Page 25 of The Bratva’s Monster

When he stops, the dress hangs loose on my shoulders, then slips off my body and to the floor, leaving me naked except for my thong and heels. His hands move over my hips as his lips press against my neck and my shoulders, kissing, licking… then biting hard.

I flinch and go to pull away, but he holds me firmly by my hips. He pulls me close, and I can feel how hard he is through his pants… and how big.

My mind can’t comprehend it as the unmistakable feeling of his dick against my ass cheek and part of my thigh processes through my mind. Jesus, what have I gotten myself into?

“Don’t you dare run from me,” he growls into my ear.

My breath is coming out in short bursts, ragged and fearful. One hand moves over my tummy and down between my legs, rubbing my pussy through the silk fabric of my panties. He finds my clit easily, his fingers pressing against it and rubbing it up and down with even pressure. It’s intense, almost too much, and I squirm a little. His free hand tightens on my hip.

“I said don’t run,” he growls in my ear. “You understand me?”

I nod and his fingers dig into my skin.

“I need to hear you say it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I say breathlessly.

His hand moves up and over, sliding into my panties. His fingers slide over my lips, then find my clit again, rubbing it in circles. I lean against him, grabbing his arm to keep myself steady. The barrier of my underwear gone, I’m biting my lip to keep myself from moaning too loud, but little whimpers keep escaping.

He’s cupping my breast with his free hand, twisting my nipple. The sweet sting of pain mixed with the vibration of pleasure coming from my pussy makes my eyes roll up. Involuntarily, I moan, and it almost sounds foreign. I close my mouth, sucking in air through my teeth.

I can feel the telltale signs of my arousal starting to soak my panties. God, if he doesn’t slow down, I’m going to come right here on his fingers.

He gives my breast a final squeeze, then he lets me go. My knees give out and I stumble forward to the bed, but I catch myself. I turn myself around and sit, trying to catch my breath.

He’s taking off his tie, his eyes green and alit in the hazy glow of the room. There’s no smile, no playfulness, nothing on his face telling me that he’s going to be anything close to gentle with me.

A crazy idea takes me as he takes off his shirt, displaying his massive arms and chest and all his tattoos and scars—of which there are many. I scoot up onto the bed and he stops undressing, my open defiance triggering him. He steps forward and grabs me by the ankle and yanks me back. I kick my leg out of his hands and go to scramble away, up to the headboard.

“I see I’m going to have to tie you down,” he says as he undoes his belt. “Told you not to run from me.”

I’m so fucking hot I can’t stand it. I want him to catch me. Pin me down. Fuck the shit out of me. He moves quickly around the bed, and before I can fully get away, he’s grabbed me around the waist, ass up as I flail, face-first into the comforter.

I hear the ring of the belt buckle, then a decisive snap. Oh… shit.

“W–Wait⁠—”

The strap comes down over my ass, the cutting sting of it slicing across both cheeks. I gasp as tears burn my eyes. He slaps me with the belt again and again, and my toes are curling as the pain blinds me.

I should tell him to stop, tell him that I don’t want this. Gedeon never did this to me. In fact, no one ever has. With every slap of the belt, my thighs get wetter from my aching pussy. I’m beginning to think that this is what I’ve always wanted, what I never got and now have to have.

He stops with the belt and I hear it fall to the floor. His hand rubs my sore ass, then the warm feeling of his tongue as he licks the line of the welts. It stings so good that I’m grabbing the comforter to keep myself steady.

“I’ll teach you to mind me,” he growls. “Keep this up and I’ll stripe you from your back to your thighs.” He rubs my ass, then slides his fingers between my legs and into my pussy. I’m hanging on his arm, half on and half off the bed, and he’s fucking me with his thick fingers.

I bite down hard on my lip, keeping my moans at bay. Shaky little grunts escape instead.

“No, no. I want to hear you screaming. That little grunting shit isn’t going to work.”

He lets me go and I flop face-first onto the bed. He turns me around and drops his pants, kicking them across the room. He picks his belt back up.

His dick is a thing to behold. It hangs nearly halfway down his thigh and has the girth of a wine bottle. I sit up on my elbows as he approaches. “Sit all the way up.”

I do. He leans in and ties my wrists together with his belt. “You like to make things hard, don’t you?” he says in Russian. “You like it when I have to work for it?”

Without any thought to it, I spit in his face. He pauses with a moment’s shock, then slaps me hard. I glare at him as one side of my face stings. “You’ll pay for that,” he growls.

He pulls me back up by my hair and says, “Open your mouth.”