Page 59 of Trapped By the Bratva

“Lonely?” I taunted as she lay there and struggled to move. She didn’t protest when I turned her around, guiding her to straddle me again. As soon as she sank down on my dick, her eyes still glazed over with her climax drugging her and her kiss-swollen lips parted with a groan of pleasure, I pulled her flush to my chest and rolled until she was under me.

Letting her ride me would have been fine, but she was wasted on sex, overwhelmed with the fluttering waves of her first orgasm. I wanted to pound into her without mercy, to force this comprehension into her brain.

“You won’t be lonely when I’m here to keep you filled.” I slammed into her, mesmerized by the sways of her sweet breasts. “You’re gonna be my good girl, aren’t you?” I growled as she tightened around me, clenching me as another orgasm seemed to build in her already.

When it hit her, she cried out with actual tears. They leaked from her eyes squeezed tight, then rolled over her cheeks. “Dmitri!” She reached up for my face, pulling me down so she could kiss me deeply.

Twice more, I pummeled her, and I came with such intensity that I thought I would see black spots in my peripheral vision.My heart raced as my dick jerked deep inside her, milked dry with her pussy hugging me so tightly.

I wheezed out a deep breath and held her as I fell to the bed.

“Wait,” she warned breathily. “Don’t hurt…” She nudged for me to slide over without letting go. “Don’t hurt your shoulder.”

Even with her mind scattered from two orgasms, she was compassionate to look out for me and consider my injuries.

Shifting to our sides, we stayed together as my cum flooded her.

Spent and sated, I held her close as we tried to calm from the high.

But as soon as we could think or talk, I’d be getting some answers out of her once and for all. Fuck this nonsense about her being lonely. I wanted to know why she’d ever think that to say it, and I’d be damned if she felt that way while she was here with me.

I couldn’t promise her much. I had to focus on my plans for revenge. In the meantime, though, I wouldn’t let her get away with assuming she didn’t matter—not where I was concerned. That was the issue. She already mattered too much.

19

HANNAH

After we caught our breath, Dmitri nudged me to get up.

“Huh?” I was sleepy, so sated and lazy, that moving at all sounded impossible. He was so warm. Even though he was solid and hard, all muscles and no fat, lying against him was the most comfortable place in the world. I felt safe and secure with him, and I dreaded having to give up this moment.

A moment we likely shouldn’t have had. All common sense flew out the window with this man, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. He was due to switch back to the cold treatment now and ice me out.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he maneuvered me to sit up with him. Once he was on his feet, he stumbled a bit, and I hurried to stand and help him.

“This fucking ankle,” he groused as he leaned on me.

“Maybe that’s what you get for carrying me,” I scolded as he guided me to walk with him toward the bathroom.

Side by side like this, naked, was new. I’d assisted Dmitri with walking and moving with and without his cane or walker often, but never without a stitch of clothing between us.

He looked at me, shooting me a dark look, as though he hated that he wasn’t free to simply do as he pleased and count on his body to be strong enough.

In the bathroom, he tugged me alongside him as he turned the shower on. As steam filled the room, he brought me inside the huge stall with him.

Staying close together, we cleaned up and relaxed under the kneading pressure of the hot water raining out of two showerheads. With slippery hands, we kept each other company. I helped him stand and washed his back, and he took his time roving his hands all over me, everywhere. It felt like he was trying to memorize me, to etch the map of my body in his mind.

No words were needed. In the hazy steam of the stall and the comforting warmth surrounding us, we continued this simple companionship after such mind-blowing sex.

The last time, I ran out of his room. I avoided facing him and dealing with the aftermath, too guilty to have given in.

This time, running away from him was the last thing on my mind. We showered and dried off together, and he didn’t give me any easy opening to ask what would come next. He showed me. Guiding me back to the bed where we’d messed up the sheets and blankets, he pointed at the mattress and indicated that I was supposed to climb on.

He grabbed a water bottle and lay next to me, and as he sipped it, he lifted his arm for me to snuggle up against his side. How he could justknowthat I craved his contact, I had no clue. ButI did. Pressing up against him, flush like this, was becoming my favorite place to be.

“Hannah?” he said after several quiet moments.

I looked up at him as he set the water bottle down on the nightstand to his side of the bed.

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