Page 14 of Forced Bratva Hostage (Dubrov Bratva #15)

My heart is racing a million miles an hour.

My skin is tingling, and my body feels like it’s about to burst into flames.

He tastes amazing. His mouth is hot against mine, and his hands on my body are like a drug.

I don’t even care that we’re on the dance floor, right where everyone can see us. It’s thrilling to kiss him.

His lips move over mine, and it’s the most intense feeling I’ve ever experienced in my life.

My mind is screaming, my heart is exploding.

Andrei’s hands drift down my back, and he cups them over my ass. With ease, he lifts me into his arms and carries me off the dance floor, my legs hanging down and my hands resting on his shoulders. I giggle nervously. His smile is dark and deliciously gorgeous.

Away from the dance floor, in a corner of the club, he stops.

My back is pushed up against a wall as his lips press into mine again. I can barely breathe.

What is going on with me? I’ve never behaved like this in public. And I certainly shouldn’t be doing this with him—I came here to escape, not make out with the guy who kidnapped me.

When this kiss ends, Andrei lowers me to the ground and takes my hand. He pulls me, gesturing with a tilt of his head that I should follow him. His eyes are touched with mischief, and my heart beats faster thinking about what he wants to do.

I glance around nervously, worried that we’re causing a scene in public, but no one is watching, no one cares. And I desperately want more of him. Why is it that I’m so ready to give him everything?

The music is softer in the dark hallway away from everyone else.

It’s still thrumming in the air, but further away, muffled by the walls. One red light shines at the end of the hallway, adding to the allure of it all, the seduction.

Andrei leans over me, pressing his hand into the wall above my head. Is he waiting for me to tell him not to do this? Because I can’t. I can’t tell him to stop, because I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life. I want to feel him inside me.

I want to give myself to him in every way possible.

Reaching up, I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down to kiss me again.

A low moan of satisfaction moves through him as he pushes his tongue into my mouth.

His hands travel over my body, and my breathing gets faster.

It terrifies me to know that I wouldn’t stop him, no matter how far he wants to go with me.

The way I feel now it’s ten times more intense than I felt in the pool with him. I’m dying with need. The desire is thick, like lava spilling through my blood.

The night in the pool was a touch of temptation, whereas this is the entire fantasy, standing in front of me, ready to devour me.

When he slides his hand over my inner thigh, I lift my leg and wrap it around his waist, encouraging him to touch me. I stare into his eyes, biting my lip.

His long fingers brush over my skin, between my legs; he touches the soft lace of my panties and I shudder with delight, teased by his fingertips as they gently trace over me.

My pussy is hot and throbbing, soaked and ready for him.

Andrei takes a handful of my hair and pulls my head back sharply, kissing me harder than before. At the same time, he slips his fingers beneath my panties and pushes them inside my pussy.

Relief floods me, and I cry out against his lips. My body shivers with delight as he moves his fingers inside me. My hips rock forward, pushing into his touch, begging for more.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice warns me that anyone could walk past, anyone could find us—and I shove it aside. I don’t care. I want him so badly.

He pushes his finger deep into me, and his thumb presses against my clit, moving in slow circles.

I gasp and feel his lips curl into a smile against mine.

“Do you like that, little bunny?” he growls, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I nod weakly, not trusting myself to speak.

“Mm. You’re so wet for me,” he whispers.

He moves his thumb faster, and my pussy tightens over his finger.

Currents of pleasure shoot through me, over and over again, building in intensity.

My head is swimming, spinning wildly as I try to hold on to him and try to remember to breathe.

Andrei expertly flicks his thumb faster and faster. His breath is hot against my skin, his cock hard as it presses against his pants. I want to reach out and touch him, but I can barely move.

My body is weak in his hands.

I can’t hold back anymore. With a squeal, I let go.

I gasp and shudder, my legs turning to jelly as the orgasm crashes into me like a wave.

Andrei holds me tightly, so I don’t collapse. He keeps his arm wrapped around my waist while his fingers move over me until my body is spent, and finally, I can breathe again.

When it’s over, he kisses me, then steps back, his eyes hungry as he watches me straighten my dress.

His cock is massive, pressing against the fabric; I can see the outline of a monstrous shaft.

It makes my heart flutter with nervous excitement.

I bite my lip and try to look anywhere but at his cock.

My cheeks are burning.

I can’t believe any of that just happened.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room quickly, to freshen up,” I say, hardly able to look at him. My heart is still racing, and even though he gave me an orgasm, I still want more. I want to feel him. I want to tug his pants open and spread my legs so that he can thrust into me.

Clearing my throat, I tuck my hair behind my ear.

“I won’t be long,” I murmur.

All I really need is a moment to clear my head.

Andrei nods and steps aside so that I can walk past him.

I hurry down the hallway, turning back to see if he’s watching me, and when I see he isn’t, I duck left instead of right, which would have led me to the bathrooms.

The left door leads to an alley behind the club.

I push it open and step outside into the cool night air, taking a deep breath and running my fingers through my hair to brush it back away from my face. Goosebumps break out over my arms as the chill touches me. It’s refreshing, and it helps me think more clearly.

“Tia, you need to get a grip. You’re supposed to be trying to escape tonight,” I scold myself.

Take three deep breaths.

Clear your mind.

And figure this out.

I’m free. I could literally run to the end of this alley and I’d be on the main street. It would take me less than a minute to wave someone down to help me. I would be rescued.

They could take me home.

I wouldn’t be Andrei’s prisoner anymore.

My mind plays out the scenario—I picture myself walking into my old bedroom at the estate, my things on the dresser where I left them, the familiar smells of home. Home.

For some reason, none of it feels right; it doesn’t bring me relief or happiness.

My heart clenches tightly in my chest, and I press my hand over it.

I would still be a prisoner. My brother’s prisoner.

I would be walking right back into that life I was so desperate to get away from.

I glance back towards the door that leads to the club.

Andrei is inside, waiting for me. I could go home with him—be his wife, and whatever else that life has in store for me. But I might die in whatever plan he has for the future.

I turn towards the end of the alleyway. My way out.

Towards freedom that isn’t really freedom at all.

My mind is playing tricks on me. Making me second-guess myself. I’m questioning what I want and where I should go. This shouldn’t even be something I need to consider. I should go home.

There’s that word again. Home.

I sigh in frustration and rub my hands over my face. When I look down the alley again, in the dim street light, a figure appears at the end near the street. At first, I tense, ready to run from the ominous shadow, but in a flash of surprise, I realize it’s Van.

His bulky form, his rugged face, and his stern expression are all familiar to me.

He’s walking towards me, but I don’t know if he knows it’s me or not. I think it’s darker on this side of the alley.

I lift my hand and shout his name.

“Van, it’s me.”

He doesn’t reply.

“It’s Tia,” I say nervously.

My heart turns cold, frozen like ice in my chest.

He lifts his arm, his gun tight in his grip.

And he aims it right at me.

“Van,” I shout, but he doesn’t even flinch.

I hear the gunshot snap loudly through the alley, echoing off the walls.

My body is flying through the air, and I brace myself for impact, expecting to hit the pavement, and expecting the pain to arrive when my mind registers that I’ve been shot…

But instead, I land on someone and realize that there are arms around me, holding me tightly.

“Tatiana, get up,” Andrei is shouting at me as he stands up, pulling me with him.

My ears are ringing, and I can hardly hear what he’s saying.

His hands brush over my body, but there is no blood; he pulled me out of the way in time.

Van screams in anger, and another shot fires just as Andrei pulls me back into the club.

He doesn’t let go of my hand, and we are running, pushing through the crowd, loud music confusing me, until we burst out of the doors in front, right by his car.

He tugs the door open and shoves me inside.

“Move. Now ,” he shouts.

The door slams, and the engine growls to life.

Wheels skid on tar, and I’m pushed back into my seat by the force when he accelerates.

My thoughts are frozen, and I’m staring blankly ahead of me as the streetlights flash past us. I don’t understand what just happened.

Why would Van be shooting at me?

Why wouldn’t he be trying to rescue me?

Why in the world would he try and kill me?

A cold sweat breaks out over my skin when I realize how close I just came to dying.

By the time we reach the cabin in the woods, the shock has softened, and I’m left with a hollow feeling of fear and confusion.

“Tia?” he says my name gently.

I turn towards him, only now realizing that we didn’t speak for the entire drive here. He reaches his hand out to guide me out of the car. “We’ll be safe here for tonight,” he says, leading me towards the cabin.

While he moves around, turning soft lighting on and throwing wood into the fireplace, I stand like a dumbstruck idiot, doing nothing. I can’t get my body to work. There is a heavy weight holding me in place.

When the fire is casting an orange, glowing light through the living room area, he leads me to the sofa and sits me down.

“Are you okay?” he asks, brushing his hand over my cheek.

I nod, but my brows knot together. “That was Van.”

“I know,” he says.

“Why did he try and shoot me?”

“I thought maybe you’d be able to tell me?”

I shake my head, shifting closer to Andrei, desperate to feel safe.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds me against his side.

“He was going to kill me. I almost died,” I mutter to myself.

“You’re okay, Tia. No one can find you here,” he whispers against my hair.

For a long time, we sit in silence, staring at the flames as they lick away at the wooden logs, which turn to glowing embers. My heart slowly returns to its normal pace, and my breathing evens out.

“Was Van with your brother?” Andrei asks, shifting slightly so that he can look at me.

“No, no one else was there.”

“Why would your brother want you dead, Tia?” The question is so blunt it shoots pain into my heart.

“He wouldn’t,” I stammer, defensive and hurt. Boris doesn’t want me dead. No. It can’t be.

“Did he ever try and hurt you before?”

“It wasn’t Boris—it was Van…” My words trail off as a memory surfaces from long ago.

I’m a young girl, standing in the passage outside my father’s office, and he’s angry with Boris; his voice is low, but he’s lecturing my half-brother. I remember thinking I shouldn’t be listening, but I couldn’t leave, I was too curious.

You had better take care of your sister, be nice to her and make sure no harm comes to her. Otherwise, you’ll get nothing from me. Do you understand, Boris? You’ll get nothing.

My father’s words loop in my head.

What does that mean?

“Tia?”

I tell Andrei about the memory, and he listens with his eyes narrowed. “Why would your father have to tell your brother to be nice to you? Did he want to hurt you back then?”

“Boris has never been violent with me. I don’t understand what it means. Or what my father meant when he said he would get nothing.”

“It sounds like your father was worried about how Boris was treating you.” Andrei’s eyes are dark with worry. But he’s wrong. It has to be a misunderstanding.

I shake my head, adamant that it’s just my memory that has mixed things up. I probably heard wrong.

The only person who has ever been aggressive with me at home is Van. Van is the asshole.

“I think Van was working on his own. Boris would never let him do that to me.”

The words are tight in my throat. Boris lets Van talk to me however he wants. He didn’t even get angry with him when I told Boris he slapped me.

But Boris loves me. He’s always kept me safe, kept me in the house where no one can harm me.

I bite my lower lip, trying to figure out what is going on.