Page 70 of Trapped By the Bratva

23

HANNAH

Dmitri surprised me. When I woke up to his dick sliding deep inside me, I struggled for a moment. At first, I couldn’t tell whether I was having a strangely semi-lucid dream or I was hallucinating. I’d been dreaming about him, stuck in the familiar fantasies about the infuriating man I wanted more than I felt I had any right to.

Waking up with the realization that he was fucking me while I slept—not seeking consent first—was a new experience. But it wasn’t bad. Even when I was unconscious, I was aroused under his touch. Although my mind was “off”, my body reacted to his.

Just like I feared it always would.

“Come with me,” he said after we caught our breath.

It wasn’t a question or an order. I wasn’t sure how to catalog his words, but I accepted the invitation to his room. It was bigger and roomier, with all the space we needed in the shower stall to clean up together.

He wasn’t through with me, though. As he told me to keep my hands on the tiles and spread my legs apart like a good girl, Ishivered with the anticipation of what he had in mind as he knelt down to the floor.

Like the expert he was, he ate me out with precision. With two orgasms close together, I felt weak and frazzled. My nerves were frayed. My mind was a jumbled mess of too many half-formed thoughts.

His gritty, satisfied chuckle proved that he knew it, too. Holding my hand, he led me out of the stall and dried me off before toweling himself. Then we fell into his bed together.

“You okay, Darling?” He always sounded teasing when he used that endearment, and I wondered if he used it to mock me.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Darling?” He smiled down at me as he gathered me closer in his arms. “Because you are one.”

“Yours?” It was so risky to ask that directly.

“Fuck, yeah, Hannah. You’re my Darling good girl.”

I smiled at his teasing words, but the expression didn’t fit right on my face for a change. I was too damn overwhelmed by so many emotions to let my typical happiness be front and center.

“You okay?” he asked, frowning once more. It was like he could detect that something was bothering me.

“Yeah. Just, um… tired. Sore.”

His slow smile was so sexy I swore he was going to make me rabid for him all over again. But it didn’t last. He sighed, as though he wasn’t convinced that all was well. “I should be glad that you’re a terrible liar.”

I pouted.

“Although it annoys the fuck out of me when you try to hide something, at least I can read you well enough to know when you are.”

I snuggled against him, breathing in his masculine scent and calming down with the steady thump of his heart beating beneath my cheek. “I’m getting a little overwhelmed by all these emotions. I’ve never been with a man before.”

He hugged me tighter, as though those words filled him with pride. “All mine.”

I smiled. I liked the sound of that, but I was still too guarded to just trust him and the way he could feel about me. “And it’s been a whirlwind of a month being here with you.”

He grunted, surprised. “It’s been that long?”

I nodded. “Mmm-hmm.” Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed, but I sure had. Women were more used to watching calendars for another reason—our cycles. And that was the bigger, scarier reason I felt out of sorts.

Mine was late. My periods were never late. I’d never bothered with birth control or anything because I was a virgin and hadn’t had the time or energy to change that status about myself. But I had now. Since meeting the former “mystery man” I couldn’t stop thinking about, I’d lost my virginityandfailed to think about protection. Dmitri was older. He should’ve known better with his many more years of experience and knowledge in this department. I was an amateur and he was the master. I wasn’t dismissing it or passing the responsibility to him by default, but I was surprised he hadn’t thought of a condom or asked about whether I was on the pill.

“Hannah? Talk to me.” He rubbed my upper arm. “I know I’m not the easier man to deal with. After my torture, I’ve been a changed person, but I’m trying to be more like the guy I used to be.”

I considered that. “I don’t remember much of that guy. I only saw you for a couple of hours that night when Emily was kidnapped.”

“Almostkidnapped,” he corrected. “I stopped that Rossini fucker before he could get far and called Ivan to handle him.”

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