Page 7 of Trapped by the Bratva (The Valkov Bratva #5)

HANNAH

“ H e really needs constant supervision.”

I thought back to Becca’s words and realized that I’d misinterpreted them. Dmitri Valkov wasn’t a decrepit old man at the end of his life. The man in the bed was weak and scarred, but he wasn’t vulnerable, without power.

This would not be an easy job like I had assumed it would be.

He was angry. Combative. With every glance he gave me, full of loathing and frustration, I knew this would be a challenge. He would test me at every turn. It didn’t help that he was already trying to reject me and get me out of this position.

But he didn’t know how much I needed it. The money was a huge perk I couldn’t pass on. The chance to run away from my sister was too good to give up.

Go on. Give me your worst. Desperation and determination would keep me right here, offering him whatever help I could give.

He did need it. I felt the tight knots of scar tissue around his injuries.

The surgeons who stitched him up did a good job, but being sewn up was only one step of the recovery process.

“If I ask for your cooperation, I expect it. I’m here to help you regain your former strength, but the only way that’s possible is if you put in the work.”

He stared at me, mulish. “Don’t act like a superior bitch.”

“I’m not. I’m laying down the law?—”

“The law?” He grunted a harsh laugh. “Your law?”

“Are you an expert at therapy?”

“No more than you are.”

“I’ve trained plenty. I recognize how tight and tense you are. How limited your range of motion is where you’ve had reconstructive surgery. You need?—”

He gripped my wrist, stilling my massaging motion. “Don’t think you have any right to tell me what I need.”

His fingers weren’t too tight to cause pain, but he held me firmly in place. I was aware that he was strong, even though he was weak from multiple injuries. His gesture wasn’t intended to hurt me, but to make a point. A display of power, and it pissed me off.

“All right, let’s get something straight. The only way this is going to work is if you get your head out of your ass. I’m not here to argue. I’m only here to help you.”

Saying that felt like a lie. Of course, I wanted to assist him and see him get better.

At the same time, I wanted to simply be near him.

Now that I’d crossed paths with him again, I wanted to learn more about him and who he was.

He’d given me such an instant sense of dominating security the first time I saw him that I wished for it again.

It was a one-eighty, a drastic difference to see him like this, all grumpy and broody.

Yet, he didn’t make me feel less secure. I wasn’t afraid.

“I want to help you regain what you had before you…” I frowned, at a loss for words.

“Before I was tortured.” He said it so dryly, stoic about it like it was an ordinary experience.

Tortured? I fought the urge to frown. First, he was on the scene when someone was kidnapping a baby. Then he ordered me to not contact Becca. Now, he was telling me that someone had tortured him?

I suddenly wasn’t sure if I wanted to know who this rugged man was. He certainly led a dangerous life, and I didn’t need more problems in mine.

I cleared my throat, unable to show my fear or give up on him. “I’m here to help you. You need my help.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Becca said on the way here that you fell. I will be here to assist you, and we’ll work together to get you more mobile.”

His intense stare wasn’t going to break me.

“You need my help,” I repeated.

With a swift tug, he pulled me off my feet. One-handed, he maneuvered me from leaning over him to lying on my side next to him on the big bed. I landed with a rushed exhale, startled both by his strength to pull that off and that he dared to get me up here.

This wasn’t professional. Not at all. This wasn’t part of how I intended to help him or aid his progress to a complete recovery.

Leaning on my side, I caught my breath and scowled at him. He’d held on to me, gripping my chin between his finger and thumb. Staring at him felt risky, but I couldn’t look away from the wicked heat in his eyes. “You want me to show you want a man needs from a woman like you?” he taunted.

I furrowed my brow as he tugged me to come closer. Again, he didn’t inflict pain with his forceful grip on my chin. His touch held command, but I was unharmed. It was the deep intensity of his green stare that prompted me to obey.

He insisted that I shift over toward him. With my chin in his hand, I had to brace myself on the bed. Placing my hand on the mattress made it easier to crawl to him, but I was too slow to register that his quick pull implied what he wanted.

A kiss. He slammed his lips to mine with a punishing harshness, but it didn’t frighten me. Hard but soft. Warm and wet. His lips brushed against mine, demanding that I part them. The second I did, he tightened his hold on me and urged me to come closer.

I gasped in surprise at first. It was unexpected. His kissing me, so unashamedly and with control, was the very last thing I could have counted on. It was also the number-one thing that I knew I shouldn’t be participating in.

I did. Pushing him back and stopping this insanity didn’t enter my mind.

A dormant desire burned brighter under his hungry lips, and I gave as good as I got. He growled as he swept his tongue through my mouth, chasing my tongue and stealing a taste.

As he slid his fingers past my chin, tracing along my jawline, I shivered at his callused touch.

Without his forceful hold on me, I had the freedom to back away.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. After all that time of thinking about him and wondering who he was, it was a crime to consider stopping this addictive touch.

His fingers slid to the back of my neck, cradling me in place, right where he wanted me. Tilting my head to the side, I acquiesced to his unspoken request. To be closer. To cave to his demand. To welcome his dominance over me as I tried to breathe fast enough and savor it all.

Liquid heat spread through me, all this spontaneous desire sparking so quickly. My heart raced from the thrill of a man like him kissing me so expertly, so masterfully, and from the naughtiness of being intimate with my patient.

It was wrong. On so many levels, this was frowned upon, but I couldn’t care. It felt too good to taste his angry mouth and explore until he growled again. Leveraging closer, I put my hands higher, one on his chest and another on the pillows.

“You want to talk about need?” he rasped against my lips when we parted for air.

He grabbed my knee and pushed until I lifted up and straddled him.

Hovering over him like this emphasized how aroused I’d become.

My pussy was throbbing, aching with increased blood flow.

Tension coiled low in my belly. Lifted over him like this, I brought my breasts closer to his face.

I’d only worn a summer dress to make a good impression. Like a job interview. I had no forewarning that my outfit could work to my advantage like this. Suspended over him, I felt too bare yet too covered up at the same time. He solved part of that problem.

With his teeth, he tugged the top of my dress away. It was built in with a shelf bra, so once he removed the fabric, I was exposed. My hard nipples pointed at his mouth. My breasts ached with a heaviness I’d never felt before.

As soon as he laid his lips on me, swirling his tongue around my nipple before he sucked hard, I cried out quietly.

He was my patient. This was his home. Becca—my friend—resided here somewhere.

I had no business straddling Dmitri like this. No right to arch my back and push my tits toward him, offering them for his kisses and licks. The sucks and pinches. He’d brought his free hand up to tweak my nipple with a bite of pain.

I hung my head low, moaning and breathing so hard as I rode out all the sensations. My cunt was dripping, and only grinding against the erection tented under the blanket helped the pressure there.

He lowered his hand to slip it under my panties.

Tormenting my breasts with his wicked mouth, he doubled down on the pleasure as he tugged my lingerie off my skin, ripping it at its threadbare seams. The coolness of air chilled me.

I was that wet. But he stroked his fingers along my folds, heating me up.

“Dmitri…” I gasped as he slid two fingers into my slick heat. The stretch was an unbelievably wonderful fullness, and I sank down on his hand.

“What, Darling?” he crooned between licking my nipples. His tone was teasing, cruelly so, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t summon the willpower to stop.

“You want to talk about needs?” he asked as he sped up his fingers and thumbed a slow circle around my clit.

“I…” I pressed my lips tighter together.

He pushed up with his fingers, and that much deeper, I tensed and groaned. It felt different, but so good. Then I realized he wasn’t only playing with me but guiding me.

“Hold this up,” he ordered with a direct glance at my dress.

Shaky on my knees, I gripped my dress and bunched it up high. He’d slid down on the bed, and at this angle, I tried to make sense of what he was ordering me to do.

With his fingers in my pussy, he pushed me to crawl closer. All the way, until I straddled his head, not his lap.

“Dmitri?”

He stared up at me. His eyes were so dilated as he locked his heated gaze on me. Then he slid his fingers out. Gripping my bare ass, he smeared my cream on my skin. Lower and lower, he forced me.

I gripped the headboard, so stunned that he wanted to?—

“Oh!” I bit my lip to keep from crying out louder. He pushed me down to his face, and his tongue was right back on me, swiping from my entrance to my clit, then stabbing up into me.

He lifted his other hand, the weaker one with all the scars, but he had strength enough to place his fingers on my ass and dig in. One cheek in each hand, he clamped me down to his face as he ate me out.

All while staring straight up at me.

I held on and rocked my hips, grinding against his mouth like he forced me to. His hands directed me, and I was grateful for it because my legs trembled. My breath came too choppy and my pulse wouldn’t slow.

With his stare on me, I came. I bit into my lip so hard that I tasted blood, but I refused to let anyone else in this home know that I was getting pleasured by my patient.

His tongue didn’t stop. He kept licking and laving at me, collecting my juices and sucking them down noisily. Each time his nose bumped into my sensitive clit, I shook all over again. I was too sensitive, too sore.

Too… ashamed. As the glow of my orgasm faded, the need to hide and avoid making eye contact claimed me.

He must have noticed the change on my face. From utter bliss and relief, I was nervous and freaking out.

I crawled back off him, and I damn near tumbled as I set one foot down on the floor. My thighs quivered, but once I managed to stand fully, I frantically smoothed my dress back down, as though he could see through it and see the wetness from his tongue and my cream.

Embarrassed that I'd caved so easily, I smoothed my hair down and stepped away from the bed. I didn’t know what to do, what to say.

He beat me to it.

“Obviously,” he said smugly, then cleared his throat, “it seems that you need me . Not the other way around.”

I whipped around to face him, catching sight of his stern glower.

Shit.

I turned and rushed out of his room, almost tripping over my duffle bag I’d set just outside the door.