Page 2 of Sexting My Bratva Boss (Mafia Silver Foxes #1)

Konstantin

T he clasp of my belt snicks open and I watch her eyes widen. It makes my cock stir, the way she fears me; the way I can tell she’s torn between scrambling away from me or submitting, giving up those luscious lips for my use.

It’s tempting.

I’ve been fantasizing about wrecking Audrey Wolfe ever since she set foot in my office.

Before that, even. Ever since I saw her at that job site and told Olena I wanted her transferred. Wanted her closer.

Wanted to feast my eyes on her body every day.

Those plump curves, the prim clothes she wears. Tight dresses with high collars and stockings with the lines up the back. Makes me wonder if she has a garter belt pressing into her thick hips and what kind of sounds she’d make if I snapped it.

I want to devour her.

I want to own her.

And she’s finally given me the way to make that happen.

“I want you to stand up, Miss Wolfe.”

Taking a step back, I can’t help smirking as her eyes narrow and lips purse. She wants to curse me, I’m sure, because standing up on those precarious heels of hers will be hard to do.

She gets one foot under her, wobbles, and falls forward, grabbing my thighs. The trousers I had pressed only yesterday are getting wrinkled under her clenched hands and my cock twitches with interest again.

“If you’re trying to distract me by undressing me, it won’t work, Miss Wolfe.”

She glowers up at me, but her cheeks go pink. Pressing her palms to the floor, she gets her balance and stands, arms crossed over her chest.

I tip my chin toward the desk.

“There.”

“What…” She glances at the desk, solid dark wood, and then back at me apprehensively. “What do you want me to--?”

“Bend over,” I interrupt.

The leather belt is warm in my hand. Audrey seems to realize what I’m demanding, and her eyes widen, but she takes tentative steps toward the desk, obeying.

Good.

I need to know that she can do as I say. Even if it scares her.

She puts her hands on the desk and bends over, but her back is rigid, hair spilling over her shoulders. She glances back at me wildly.

“Mm mmm.” Gently but firmly, I nudge her feet wider apart with a boot.

Her breathing picks up.

But she can’t help it; her lower back arches, giving me her ass, encased perfectly in the beige pencil skirt that hugs every curve.

I lick my lips, the leather belt sliding through my hand as I get ready to punish her.

Then Lev clears his throat.

There’s no mistaking it, because the sounds that come out of Lev are primal and grating. He has never once spoken; not since my men picked him up on the street when he was seven years old and beaten half to death.

He has a tongue but doesn’t use it.

I’ve thought many times that the young man could be made to speak in tongues if the right woman fucked him. But what my soldiers get up to in their free time is entirely their business.

“What.”

He gives me a bored look, but the twitch of his eyebrow tells me something is up. Most likely on home turf, since Lev heads the soldiers in this city.

He knows he’s dismissed as soon as I look away, and disappears silently.

Audrey lets out a shuddering breath. It’s delicious; stepping forward, I press my hips to her ass, reach around, and wrap her throat with one hand. All it takes is a little pressure for her to whimper.

She’s mine.

“Miss Wolfe,” I whisper in her ear, smirking as she presses her ass to my already-throbbing dick, “I’m going to make you pay me back, one way or another. And you’ll tell me who made you do this—whether I have to get it out of you in a scream or a moan.”

A shiver runs down her spine as I release her and step away.

She grabs her folders, weak-kneed, and can’t meet my eyes as she hurries from the office.

If I’m right, then as much as Miss Wolfe hates me, she’ll spend the day pressing her thighs together and wishing I was fucking her over this very desk.

There’s a thin line between hate and lust.

“ Blyat ' . ” Shit.

Eyes closed, I rub my palm over my member, knowing that it’ll be impossible to sleep now that I’m aware of what her body feels like pressed tightly against mine.

It takes a deep breath or two before I’m calm enough to summon Lev. A button on my desk buzzes him, and he slips back into the room.

“I want you to follow her.”

Like a good soldier, he doesn’t question me. Never has. Lev stares in that unblinking way of his, which unnerves everyone he comes across as much as his silence.

“Discreetly,” I add, rounding the desk to sit in the high-backed chair. “She’s lying about why she took the money, and I want to know why. A woman like Miss Wolfe doesn’t make stupid fucking decisions unless she’s afraid.”

Anger boils through me. Flexing my clenched fist, I try to fight the urge to walk out onto the floor again, tower over her, and demand to know who’s controlling her.

Because she’s mine. Mine to control. And I’ll kill any man who makes her feel threatened.

Lev doesn’t look convinced. There are only a handful of times in my life I’ve felt the need to explain myself. With my position and power, explanations would be seen as a weakness; as the need to justify my actions.

I’m not that kind of man.

I do what I want, take what I want, and leave others to deal with the fallout.

But Lev has a way of making me think out loud. And I know he’d never say a word to anyone about my musings, so I lean back and expound.

“I’ll get the truth out of her and punish her for taking what’s mine. And then I’ll hunt down whoever put her up to it and destroy them.”

Lev slips his phone out of his pocket, deftly typing up a succinct request: access to her employee information, questions about how many men I want on her place, and what to do if someone shows up.

I make it clear that I want blood, but that ultimately, I want the kill.

And that they should do anything in their power to protect her.

Then I try to turn my attention back to the matter at hand: running my empire.

The one I worked so hard for.

The one I intend to keep.

The townhouse is five floors, with a bar on the roof and a pool on the lower level. Every inch of it screams luxury, and every inch has been tailored to my needs.

Somehow, it isn’t satisfying me tonight.

I pace the third floor and look out across the river. It’s dark, city lights shimmering on the surface.

I’ve put countless bodies in that water.

I’ll put thousands more in before I’m done.

And yet… it all feels purposeless.

With a low growl, I slide the glass of kvass across the table and stalk out of the room.

The drink is cheap; sweet and sour, with a heady scent that reminds me of bread.

Specifically, of the breadbox in my mother’s home, the one painted with little red flowers.

I close my eyes and I’m there again: Russia thirty years ago, stomach growling as I tuck myself into the corner of the kitchen and hope there’s food for the night.

The memory drives me to my own kitchen. It takes up half of the first floor, industrial-style prep tables and high-end appliances gleaming black and steel. A wall of knives, more than my personal chef will ever need, and a refrigerator that’s as big as a restaurant’s walk-in.

I’ll never go hungry here.

I’ve made sure of that.

“So why isn’t this enough?” I hiss, gripping the cold steel table and feeling the pulsing echo of the hole in my chest.

Thirty years.

Thirty years ago, I climbed out of that hell-hole. Thirty years ago, I promised my mother I’d come back for her, that I’d make her life better.

And I did.

But she sent me away; didn’t want me. Even after I moved her and her svoloch' second husband to a real home, a two-story in the city center with heat and water and groceries delivered once a week.

Even then she didn’t want me.

So, this is my home now—America. I’ve built an empire on this asphalt, expanded further than I ever imagined. My reach knows no bounds. This very week I have men negotiating in China for a megatower, connecting our arms deal to the far east.

It’s what I should be thinking about, that deal, and the expansion of my holdings.

Instead, I’m picturing her . Spread out on this very table, nipples hard from the cold steel, soft skin rippling with pleasure as I pound into her over and over.

As I make her beg, for forgiveness, for more, for mercy.

Audrey Wolfe.

Dropping my head into my hands, I try to fight off the snippets of her that my mind has saved up. Later, alone in the shower, they’ll come back. I’ll fist my cock to fantasies of yanking one of those little dresses up, exposing her ass, making her cry out as the belt leaves a red mark.

She needs to be punished.

No longer plagued by thoughts of my childhood, I return to the study and pull open a drawer. Inside is a folder—one given to me by Duscha, so loyal and conniving, so jealous and ambitious.

It was she who noticed Audrey’s mistake. Not that it’s her job to check the other accountants’ work.

I never trusted her, she’d snarled in my office when everyone had gone home. She’d begged a meeting with me via Olena, who I was surprised gave in and agreed.

Women.

Always trying to destroy one another.

Little did Duscha know, she gave me the very thing I needed to bring Miss Wolfe closer. To get a tighter grip on her.

“What am I going to do with you?” I murmur, turning a page slowly to stare down at her personnel file.

Her home address is listed there, an apartment. Small, probably, but good enough. Something for her to be proud of.

“I could give you so much more.”

But first… she needs to be punished.

She needs to give me what I’m owed. Or I can take it from her.

Somewhere in the office my phone buzzes dully. I find it hidden beneath today’s suit jacket, but it’s not my personal phone; it’s my business phone.

The one with every important employee’s number in it.

The one for emergencies.

Her full name and position appear atop the message: Audrey Lauren Wolfe, Head Accountant.

The message itself… well, it has my attention. And makes it even more clear that I need to break her.

Watch her eyes fill with hate as I fill her with my seed.

Audrey Wolfe will give me what I really want.

A child.