Bratva's Brat (Loftry University Playthings 2) - Page 7

“Ahh, she begs beautifully too.”

He pulls out and draws his hand up, skimming over my tender flesh that’s aching with need. I buck my hips, ignoring the pain zipping up my spine, concentrating only on the pleasure flooding my body at his touch. Keeping his touches light, he circles his finger around my clit, drawing all my attention to that one spot. I hold my breath, pleas flowing through my brain. Mr. Ivan watches me with hooded eyes, his movements becoming jerky and erratic. He won’t hold out much longer.

Whining, I tilt my hips up, bumping against his touch, grinding against him. Fuck Mr. Ivan. Fuck this challenge. The need to orgasm overrides everything else. I feel it like a living thing winding through me, coiling through my body, demanding I give in to my desires. His touch hardens for a moment before he pulls away, leaving me aching and bereft.

Bewildered, I open my eyes, my gaze going straight to Mr. Ivan’s crotch. Cum drips down from in between his fingers, the white splotches splattered across the floor in thick lines. My heart plummets as Master Grigori starts to undo the belt at my wrists. Agony twists my insides as I draw my thighs together, hoping, praying that the friction alone will get me there.

“Please -.”

“Enough. You will do well to remember this lesson in the future. You are mine, Lastachka. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better. Everything you do is at my whim. Your pleasure is at my good graces. Now,” he slides a palm against my cheek, laying it there for what feels like an eternity. “Be a good girl, and maybe you’ll get off. Yes?”

“Da, Master,” I grind out.

His lips twitch for a moment before he coughs to cover a laugh.

“Da, Lastachka. Ivan, clean yourself up and meet us at the car.”

The giant grunts his assent before making his way over to the sink. I watch as he soaps himself up, his flagging erection still bobbing. I’m transfixed by the sight, arousal and dread swirling in a heady mixture: it makes my head swim for a moment. His enthusiastic response is all I needed to solidify my plans to use him to escape this monster. But would I be able to handle his monster?

Master Grigori brings a warm, wet cloth to my skin, wiping away my arousal and whatever fluids of his managed to escape. The fragrant heat soothes my skin, enhancing his kneading fingers as they dig into my sore muscles. Switching up, he brings a plain washcloth, turning his attention to my aching pussy. Each swipe of the cloth ramps up my arousal even further, driving the need deep into my core.

His breathy chuckles tell me he knows exactly the type of effect he’s having on me. Anger and despair fly up, barely contained by my gritted teeth as he continues his torment. Closing my eyes, I force my mind back to Professor Richards. If only I made better choices. If only I’d been a better submissive to him. Maybe it would be me being whisked off to God knows where instead of that bitch, Melody.

My fingers clench and release as anger fills my veins, burning me from the inside out. Master Grigori lays his hands against mine, stilling my movements. The way he grinds up against me fills me with relief. He must think I’m upset about not getting off. Good. I’ll let him think that. Better than revealing my true thoughts.

“It’s time we go home now.”

My gaze whips about the shower, looking for my robe. Frowning, I stare up at Master Grigori, the question burning on my tongue.

“You haven’t earned the right to wear clothes. You will walk out of this bathroom and let the entire Society see your shame.”

Apprehension gnaws at my gut. Professor Richards would never treat me like this. I look up in time to see Master Grigori’s eyes narrow. It’s like he can tell what I’m thinking. Curling into myself, I shy away from his intense gaze. It’s still there, though. Boring into me. I won’t ever be able to escape it.

My morose thoughts are interrupted by strong fingers curling around my bicep. The thick digits dig into my flesh, probably adding yet one more bruise to my body. Shaking my head, I force myself upright, letting the behemoth manhandle me a bit. Perhaps if I let Ivan rough me up now, he'll be easier to seduce later? Hopefully, my wiles will work on him. If they don't...I don't even let my brain finish that thought. It has to work. It just does.

Ivan drags me through the main area of the castle. Whispers and jeers meet my ears. Pain blossoms behind my breastbone as I stare down each of the submissives that dare to jab at me. I know what they're thinking. I know because I was once in their place. Not that I deserve any more or any less, but now I feel what it's like to be on the receiving end. Anger worms its way deep inside of me, burrowing into my will, my spirit. Let them laugh now. It will be me on top before too long.

A serene smile slides across my lips as I amble through the crowd. The heady scent of sex and violence teases my nostrils, enticing me to give in and just beg for release. But he would like that too much. Just the thought of giving him any satisfaction turns my stomach. No. I can hold out. That's never been a problem for me. I turn and glance over my shoulder, my body shuddering as I take in Master Grigori's frown, the statuesque set of his shoulders as he follows. Swallowing, I start running my statistic figures through my head. He shouldn't be able to wield his sexuality over me like this. No one should.

Eyes front, I force myself to concentrate on navigating the space. Ivan sure as hell isn't making it easy for me. He's barrelling forward without even so much as a glance to make sure I'm not about to trip. He just plows ahead like a dumb ox with his eyes on whatever the prize is. But that's good. I can deal with a dumb ox. I shift my gaze behind me once more. The calculating gleam in Master Grigori's eyes leaves me with no doubt that he is no ox. Unfortunately, that means that I can't manipulate him to my will. Not yet anyway. But he is a man. And all men want one of two things. No one has complained about my body thus far. Judging by the massive tent in his pants, he has no complaints either. Too bad I'll be long gone before he can slake his lusts again.

The butt plug feels heavy deep within me, reminding me of his cock with every step I take. My body twinges with each movement as if somehow he's already imprinted himself onto me. I need to get him out of my system and fast. This just won't do at all. Groaning, as all my muscles protest the rough movements being forced on it, I let Ivan pull me through the doors and out into the crisp air. My hair stands on end as the cold wind tears through me. Before I have a chance to start shivering, I'm thrust into the back of a limo, quickly followed by Master Grigori.

The heat of his body combined with the damp heat of the car makes my head swim. I lay down on the cool leather for a moment, watching his movements out of heavy-lidded eyes. He says nothing, does nothing. He doesn't even touch me as he moves past and occupies the opposite seat. Ivan doesn't ride with us. Instead, a door slam from the front of the car tells me he's up front with the driver. Crap. It's going to be just us two back here as we go to God knows where. I thought for sure I’d be allowed back to the dorms, but he wouldn’t force me into the back of a limo for that short of a drive. I guess I’m for sure going to have to go through with Operation Seduce Ox.

Closing my eyes, I force my breathing into a deep inhale and exhale, relaxing my throat so that it makes a soft rattling noise. Maybe if Master Grigori thinks I'm asleep, he'll leave me alone. Prickles of awareness run up and down my spine, threatening to reveal my facade. His dark chuckle confirms that I'm not fooling anyone; however, I'm too deep in now to reveal my hand. The limo takes off with a jerk, and my body slides down the seat until I'm forced to either stop myself from falling, and thus revealing the ruse, or actually take the fall.

Self-preservation wins out every single time. My muscles groan as I force myself to sit up, coming eye to eye with Master Grigori. His blue eyes twinkle as he watches me in thoughtful silence. It's nerve-wracking. As much as I don't want to talk to him, the silence is getting to me. If this goes on much longer, I'm liable to start blurting out any and everything in my brain. So much for holding out. Turning from his heated gaze, I stare out the window, watching the scenery wiz by. Nothing outside looks familiar. I never got the chance to explore outside the campus that much before being thrust into the university's underbelly.

The clicking of a zipper and the hiss of fabric is the only indication that he's moving. I glance over, out of the corner of my eyes, but keep my head focused on the window. Transfixed, I watch him ease the straps of his suspenders back down so he can slide his pressed pants down his powerful thighs. My mouth waters at the sight despite the yelling in my head. I shouldn't be attracted to him. I shouldn't. However, watching his fist glide up and down in lazy strokes does something funny to my insides.

"Kneel in front of me."

I turn to look at him for a moment, hesitating. His warm gaze turns glacial the longer I sit there. I know I'm playing with fire, but what's the worst he can do? Send me back? Unclaim me? He leans forward, staring at me a moment before gripping my chin in an iron grasp, wrenching my head so I can fully meet his ire. Anger snaps at me in unspoken words. It's a battle of wills, and he's convinced he's going to win. Tilting my chin as best as I can, I meet his eyes with full defiance. I brace myself for his wrath, but it never comes. Instead, we both just sit there looking at each other like petulant toddlers, each demanding they get their way.

"You shouldn't fight me so, Lastachka. It will only end badly for you."

"What's the worst you can do? Truly? Kill me? That would be a relief."

Something flashes in his eyes. Before I can discern it, he hauls me off of the seat and in front of him. My senses are assaulted by him - his smell, the sight of his body, the imagined taste of his skin. All of it collides as he buries my face in his crotch. His erection stands proud against my cheek. Every inhale fills my body with the musky scent of him, like he's imprinting himself into my body. Twisting back and forth proves futile in his iron grip. All it does is brush his heated flesh against my face.

His groan is decadent in my ears as he fists my hair and holds my head immobile against him. He throbs in wanton need against me, his lurid pulse sending blood pumping through me as if to answer with my own rush of arousal. I squeeze my knees together and rub my thighs against each other. The denied pleasure from earlier rushes back until I'm panting in need against him. Pulling my head back, he grips his shaft with one hand and raises an eyebrow. I know what he wants. He doesn't have to say it.

For once, I let my body dictate my course of action instead of letting my brain do all the work. As much as I detest oral, I crave the man even more – at least at this moment. Opening my mouth, I sigh as the head of his cock circles my lips. He pulls back, forcing me to chase after him. His soft laughter fills the limo, drowning out the roar of the car. The grip on my hair is steadfast. Try as I might, I can't pull forward enough to take him into my mouth. Instead, he only lets the tip touch me, just a whisper of flesh against flesh: enough to make me ache inside.

We continue this game for what feels like an eternity. A deep frown mars his face, the only testament to how hard he's working against his baser needs. Shame licks up my body, flushing me from head to toe. I know just how wet I am right now - too wet for someone I don't even like. His fingers loosen their grip, and I open wider, expecting my prize. Instead, he glances out the window and starts working his clothing back on. Confused, I sit back, making sure to keep my legs closed so he doesn't see the proof of my arousal.

Tags: Vivian Murdoch Loftry University Playthings Erotic
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