Page 15 of Sexting My Bratva Boss

I can tell because her body goes stiff as I pull away and stand. Audrey’s eyes are wide, her pupil’s blown out and dark, mouth open as she pants.

Embarrassed, she pulls her legs together and tries to sit up in the chair. Through the creamy material of her dress, I can see the peaks of her nipples, begging for attention.

“Stand up.”

She does.

Finally, she understands.

She’s mine.

“No,” I bark sharply as she moves to retrieve her underwear. “Leave them.”

Taking her arm firmly, I walk her to the door, knowing that her thighs are drenched. I can still smell her—on my face, in my beard, in this room.

Her hand is on the handle, but I stop her with a whisper.

“I want you to think about this all day, Miss Wolfe. About just how easily I could have made you come. It’s nothing to me; it’s as easy as pulling a trigger. When you go home tonight, you’ll touch yourself again, and you’ll think ofthis.Of the way I had you in this chair. Understand?”

She nods, head falling back involuntarily, ass pressing toward me.

She wants more. Good. If she’s desperate, she’ll do as I say.

“I’ve thought about what your punishment will be for stealing from me, Miss Wolfe.”

Over her shoulder, her scared eyes meet mine.

“You’ll give me an heir.”

Chapter 5

Audrey

Friday.

Friday comes and I… haven’t.

I’ve been too scared to do what Konstantin told me to do—to touch myself and think of him, of the things he did to me in that room with everyone right down the hall.

Scared because of how much I liked it.

Scared because it was the best almost-sex I’ve ever had.

And because the man who got me so wet they’ll probably have to reupholster that chair is mybossand no less than a murderer.

There’s a thud out in the hallway, as if I summoned the man himself. I jump, hand to my chest, and stare at the double bolted lock. What are the chances Konstantin decided he’s sick of me? That it would be easier to dispose of me than have me carry his child, a surrogate slave to be used as he sees fit?

Cautiously, I walk over, barefoot. Peering through the peephole doesn’t make me feel any more relieved when I see who it is.

Sal.

Damn. I’ve been avoiding him all week, but there was no escaping this. I’dhadto tell him what happened, and that meant admitting that Konstantin Martynov found the missing money.

“Oh, God, it’s just you.”

“Just me.Just me.We know who you thought it was, right? Who you’re afraid of? You think he’s going to send someone to pick you off?”

I bite my lip, not wanting to admit that Iwasscared of that. It wouldn’t be hard for Martynov’s men to overpower me and make it look like an accident, or a suicide.