Page 39 of Konstantin (Marinov Bratva #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

EMILIA

Konstantin’s SUV silently glides on the road as we drive to the club, while I glance at my reflection in the tinted window.

A strappy red gown clings to my skin, my body accentuated by the soft, luxurious fabric.

Gently, I adjust the intricate gold lace mask he gave me that sits on the bridge of my nose, the anticipation of this evening taking over.

It’s one thing to have heard about a place like this, but a whole other thing to experience it.

When the car pulls to a stop, the hum of the engine dying away, I peer over at him, face concealed by a simple black mask as he types something on his cell. Surveying the industrial building in the middle of nowhere, New Jersey, I have no idea what’s waiting for me inside.

He exits first, coming around to open my door and giving me his hand as I step out. The heels on my feet don’t add enough inches to come close to his towering height, which both intimidates and excites me.

More than a dozen cars are already parked as we approach the door, where a man in a red devil’s mask taps away at his laptop.

“Boss,” he greets Konstantin.

“Privet. This is my wife. Tessa, this is Igor.”

“Good to meet you.” The man nods, his accent thicker than Konstantin’s.

“You too.”

As we head through the glass doors, he presses a button for the elevator, and we ride up in silence. His hand slips into mine, and he brings my knuckles to his lips. I love when he does that.

The elevator opens, revealing a hallway with a coat check area before we head toward two double doors. The moment we step inside, the atmosphere shifts. Low, colorful lights bathe us in a seductive glow, the music thumping through the speakers with an erotic rhythm.

“There aren’t any guests here yet,” he says over the music. “It won’t open for another hour.”

I glance around, eyeing the people in masks and red collars. “And who are they?”

He pulls me closer, his palms tugging my hips as he stares into my eyes. “That’s my staff. This is what Mira does.” His lips brush my ear as he leans in. “What you would’ve done, if I hadn’t found it impossible to picture you with anyone but me.”

My arms slip around him, my fingers grazing his back. “Is that where your genius idea of making me your assistant came from?”

A smirk pulls at his lips, the heat in his gaze scorching me where I stand. “Yes, but my true brilliance came when I made you my wife.”

I raise a brow, my lips curling playfully. “I think you’re overestimating your brilliance.”

His laughter vibrates through me, deep and raspy. “I think you’re underestimating it, katyonak.”

Something flickers in his irises. A flash of something darker, more intense. But it disappears as quickly as it appeared, leaving me questioning if I even saw it.

“Come. I want to show you around.” His fingers slide into mine but he makes no attempt to move.

“Whatever you say, sir .”

He catches the seductive note in my tone, and with a low groan, his mouth takes mine, urgent and all-consuming.

A deep, primal sound slips from him as he drags me flush against him, his hand fisting my hair as he kisses me with an intensity that leaves me breathless.

I melt into him as his fingers tangle in my hair, the other hand gripping my jaw and tilting my face as he deepens our connection.

With the masks on, everything is heightened. Every urge, every desire.

He pitches back, longing clouding his eyes, his lips still curled in a devilish smile.

“What was that for?” I breathe.

“I like it when you call me ‘sir.’ Keep doing that.”

“Yes, sir.” My giggle fades as I watch his nostrils flare, his grip tightening around me, the heat between us intensifying.

He mutters something under his breath as he leads me down into another section of the club.

“So, what exactly will I see here?”

His grin widens. “Just about everything. Every fantasy you can imagine.”

A surge of warmth shoots through me, the thought of what I might witness or even experience making my body tingle with heightened anticipation. Stepping out of my comfort zone is tempting, and if I’m going to explore, it’s him I’d want to test every boundary with.

We stride down a narrow hallway, the walls lined with fine art and plush, elegant furniture that gives the place the air of a luxurious home.

Except it’s not. It’s a sex dungeon .

My gaze shifts to a room with rings hanging from the ceiling, a tray of toys in the corner, and another with a metal bar attached high up. We pass more rooms, and I can’t seem to look away from the equipment on display, my curiosity drawing me deeper into this strange, intoxicating world.

When we stop in front of another area, his eyes shift toward me as I stare at the bench in the center of the room, leather straps attached to the arms and legs. I know exactly what it is: a spanking bench.

My body instantly ignites, like it knows exactly what I want before I do. Thoughts race through my mind, imagining how it would feel to be strapped to it while he touches me, takes me hard and deep from behind.

“Do you want to ask me something?”

It’s like he can read my thoughts, and I wonder if he knows exactly what I’m imagining.

Keeping my composure, I say, “Have you ever done that to a woman?”

His lips drift into a faint smile. “Yes.”

My stomach tightens, my jaw clenching as I try to push away the knot of jealousy twisting inside me. It’s irrational, I know. But it doesn’t make it go away.

“Did you like it?”

His knuckles graze my cheek, gentle but electric, and my breath catches. “Yes.”

My chest tightens even further. “Did she?”

He chuckles, low and seductive, the sound wrapping around me like a thorny vine. “Ask me what you really want to ask me, Tessa.”

His hand slides around my back, pulling me into him, his hard body pressing against mine.

Suddenly, the words stick in my throat. My body pulses, aching for what I can’t bring myself to say. But he doesn’t need my words. He feels it dripping from my skin, written in the way I tremble beneath his gaze.

His mouth lowers to my ear, breath hot and wicked. “Do you want me to slip off this dress and restrain you, malyshka?”

The way he says it, low, lethal, makes my body grow taut.

“Do you want me to leave my mark on your skin?” he goes on. “Shall I do it with my palm…or the whip I favor most?”

His hand grips my hip hard before pushing me backward until my spine hits the wall with a soft thud. I gasp as he leans in, his body caging mine, dominance rolling off him like a deadly touch.

“I can lock the door…” His lips brush my cheek. “…and it’ll be just us. Or…I can leave it open. Let them all watch what it looks like when you give in. When you surrender completely to me.”

My throat dries, every inch of my skin burning with untamed and reckless desire.

“Do you want the pain, Tessa? The pleasure?” His fingers slide down, inching beneath my dress. “Do you want to let go and give me everything?”

Maybe? Yes? God, stop making me feel so damn good.

He finds me bare beneath the silk of my dress, his fingers slipping between my thighs. My moan breaks free before I can swallow it, head falling back against the wall as he circles my clit with devastating slowness.

This is so unfair…

“I want to watch your skin turn red beneath my palm.” He pushes a finger inside me, and need swirls like a storm. “I want to watch my whip kiss your skin. Hear you beg for my cock. Beg me to fill your tight little cunt until it hurts. Until you’re ruined for anyone else.”

A second finger joins the first, and my body clenches around him, desperate and greedy.

“I want to test every one of your limits. Tear through them until there’s nothing left but animalistic need. Then give you more than you ever knew you needed. I want it all with you, Tessa. Only you. ”

My hand flies to the back of his neck, dragging him to me like I’ll shatter if he doesn’t kiss me right now.

He lets me take the lead, my mouth grazing his, exhales skimming over those lips I crave too much, and then I crash into him, rough and reckless, unable to stop the way I want him, like I can’t breathe without him.

This isn’t just lust. It’s ravenousness. Obsession-rivaling madness. The kind of craving that claws at the edge of sanity. The kind I always thought was fiction.

I’m so glad I was wrong.

Before I even realize what’s happening, we’re in the room, his hands hot against my skin, cupping my breasts with a possessive hunger that has me gasping. His fingers pinch my nipples hard enough to sting, and I welcome it.

I need the pain. Need the edge, the release. He knows that now. Knows exactly how far I’m willing to go.

Maybe I’ve lost my mind, but deep down, I know this desire is something I’ve always lived with. And right now, it feels like the only sane thing I’ve ever done.

His fingers slide down my back, finding the zipper of my dress, while the other hand reaches for the door.

“Leave it open,” I whisper, the command slipping past my lips without thinking.

He grins, a slow, satisfied smile, before his hands cup my cheeks, pulling me into his gaze. The tenderness of his touch catches me off guard, and before I can react, his lips brush mine with a slowness that drives me wild.

The kiss deepens, like he’s savoring something sacred. And in this moment, everything else fades—the noise, the confusion, the uncertainty of everything we are.

All I feel is him.

When he pulls back, his gaze lingers. Dark. Intense. Burning through me. As if he’s trying to memorize every part of me from the inside out.

And I let him. Because whatever this is, whatever we’re becoming, I don’t want it to stop.

“I need you to pick a safe word. If at any point you want it to end, all you have to do is say it.”

The thing he’s offering, control wrapped in consent, presses against my skin. Tension coils in the space between us as I consider it. Am I really doing this? Here? With him? In front of?—