Page 140 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“I distinctly remember some longing talk of donuts and pastries and chocolate.”

“No, this is plenty. I’m fine.”

I whip around so fast that Belle runs into me. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her tightly against my chest. She gasps and looks up at me. Her lashes are long and curled, and they bat against her cheeks with every blink.

“I own the damn hotel, Belle,” I remind her. “You can have anything you want.”

She pulls her lower lip into her mouth. “Anything I want?”

I nod. “Anything.”

She thinks about it for a long time, her eyes memorizing my face. I wonder if she’s thinking what I am. About how good she’d taste, how good she’d feel on my cock right now.

But finally, she smiles. “I want pastries.”

I step back and wave her forward. “Then go get it.”

As she passes, I swat her ass, unable to resist. And aside from a playful warning look over her shoulder, Belle doesn’t seem to mind.

I’m not used to this shit. I’m used to porn star moans and plastic-enhanced women trying desperately to give me what they think I want.

But this? Belle’s warm smile, her genuine trust? It feels… strangely good. I get the sense no one has taken care of her in a long time.

I like being the person who gets to.

* * *

Back in the suite, Belle moans as she bites into a cream-filled donut. “This is so good it should be illegal.”

She has a bit of cream on her bottom lip. I reach out and swipe it off with my finger before sucking it into my own mouth. Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush, but she quickly takes another bite and lets out another moan.

“If you don’t quit making those sounds, I’m going to be jealous of a pastry.”

She laughs. “You should be. I’ve never,everbeen so happy. So satisfied. This donut is filling me in ways that I’ve never—”

“Easy,” I interrupt. “I’ve never turned down a challenge. I’m not sure you’re ready for me to take you up on this one.”

Belle lets out a long yawn before her smile returns. “You might be right about that. I’m exhausted.”

“That’s because I, a real man and not a pastry, fucked you stupid in a hot spring,” I remind her.

Her face flushes again, and she hides it behind another bite. Once she swallows, she leans back on the couch with a contented sigh. “Thanks for the desserts. I don’t usually have such a crazy sweet tooth.”

“I find that hard to believe. You just ate an ice cream sundae and three donuts.”

She narrows her eyes. “I thought we didn’t need to keep track, Mr. Owner? I had no idea you were taking inventory.”

“When someone is inhaling confections, it’s hard not to stop and take notice.”

Belle lunges across the sofa to slap me in the arm. “I’ll have you know that, most years for my birthday growing up, I didn’t even want a cake. I usually asked for fried chicken or alfredo and breadsticks.”

“How fancy,” I say. “I thought white bread with butter and sugar was the normal birthday treat until the kids at school informed me I was dirt-poor.”

Belle’s face falls. She reaches for me. “I’m sorry.”

“No apology necessary.”

“I’m glad you told me,” she adds softly. “I like learning more about you.”

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