Page 41 of Hunt Me (Dmitriyev Bratva #1)

B ristol

I was shocked, so much so I couldn’t breathe.

Somehow, he managed to rip the belt free completely. With a single hard crack of the strap against the concrete floor, I jumped, giving him the satisfaction of issuing a strangled whimper. My God. I couldn’t believe I was letting this man win.

The fight was ebbing away, my muscles aching.

“Now, be a good girl.”

Lightheaded, I was forced to take several deep breaths. This was crazy. He was crazy. I wiggled on the bed, trying to push myself up, but he pushed me down again seconds before he cracked the belt against my backside.

I was so shocked, air expelled from my lungs. Tears of frustration immediately rushed to my eyes, and I felt myself stilling under his command.

“That’s it. Just stay calm and this will be over soon. However, I will provide you with punishment as necessary if you continue defying me. Do you understand?” As if to prove a point, he smacked my bottom three times in rapid succession.

Suddenly, I felt the pain, the racking anguish that was driven to both my arms and legs. Stars floated in front of my eyes and I was at a loss of knowing how to breathe. “Yes,” I squawked.

“Let’s try that again.” He smacked the thick strap against my upper thighs and I jumped.

“Yes, sir!” The words rushed from my mouth before I could control myself. This was crazy. I was woozy, still trying to figure out how to escape him.

“Better. Just breathe for me, Bristol, and this will be over with. You’ll be calmer afterward.”

Was he kidding me? Calmer? I would likely dig out his eyes with my pinky fingers. I took another deep breath and when he brought the belt down twice more, I bit back a curse.

Yet as the anguish unfolded, I felt a stickiness between my legs. No way. I was wet? My pussy was clenching? Oh, my God. That wasn’t possible.

Yet it was.

Panting, I clawed at the iron springs, trying to keep my bearings. He continued the spanking, bringing the belt down three or maybe four times. I was at a complete loss, my mind spinning with everything we’d shared and all that he’d done to me.

Yet my pussy continued to throb.

I heard his deep breath and braced for another horrible round. When he caressed my skin instead, I stiffened, gritting my teeth. He would never hear me cry again. Damn him. Damn everything about him. I hated him.

Then why are you so wet?

The question was valid. I took several deep breaths as he rolled the rough pads of his fingers from one side of my bottom to the other, ending by running them up the crack of my ass.

I shuddered involuntarily to his touch, hating myself even more.

Heat was building, not only on my bruised ass, but also between my legs. My core was on fire, every inch of skin tingling. From this? From him? From the man who electrified me.

Sick inside, when he started the spanking again, I was limp, lying across the cot like the good little girl he wanted me to be. The scent of my desire permeated the air and I was disgusted.

Completely embarrassed.

And I could tell by his heavy breathing he was excited.

Damn the man.

Damn everything about him.

He cracked the belt four times, taking his time doing so. The sound echoed in my ears as the pain shifted into an incredible warmth. I was practically enjoying this. I even parted my legs, squirming to create friction against my pussy.

Another deep sigh drew my attention. “Are you wet for me, ideal’nyy angel ? Are you hungry for my cock to be buried deep inside of you?”

“Never,” I said. Lying.

He knew it. His dark and demonic chuckle was a clear indication. He thrust several fingers into my aching pussy, the sound of my wetness abominable. Yet even so, as his actions became rougher, I humped his fingers.

He took his time until I was on the verge of climaxing, pulling his fingers away completely.

“No pleasure for bad girls. Five more.”

“No. I’ll…” My God. I was almost ready to exclaim I’d be a good girl. That was as crazy as the tingling sensations coursing through me.

His hesitation made me cringe. I refused to finish my sentence. He didn’t deserve to hear anything from me.

Except for my hatred.

And I did hate the man.

Even though I craved him.

He cracked the belt down once and I could swear the strike was harder than before. I jerked up, panting while stars floated in front of my eyes.

“Rules are important, Bristol, and you will follow mine.”

Why did his voice thrill me? Why were his words echoing in my mind while his scent intoxicated me?

The next four were delivered slowly, the brute allowing his message to sink into my mind with each stroke.

With each gasp.

With each moan.

I couldn’t move. Hell, I couldn’t think or breathe. There was no making sense of the desire roaring through me or the wetness between my legs. What had the man done to me? Was I really enthused by the thought of a powerful, dangerous man? Evidently, I was.

How sick did that make me?

I could feel his heated presence as he hovered over me, taking a few seconds to caress my back, running his fingers along my spine. I hated that I was squirming to his touch and not in a bad way.

The thought of hungering for this man was no longer disgusting. It was special. Crazy. I was a crazy girl.

Sighing, I realized tears had fallen even though I’d forbidden them. My body had betrayed me again.

“You’re a very special woman, Bristol. I had no idea how much.”

What in the hell was that supposed to mean?

He sat down on the bed beside me, pulling me up and into his arms. And onto his lap. As he cupped my face, I realized just how difficult it was to focus. I licked my lips and his nostrils immediately flared.

“You need to hear something.” His voice remained deep, penetrating my very soul.

“That you plan on killing me?”

His laugh sounded bitter. “No, I am not going to kill you.”

“Then what?” I managed to find the energy to scramble off his lap, backing away immediately. When I looked into his eyes, I could tell he was despondent.

He’d just spanked me like some wayward child and he was having difficulty with his actions?

Not possible.

He stood and when he did, I backed away another few feet, smoothing my dress down as if the slip of material would protect me. Of course it wouldn’t. Nothing could.

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. You act like you want me, yet blame me for your friend’s death. I didn’t kill him.”

“I know you didn’t,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Then why am I here?”

“You know exactly why.”

His eyes were imploring and he was close, so close I could feel his heated breath dancing across my skin.

“How the hell can I trust you?”

“You can’t.”

“Asshole,” I muttered.

Snorting, he gave me an incredulous look. “Do you think I brought you here to end your life?”

“That’s exactly what I think.”

This time, he threw my arms over my head, wrapping his long fingers around both wrists. “You obviously have no understanding of who I am. And what I can and will do, but that ending your life isn’t… It isn’t what I want.”

The darkness pooling in his eyes was the color of black granite, hard, cold, and calculating. Yet there was something entirely different about him, the moment allowing me to see into his soul, to feel the pain he was experiencing.

“No, I don’t understand you at all.” I continued struggling, fighting him with everything I had.

He laughed softly then gave me a stern glare. “Stop it, Bristol.”

This was little more than a crazy standoff of some kind. I hated that he looked so damn sexy, the ruby red color of his lips reminding me about the kiss. A flush of embarrassment crawled up from my neck when I involuntarily dragged my tongue across my bottom lip.

My God. What was I doing?

The man was a killer, which was exactly what he’d do to me. This wasn’t some game of fantasy. This was real life, filled with unavoidable consequences.

Sadly, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

“And you stop saying my name. You don’t deserve to say my name. Not ever.”

His sigh was deep and he took several exaggerated breaths. “Do you remember anything from when you were a child?”

“You mean like having normal, supportive parents who weren’t law breakers?”

“Listen to me and answer the question. Do you remember an amusement park when you were a little girl?”

His question not only caught me off guard, it stunned me. “Why?”

“Because I need to know.” His face twisted, contorting until it was expression was full of emotions.

Anger.

Frustration.

Sadness.

But there was something else I couldn’t read.

“I don’t understand.”

Mikhail clenched my jaw, wrenching it, the fire in his eyes exactly what I would expect from him. He drew closer, lowering his head until our lips were almost touching. “It’s important for you to remember.”

When he brushed his lips across mine, a swirl of desire swept through every cell and every muscle.

I was lightheaded, uncertain what he was getting at, but a memory…

Images rushed into my mind. No, wait. As he captured my mouth, I was lost in him almost immediately.

He was different, drinking from my mouth as if a dying man.

I was breathless, stars floating in front of my eyes and images rolling through the back of my mind. No. This wasn’t possible. Not even a small chance.

The kiss was powerful, a sweet yet deceptive moment. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t my lover. He wasn’t my friend.

He was my captor.

Then why was being his captive no longer terrifying?

After pulling away, he closed his eyes. I was frozen to the spot. His fingers continued dancing across my skin, the white-hot heat building between us.

When he stepped away, his chest was heaving. He turned around slowly and I craned my neck to see what he was doing.

He was unbuttoning his shirt.

I pressed my hand over my mouth and for some inexplicable reason, tears formed in my eyes. Memories surfaced, images playing in my mind like a broken record. I had no idea what to think yet I knew instinctively the reason for our strong connection.

As he peeled his shirt away, I held my breath. The moment he allowed the shirt to slip through his fingers, I gasped, a strangled sob rushing up from the darkness.

From the nightmares.

Another series of images attacked my psyche. I could see his face. Not as he was now but as a young man, a boy who’d peered down at me, thankful he’d save my life.

Scars mottled his back, crisscrossing his skin. Long and deep, they remained a testament to a dangerous boy who’d dared save the life of a little girl.

When I broke down, several sobs escaping, he turned around. In his eyes I could see reverence, a strange and twisted joy that he’d awakened something inside us both.

“Do you remember?” he asked, his voice dangerously sexy.

I nodded, uncertain how I was supposed to react. When I lifted my arm, he inched closer, turning once again so I could touch his scars. My legs remained shaky, but the longing to touch him, to brush my fingers across the boy who’d saved my life overwhelming.

With every light touch, his shoulders rose and fell and he slowly tipped his head over his shoulder. “Saving you is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life and I would do it all over again.”

His words echoed and I wrapped my arms around him, cradling him as close to my body as possible.

I no longer feared him or what he would do.

There was no hate, no regret for our passion.

There was something much deeper that gripped my very sense of being.

He was no longer just my captor. The handsome man with the piercing eyes was my savior.