Page 11 of Sexting My Bratva Boss
I guess I’ll just have to take care of it myself.
Sliding the phone across the counter, I slip my hand beneath the silk panties and find my throbbing clit easily. As soon as my fingers graze it, I whimper; a sound mirroring the one I made in Konstantin’s office with his erection pressed against my ass.
Eyes closed, I let the fantasy play out beyond the guard’s interruption:
‘I’m going to make you pay me back, one way or another.’
What would he have done next? Yanked up my skirt and spanked me until my skin was red and raw?
Undone his zipper and fisted himself, rubbing his hard length between my folds?
‘You’ll tell me who made you do this.‘
Trying to mimic the way I want him to touch me, I let out another frustrated whimper; my slim fingers are no match for Konstantin Martynov’s large hands and rough touch. But after a day of feeling on edge, turned on, and in danger, the wine is all I need to loosen up just enough…
‘Whether I have to get it out of you in a scream or a moan.’
The orgasm washes over me hard, a ripple from my center to the hard peaks of my nipples, shudders running through mewith my legs spread and the sloppy sounds of my desire filling the little apartment as I ride it out on my fingers.
It takes a moment to catch my breath.
Across the counter, my phone lights up.
Sal has probably heard from someone about the incident in the Spire. I know he has a mole inside, someone other than me, but I haven’t been able to figure out why. Either way, he’ll be pissed that I’m on Martynov’s radar now.
Sighing, I tap the screen.
The notification is from Chrissy asking if I got back okay, since we took separate cabs. I start to type back, but then see the three little dots on another text thread?—
The message to Last Resort.
The dirty, pushy, snappy challenge I sent to my boss only minutes ago. I brace myself for his response, but there isn’t one.
The three little dots disappear.
Under my message is the small phraseRead 7:45 p.m.
Fuck.
With a man like Konstantin Martynov, silence is a death sentence.
Chapter 4
Konstantin
Unlike in movies, the security center of the Obsidian Spire isn’t in the basement. It isn’t dark, damp, or locked behind thick walls of concrete.
I need my men to have access at all times.
Ineed to have access at all times.
“Move.”
The guard doesn’t make eye contact or even flinch, as if it’s a normal occurrence for me to appear on the second floor, where the Command Center is located, and usurp his chair. It’s well-worn and comfortable, made for hours of sitting in front of these monitors, which take up most of the sixteen-foot wall. He stands, gathers the coffee mug and radio, and steps away.
Lev has cleared everyone else out. He remains at the main door with his back facing me as he stares out through the glass.
The door is one of five that allow my guards out into the building, giving them the fastest access possible.