Page 4 of A Nanny For The Bratva Boss
The next day, she’s watching me again. I feel her eyes on me before I even round the corner. Same spot. Same time. Three weeks of this shit, and she still thinks I don’t notice.
Maya Ross. Twenty-three. Broke. Staying in Dmitry’s pool house while he and Ana are off playing honeymooners in Europe.
And she’s been eye-fucking me every morning since she moved in.
I keep my pace steady, my breathing controlled, even though my dick’s already half-hard just knowing she’s out there. In those little shorts that show off her juicy ass and thick thighs. And a tank top that does fuck-all to cover her big, round tits.
“Hello!”
Her voice hits me like a fucking freight train. It’s too bright, too fucking sweet.
I don’t stop. Don’t look. Just keep running.
Because if I stop, if I look at her, I’m going to do something stupid. Like throw her over my shoulder and carry her inside myhouse. Show her exactly what happens to good girls who tease men like me.
“Nice day for a run!”
Fuck.
I’m rock-hard now. Have to adjust myself as I turn the corner, out of her sight.
Three weeks of this torture. Three weeks of watching her pretend she’s not watching me. Three weeks of knowing she touches herself at night thinking about me. Because I’ve heard her. Seen the lights go off in that pool house, heard her soft gasps through the cracked window when she thinks no one’s listening.
I know everything about her.
How she takes her coffee. Black, with two sugars.
What time she wakes up. At six-fifteen, like clockwork.
That she’s been applying for jobs online every afternoon, getting rejection after rejection.
That she’s too proud to ask for help but desperate enough to accept Ana’s charity.
And I know she wants me. Has wanted me since day fucking one.
But she’s Dmitry’s guest. Under his protection. In his house.
Off. Fucking. Limits.
I cut my run short. Two miles instead of five. Because I can’t keep going with this hard-on trying to break through my shorts.
I need to get home. Now.
I let myself into my house, strip out of my running gear, and head straight for the shower. But I don’t make it that far.
My hand’s wrapped around my big dick before I even get the water running.
Fuck.
I brace one palm against the marble tile wall, the other stroking hard and fast.
I think about her mouth. How her full lips would feel wrapped around my cock.
Her perfect ass in those shorts, bent over my kitchen counter.
Her thick thighs spread wide while I bury my face between them.
The sounds she’d make. The way she’d gasp my name.
