Page 29 of Sexting My Bratva Boss

Her moans get higher in pitch. She’s close, so I bury myself in her and fuck her quickly, shallow, feeling my cock bottom out as her hips match my rhythm. Putting my other knee on the bed, I lean over her, fingers still playing her clit.

“You’ll tell me,” I grunt, fucking her harder. “I know you’ve been lying to me, Audrey, and I’ll find out the truth. You’ll tell me who put you up to stealing the money. You’ll tell me why.And then you’ll let me fuck you like this, over and over, becauseyou’re mine.”

Her pussy clenches around me as she orgasms, a shudder going through her whole body. Finally, I lose myself in the sensation of her taking me, every inch of me. I know she’ll be bruised and sore later, and it makes this even more delicious.

As her hips twitch under me, I give in to the ever-tightening heat and fill her with my seed. Slowing, I fuck into her over and over. Making sure to bury it deep. To give her every last drop.

To begin my legacy with her beneath me.

Chapter 9

Audrey

It’s like waking up on a cloud.

That’s all I can think as I burrow deeper into the duvet, the scent unrecognizable; definitely not the bed in my apartment…

Then it comes back in a rush. Especially when my pussy throbs, making me draw my knees up.

I open my eyes and peer out from the pile of luxurious bedding. Cream, blue, white; the room is beautiful. The windows are tall, letting morning light spill in, and the furniture is simple but gives off an air of elegance.

My heart aches with how much I love every detail.

How did he know?

Konstantin.

Feeling the stickiness between my thighs, I sit up with a blush, expecting—what?

I’m alone.

Of course he’s not here; he’s Konstantin Martynov.

The blush turns into a flush of embarrassment. Would a man like him ever actually spend the night in bed with a woman like me? Wake next to me, so I don’t feel so… alone?

With a shiver, I remember that as much as I love the décor, I don’t actually know this house. I barely remember the layout, and that makes me feel vulnerable, so I slip out of the bed quickly.

There’s a trickle of warmth down my thigh. Ignoring thoughts of the previous night—of how easily I gave in to him—I pad over to the ensuite and refuse to look in the mirror, searching out hand towels and running warm water.

Should I… clean up here? Take a bath? It’s tempting; the clawfoot tub is beautiful, and I wouldn’t mind soaking. The last two weeks, the stress, have left me tense and on edge.

Last night was the first time I felt any kind of release.

Any kind of mindless pleasure, giving in entirely to someone else’s control.

Oh, God. The way I just let him do whatever he wanted to me.

Okay, I need to be realistic about this. Glancing out the window, it’s obviously well past morning. The neighborhood is quiet; I can barely see the next house over through the oak trees, and there’s a sense of privacy here.

How the hell am I going to get home?

I’m not even sure which direction the city is in, although I’m sure once I clear the trees I’ll be able to see the buildings. Craning, I try to see if the cars are still parked down the street—after all, he’s been having men watching me. He made that very clear.

He wouldn’t leave me all alone in this house, right? With no security, no protection?

Especially considering I might already be conceiving his child.

Fifteen minutes later I’m relatively cleaned up, and trying to decide if I should call a cab company, an Uber, or just wait until he calls.