulder. He touches his forehead to mine, the heat and sweat from the two of us mingling, forbidden chemistry bringing us together on a physical, and emotional, level.

I’m so rocked that I am having some trouble attempting to stand, and I’m still barely able to catch my breath. I hold onto his waist and lean into his torso, letting my eyes flutter shut as the last several spasms of climax roll through my body. That was beyond what I could possibly imagine. And yet, it was intensely hot. I can’t even fathom what just happened to me, my mind still foggy from orgasm.

“A few hours,” he says, finally, his tone quiet but domineering, nonetheless. “I’ll make arrangements.” Then, he straightens his posture, adjusting himself and zipping up his pants, turning away from me. Calloused, as always.

I shake myself out of the intoxicating feeling that took all my bodily functions over moments ago, feeling like I’m waking from a dream that I don’t want to leave. “Arrangements?” I ask, furrowing my brows, my voice coming out meeker than anticipated. “What do you mean?”

“If you won’t be sent away, then arrangements will have to be made,” he says, looking at me coolly over his shoulder. This man is such an enigma, the way he can always find a way to keep me at a distance. It bothers me. “We find Konstantin tonight. If you won’t be kept somewhere safe, I have no choice but to bring you with me.”

I stare at him, feeling with almost pure certainty that he is lying to me. There must be some kind of catch. He wouldn’t just let me go with him that easy, would he? To put me in the line of danger, especially the wrath of Konstantin, seems impossible for him to let up on. But his gaze is clear, and calm, and angry. It’s an intense look that he gives me, and I gulp. If there is anything in Aleks I can trust, it is his fury. “OK,” I say, giving a small nod and standing up straighter than before, feigning the bravery that I think he wants to see. I can hear how hollow my own voice is—does he? “OK, that sounds good.”

“Good.” He touches my face, one palm against my cheek. I’m not sure what emotion he tries to convey in this moment. I can’t read him. “Be ready.”

It’s not until he walks out, and the sugar of that heated fuck begins to stale, that I decide that I’m sure of what’s been swirling around my mind:

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