Where are you?
I don’t exactly hold out hope for a response, as she’s been viciously stubborn about not replying to me over text. Perhaps I need to get tougher with her. I send her the photo I snapped while she sucked my cock in the alleyway, along with a message.
Don’t forget who owns you.
An angry emoji pop through, followed by the words.
My room.
Fuck.
Get your ass out of your room and meet me in the gym. Five minutes, or I’ll send this photo to everyone.
It’s a bluff, as I have no intention of anyone ever seeing it except for me. The photo was taken on a spur of the moment, for my own pleasure.
I hate you.
I smirk at that and head toward the gym, hoping it’s empty. There’s no scheduled classes tonight, so it should be. Once I get there, it is empty, so I sit on the stand and wait.
Natalya takes exactly five minutes. When she waltzes into the gym, I feel my cock harden and my heart rate speed up. She’s wearing a revealing top that plunges downward, showing off a tantalizing amount of cleavage. Her hair is messily pushed up in a bun, but somehow looks sinful. And she’s wearing a pair of tight leggings that cling to her every curve. My mouth waters at the sight of her.
“What do you want?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. A move that pushes her beautiful, firm breasts together more.
“I’ve heard a rumor that I hope isn’t true.”
She tilts her head slightly, waiting for me to elaborate. When I don’t say anything, she huffs in irritation. “What rumor?”
“That your brother has agreed to marry you off.”
Her brow furrows. “That can’t be true. Who told you that?”
“A reliable source,” I say, standing up and walking down to her on the main court. “But how can you belong to me, if you are promised to someone else?”
Natalya shakes her head. “Mikhail isn’t marrying me off. I’m supposed to lead the bratva.”
I laugh at that, as she is naïve if she believes a woman can lead the bratva alone. There are female leaders in the Cartel and the Italian mob. Hell, even a few in the Irish organizations. But for Russians, it’s unheard of. “You can’t truly believe the men of the bratva would follow you? A single woman?”
Her shoulders sag slightly, as if I’ve hit on something that’s been bothering her. “I don’t know,” she says, suddenly looking like a broken little girl who has had her dreams shattered.
I hate the way my chest aches at the sight.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Natalya Gurin doesn’t deserve my pity.
“Come here,” I say, surprising myself with the gentleness in my tone. It was supposed to sound commanding, but I fear stepping over the line from pure hatred to desire has changed the dynamic between us.
She doesn’t put up a fight, walking over to me and stopping just one yard away. Her eyes meet mine, defiant still, but a little broken. I grab her hips and pull her closer, making her gasp.
“Over winter break, you will verify the truth of these rumors. Do you understand?”
Natalya nods.
“And if I find out they’re true, then things are going to get ugly, bonita.” I tease my lips over hers softly, making her shudder. “You belong to me. No one else. Until I let you go, you are mine.” I kiss her then, my lips searing to hers with all the passion, hatred, and rage that bubbles away inside of me. It’s twisted into something unrecognizable as I thrust my tongue into her mouth, devouring her as if my life depends on it.
Natalya moans, clawing at my neck as she deepens the kiss too. My little pet is starting to learn that giving in is easier and more pleasurable than fighting. My cock swells as I have every intention of plowing into her tomorrow night, taking her innocence and embedding myself in her soul forever.
I slide a hand into her leggings and cup her pussy, groaning when I feel how wet she is. “So eager and ready, and a day early,” I breathe, pushing her panties aside and dipping my fingers inside of her. “I bet you haven’t been able to stop thinking about what I’m going to do to you tomorrow night for the past two weeks, have you?”