Broken God: A Dark Bratva Academy Romance, page 21
She swallows, our eyes locked.
“Ripped-off dress? Pinned to the bed? Fighting you?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I cup her jaw and pull her close as I crush my lips to hers again. Her nails dig into my chest, and I drop my mouth to her neck, biting down, making her moan as her hips surge into mine.
“And neither would you,” I rasp into her ear.
My hand moves to my belt, loosening it. Her fingers slide down my abs to my button, popping it and tugging down the zipper with shaking hands. We both shove my pants down before I kick them away.
When my heavy cock springs free, I let it drag over her sticky little pussy, her legs curling around me as I push her back onto the bed, moving over her.
I lock eyes with her, our breathes panting. Our bodies grinding together. The fire flickers in her eyes, and her teeth drag over her lips.
“I—”
She shivers, clarity coming through the lust as our eyes lock.
“This is my first time,” she whispers.
“I know.”
My mouth lowers, my lips panting millimeters from hers.
“It’s mine, too.”
We lock eyes for a quarter second of paralyzed silence and understanding. Her eyes widen, searching mine, and then finding herself in them.
The moment explodes, and she moans as our mouths crush together.
27
A thousand questions explode through my head. Like how it’s possible a man as gorgeous and captivating and powerful as Konstantin has never done this before.
But that, and any questions I have, can wait.
I gasp into his mouth, shivering with heat as he presses me to the bed and slides between my legs. The way his body presses to mine—the way he holds me like I’m his? It’s like I belong to him, and like this was always something that was going to happen.
It just fits.
Because somewhere, through all the broken, re-wired connections in my head, I know it’s true. Maybe I’ve known for months, somewhere in the back of my scarred brain that it was always going to be the man who woke me up who’d have me.
He kisses me hungrily, punishingly; his lips so hard to mine they’re going to bruise me. But I want these bruises. I want the mark of him on me everywhere he touches me.
Like reminders, in case I forget. But something tells me I’ll never forget this.
I kiss him back just as hungrily, my body surging into him, wanting him. My legs wrap around him as his hand slides up to my throat, pushing me back onto the bed. He moves over me, pining me to it as he devours my mouth. His heavy cock drags over my pussy, making me whimper eagerly.
You’re supposed to be nervous your first time. You’re supposed to feel awkward, or afraid. That’s what all the movies say at least.
But I’m not nervous. I’m not scared.
I’m just ready for the one more way he’s going to wake me up.
His mouth slides down my jaw, biting and sucking as his hand stays there around my neck. It’s as if he’s got me riding this edge of danger and lust that’s like a drug to my veins. He moves lower, sucking over the slope of my breasts until his teeth drag across a nipple. I cry out, arching my back and wanting more.
He growls, sliding his mouth over me until he can capture the other nipple, biting it just enough to make me gasp again. Making me groan as pleasure and pain ignite in my core.
His mouth drops, sucking and licking down my stomach and my hips. His hand shoves my thighs wide, and suddenly, his tongue is dragging over my pussy. I moan, gasping, my head dropping back on the bed and my body writhing under his touch.
The cry falls from my mouth as his tongue parts my lips and drags through them. He circles my clit with the tip of it, making me shake until he suddenly sucks the aching button between his lips, hard.
“Oh God, Konstantin…”
His own reply is a low, rumbling growl that vibrates through my core. He groans deeper, devouring my pussy as his tongue plunges into me. He drags up to my clit again as his fingers push into me, curling deep to coax the pleasure from my body.
I start to tremble, shaking all over as my breath comes faster and haggard. My fingers stab into his hair, gripping him tightly to me as he fingers my g-spot with one hand, the other still reaching up between my breasts to wrap around my throat—not hard, but enough to give me this toe-curling feeling of restraint that’s driving me wild.
His tongue dances circles around my clit as he sucks it between his lips. Two of his fingers curl into me, stroking in and out as I drench his hand in my arousal. He lets another finger tease against my ass, and my world goes numb.
“I… Konstantin…”
He growls into my clit and sucks, and suddenly, it’s too much. With a scream of pleasure, my back arches off the bed. My hips grind into his face, all of me twisting and writhing in ecstasy as I explode under his tongue.
But Konstantin keeps me right there, riding that ragged edge with his tongue and fingers. I shudder, rocking into him over and over as his tongue keeps up its maddening circles around my clit.
Until suddenly, he pulls away with a low, deep, savage groan. He bites at my hipbones, making me shiver and gasp beneath him. He drags his tongue higher, up over my breasts until his mouth slams to mine again.
I kiss him deeply, tasting myself on him as his muscled body slides between my thighs. And suddenly, it’s like we’ve done this a million times. There’s no fumbling. No wondering what comes next.
We just fit together, effortlessly.
He slides up, capturing my jaw with his hand as his thick cock drags against my pussy. His eyes lock with mine, and I get lost in the swirling mercury of those grays. His hand starts to slide from my neck, but my own hand comes up, stopping him.
I keep my eyes locked with his, my face hot and my body trembling as I pull his hand back to my neck. I close his fingers around me, like they were before. His eyes flicker with silver fire as he nods.
This time, it’s my hands that slide down between us. I wrap my small fingers around his size, trembling as I stroke him against me. He’s so big, and for a second, I legitimately wonder how in the hell something that big is supposed to fit inside of me.
Only one way to know.
I bite my lip, looking into his eyes as I pull him against me. I spread my thighs a little more, easing his swollen head between my soft lips.
My breath catches. So does his. I nod, swallowing with a heated shiver. And slowly, Konstantin starts to push his hips.
“Oh God…”
I whimper, pleasure pulsing and throbbing through me as his thickness begins to slide in, opening me up. I choke on a gasp, my face caving. But his eyes hold me—keeping me there.
Sucking me in, until I’m drowning in him as much as he is in me.
His jaw clenches, and he groans deeply as he pushes into me. His cock sinks deeper, and he feels so fucking big, but I want more.
I need more.
His muscles flex as he drives in deeper. He’s going slow, but it’s relentless. He doesn’t stop or pull back, and I want it like this.
No backing out.
No going back.
Only forward.
Only awake.
I rake my nails over his hips, up his back. My ankles lock at the small of his back, above his sculpted ass. His hands tighten on me as he groans, shuddering with pleasure as he sinks even deeper.
And deeper.
Until the both of us are gasping for air as every inch of his thick cock drives to the hilt between my thighs.
We don’t pause or wait. We just start to move, like we’ve done this a hundred-thousand times before. His muscles flex and clench as he withdraws, insanely making my body miss him and crave more of him.
But just as quickly, he thrusts back in, snarling with a groan on his lips. I cry out, eyes rolling back as he drives into me. I bite down on my lip, melting in the pleasure of feeling so full, and so taken.
So completely possessed by him.
Our bodies grind together. Skin slick with sweat and gasps haggard with need. My nails dig into him, as his fingers bruise my skin. The drive of his big cock between my thighs grows stronger, harder. Faster.
His mouth falls to mine, swallowing my whimpers as he grunts into them. His shoulders flex and coil, his tongue dancing with mine as he pounds into me harder and faster still.
The heat in my core surges, throbbing into a ball of fire that threatens to engulf me. His teeth nip at my lip before his mouth drags down my jaw, to my ear.
“Mine,” he groans thickly, thrusting hard as if to drive his words home. “You’re mine, Mara.”
I cry out, my hips rising to rock into him. I can feel my body start to clench and ripple, and his cock swells—somehow—even harder, bigger inside of me.
“You were always going to be mine,” he hisses against my ear.
“I know.”
He pounds into me; claiming me, dominating me, ensnaring me.
And I let him. I beg him to. I urge him on with my lips and my body and my words. Until we’re grinding together, grasping at each other, and shuddering as we start to explode.
“Oh God… oh… oh… Konstantin!”
“Come,” he growls. “Come for me now. Always come for me, and only me.”
His mouth crushes to mine as his thick cock drives deep. My eyes roll back, the bomb explodes within me, and the firestorm incinerates us both.
I scream into his lips, coming so hard my entire body shakes and lurches off the bed. But he keeps me there, pinned down hard, thrusting into me as my orgasm engulfs me. Konstantin groans, and suddenly, I can feel him there with me; his cum spilling deep inside of me as he holds me tightly.
His lips don’t leave mine. My hands cling to him like he’s my lifeline.
And maybe he is. Maybe he’s more than the man who woke me up. He’s the one that’s still waking me up, leading me from the darkness.
It’s taken getting lost in him, to finally be found.
28
I won’t deny it. There’s a bounce in my step the next day. There’s a soreness to my step the next day too—after having slept with Konstantin four times last night. But it’s a good soreness.
A sweet ache.
A visceral reminder of the gasped moans, fevered touches, and demanding kisses.
From Konstantin’s bed, we moved to his bathroom, on the vanity beside his sink. Then again in the shower. Then a fourth time—slower, sapped almost entirely of our strength—in my bed.
This morning, he was gone. Not in my bed. Not downstairs. Just… gone.
I refused to feel the way I immediately wanted to feel. I refused to let myself go to those thoughts, or to words like “used” or “one night stand.”
And if last night was those things? Well, so be it, I told myself. If last night was Konstantin using me, then it was equally me using him.
Except then I saw the note taped to the coffee-machine.
I have work that’s going to involve me screaming at people over the phone. Didn’t want to wake you along with the dead.
Last night was everything.
Yours,
Konstantin
Very needless to say, I’ve been grinning and walking around like a dork all day.
At lunch, while I’m sitting with Lizbet and Tenley trying not to let the activities of last night play out on face, I get a text from him.
Don’t dress up tonight. Don’t dress in anything, actually. I want you sitting on the table, legs spread, in front of my chair when I come down. I’m eating you for dinner.
“Uh, are you okay?”
I startle, almost choking on my own tongue as I yank my eyes up to my sister.
“Hmm?”
She and Tenley glance at each other and then turn back to me. My sister frowns.
“You look like…” her brows knit. “I don’t even know what. You just look shocked.”
I smile as calmly as I can, my toes rapidly curling and uncurling under the table, my knee jumping as my thighs clench.
“Oh, nothing. I’m not sure what that was.”
She eyes me.
“Seriously, I was just glancing at a news thing.”
Mercifully, we’re interrupted by Julianna, gushing about the new book Bastian is writing.
Bullet: dodged.
But for the rest of the day, I’m tingling everywhere. I’m giddy, my pulse teasing under my skin, and my body aching for more of what we had last night.
As I’m leaving my last period of the day—an after-hours study session for my European Politics class— I bite my lip as the heat throbs in me. I’m trying to decide if I’m going to do exactly as he asked and be sitting there naked, or if I’ll keep my uniform skirt on. Maybe a pair of high heels?
I blush, sizzling in the heat of my own dirty little fantasies.
But then my phone rings, scattering those fantasies. I glare at it when I pull it out, not recognizing the number. But when I deny the call and put it away, my phone just starts to buzz again.
This time, I just answer it.
“Yes?”
“Ms. Belsky? Mara Belsky?”
I stiffen. Even before my accident, I was coached a lot about how to respond to strange numbers calling and trying to get me to admit who I was. A month after waking up, Lizbet caught me happily chatting away to a credit card sales call, freely giving away my name and current address before she hung up on them for me.
I’m not worried about this being a sales call, though. I’m worried that the man has a Russian-sounding accent.
“You have the wrong num—”
“Ms. Belsky, this is Detective Bagan, with the Odessa Police Department. I’m sorry to be calling so bluntly like this, and I’m sorry we’ve never met before.”
I tense, shivering as I stop cold on the path back to Lachlan House.
“I—I’m sorry, you’re who?”
He sighs heavily. “Sorry, I keep forgetting that you…” he clears his throat. “I’m the lead investigator in your case.”
My brow furrows. “My case—”
“The shooting and attempted murder, Mara.”
My chest tightens, and the back of my head suddenly stings sharp enough to suck my breath away. I stagger, blinking and numb before I sink onto a stone bench beside the pathway.
Attempted murder. I’ve never really thought of it that way. But, horribly, it’s accurate.
Someone tried to kill me. Probably because of who my father was. They killed four of the men whose jobs it was to protect me and wounded another. Some of those men maybe had families—children.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I—sorry,” I choke. “I just…”
He lets me breath, not rushing anything.
“I’m so sorry to just call you like this, Mara. It’s nothing bad, I assure you.”
“Do you know—”
“Unfortunately not why I’m calling,” he sighs quietly. “But, it’s ongoing. We’re trying, Mara.”
I just nod, shaking as my arms hug myself.
“I’m actually calling because we’ve been holding a few of your old possessions. And I thought, since you are awake now, you might like them.”
“What possessions?”
I haven’t ever once thought about the “stuff” I left behind when I dropped into a coma. When I went to sleep in Ukraine, and woke up four years later in London. The house Lizbet and I lived in back then has long since been sold.
“Just small things that were on your person that day, actually. A necklace, I believe. Earrings. A paperback of a Shakespeare play.”
“Romeo and Juliet,” I croak.
“Yes. A bit… uh, well, worse for wear. But if you’d like it—”
“I would.”
“I’m glad. There’s also your own phone, and that’s actually one of the reasons I’m calling. We were never able to look through your phone for any possible clues or evidence, since it was locked, and not even the CIA is able to crack the encryption on iPhones.”
He clears his throat.
“I’ve shipped your belongings to the school you’re attending, Oxford Hills.”
He sighs, almost like he’s smiling.
“I must admit, I was so happy to hear when you awoke, Mara. And I’m so glad you’re able to get a chance at a normal life.”
I nod, staring at the white gravel under my shoes.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Anyways, it’s being shipped by secure carrier, and it should be there soon. My one request is, when you do receive your things, would you kindly make a backup copy of your phone for us? I can give you a secure police email address to use. I hate to ask, and to disrupt your new life. I just wonder if there might be something we missed before on that phone.”
I nod, still numb, still shaking as little flashbacks of that day dagger into my head.
“Of course, Detective,” I say on autopilot.
He sighs again. “It is surreal to finally be talking to you, Mara. I’ve spent the last four years trying to find the monsters who did this to you, to bring them to justice.”
My mouth opens, then snaps shut. Then opens again, trembling.
“Do you… I mean, are there any leads?”
He’s silent for a second.
“You don’t have to shield me, Detective Bagan. I’m very much aware of who my father was, and the people he associated with. Or fought with.”
The detective clears his throat.
“There is… chatter. Some rumors of the attack being motivated by a disagreement between your father and a rival.”
“Antin Reznikov.”
“Yes,” he growls, his voice much harder now. “Yes, him.”
“But he’s dead.”
“The very day you woke up, actually,” he sighs. “How is that for irony?”
I decide not to voice that irony is not the man who woke me up also having his own father killed that same day.
“Anyway, I hope we can stay in touch, Mara. And please know, we won’t let this die. We will find the truth of that day.”
I nod, shaking.
“Thank you, Detective.”
“Welcome back to the world, Ms. Belsky.”
