Bratva's Brat (Loftry University Playthings 2)

Chapter 6

Chelsea

The house ismassive but doesn't really have anything to hold my attention. After forcing myself to choke down breakfast, I wandered the many halls, poking my head into any doors that were unlocked. For how aloof and secretive Master Grigori is, his house doesn't seem to hold any secrets. Though I'm bummed, I'm also slightly relieved. I don't need any more reasons for him to hate me. At least that's the only conclusion I can come to. Why else would he pull away after such an awesome morning?

As memories of him thrusting into me fill my brain, my clit tingles in awareness. Ugh. Not even at the university did I ever want sex this much. He must have an aphrodisiac pumping through the water. That's the only logical explanation for how horny I am. In the last twenty-four hours, I haven't even thought about Professor Richards. He's manipulating me somehow, but I can't figure it out.

Walking back to my room, I try to puzzle together the enigma that is Master Grigori. I can't tell what he's thinking at any given moment. He runs so hot and cold, I can't even mentally prepare myself for what he might want from me. With a sigh, I close the door behind me and stare at the mess. He's right, though. I'd never get away with leaving my room in such shambles, and I'm guessing none of his men double a maid. A giggle erupts from my throat as I picture some big, beefy guy wearing a maid's outfit, swishing a duster around.

No. In this testosterone-laden house, the more likely outcome would be that I would dress in the outfit and sashay around all the men, dusting them instead of the furniture. Right. As if Master Grigori would allow anyone else to use me like that. The angry stares he gave Ivan as he was punishing my ass didn't reveal everything, but it was enough to put in that niggle of an idea that maybe Master Grigori was the jealous, possessive type. He for sure didn't appreciate my act of submission.

I pick up the sheet and one of the pillows, depositing them on the bed before grabbing the rest. No sense in making the bed just yet, but that bathroom needs a lot of work. At least with most everything out on the floor, I can put it up in a way that makes sense to me. Spying the small mirror lying on the counter, I pick it up and bring it down to my pussy. The skin around the piercing looks a little red, but nothing looks too irritated or damaged. Not that I would ever admit this to Master Grigori, but I'd always fantasized about getting pierced down there. I was just too chicken to do it. Even if we ever part ways, I might still keep it. It looks sexy as hell, and damn, those orgasms this morning were just incredible.

My fingers start to drift down of their own accord, but I snatch them back, determined to listen to him, for this at least. I'd do anything not to have that shield there. Until Mr. Ivan took it off, I didn't realize just how it hampered my movement. There was a hesitation in my walk because I didn't want to disturb or jostle the overly large object down there. With it gone, I'm walking just like normal. The only difference is, it's so much easier to get aroused just by things like sitting and crossing my legs.

Forcing my mind away from my now-throbbing clit, I pull everything else out of the drawers and lay it on the table. Everything looks pretty standard, even if there are some things I probably would never use. Gathering the straightener and curling iron, I place those in a drawer off to the side. No sense having those in easy reach with other things would be more appropriate. One by one, I sort through all the items and put them up until the space is once again pristine. Walking out to the bedroom, I place all the pillows on the floor and remove the bottom sheet. Evidence of Master Grigori's late-night foray wasn't just on my body. Bits and pieces of dried semen litter the satin. Groaning, I pull it off the bed and wad it up before searching the room for an extra set.

In a tucked-away closet, there are sheets and a hamper. I'll have to ask Master Grigori if I do my own laundry or if someone else does it. Stuffing the soiled sheets down, I pull out a fresh pair and remake the bed. Seeing everything so neat and tidy gives me a sense of relief I didn't know I was missing. Laying down on the bed, I pull the comforter over me, snuggling deep inside the heavy fabric. So much of my life is changing at a pace I can't keep up with. It feels good to have things I can depend on. Once my schedule starts tomorrow, that will be one more thing to keep my head from having too much time to overthink.

Opening my phone, I stare at the time, watching each minute go by. I've got to do something else. Just laying here will make my brain go crazy. Forcing myself out of the cocoon, I head out the door, not even knowing where I should go. I shouldn't be surprised that I end up in front of Master Grigori's office. The door is closed this time, but I hear his rumblings through the wood. Resting my forehead against its cool surface, I stand there, my stomach in knots. What good would it do to bother him? The urge to see him rips through me. Somehow we got off on the wrong foot this morning, and I just don't understand. Sex was great. Incredible. Best I've ever had. He seemed to enjoy it too but then became so cold and distant...maybe I'm not as good at sex as I think I am. Maybe that's why I need these lessons.

"You snooper too!"

Whirling around, I find myself face to face with Mr. Ivan. His lips twist up in a scowl as he thunders across the floor. Fisting my hands by my side, I stand as high as I can, tilting my chin up as his bulk crowds me closer to the door.

"I wasn't snooping."

"You lie like dog."

"At least I don't smell like one."

The murderous glare he gives me makes me pause. I have no idea just how far Master Grigori's jealousy will extend. I lean against the door, putting as much space between Mr. Ivan and me, but he leans in closer, placing his hands on either side of my head before bending down.

"Yet you purr like koshechka when I yebu your tight ass."

My breath catches in my throat. The intense gleam in his eyes sends nauseating dread filling my gut. Instinctively I reach for my wrist. Fuck. He hasn't put a claiming band on me yet. Mr. Ivan inches even closer. Would he even stop if I begged him? Who knows what rules they play by. Since he's had me once, does that mean I'm fair game? A niggle of unease puts me on high alert. I thought Master Grigori was just looking for something for me to do when he told me about the self-defense classes. Now, I'm more than eager to take them.

Fisting my hands again, I buck up, attempting to be intimidating. He's not my dominant. He has no rights to my body. He stares me down, and I remain motionless. One movement could set him off. I keep my breathing slow and even, my eyes never leaving his. The stalemate is broken by a loud howl behind the door, startling both of us. The yips and growls are punctuated by the sound of claws scrabbling across the wood.

The ruckus keeps going for several moments until the door flings open. The door slams into my back, sending me hurtling into Mr. Ivan. Pain explodes up my spine, and I resist the urge to rub the sore muscles. Mr. Ivan's beefy fingers grasp my arm as I try to twist away from his bulk. He pulls my back flush up to his chest and holds me firm as Master Grigori stalks forward.

Sasha bounds in front of him, nudging my stomach with her head. She snuffles over me as if she's trying to make sure I'm okay. My heart melts a touch knowing that at least someone in this house cares for me. Master Grigori snaps his fingers several times, but Sasha ignores him, choosing instead to snuggle into me. With a sigh, he leans in and grabs her collar, pulling it back. Sasha whines and paws at me but eventually relents, looking over her shoulder as she trots over to her pillow.

"I'm assuming there's an explanation?"

Master Grigori's hands are gentler as he extricates me from Mr. Ivan's grasp. Once he pulls me away, I collapse against him, holding his arm in a vice grip.

"She snoop. I catch."

"I wasn't snooping!"

"Then why you outside door? Why head on wood?"

Master Grigori looks down at me, eyebrow raised. How do I explain what I don't know? I fumble for words as he stares down at me.

"I was trying to go for a walk. You know, buy some time before -." I pause for a moment, glancing at Mr. Ivan then back at Master Grigori. "Later. Somehow I just found my way here. I was working up the courage to knock when your lummox decided to confront me."

"Lie. You lie." Mr. Ivan spits out.

"That will be all, Ivan. I'll take it from here."

He casts one more frown my way before sulking down the hallway. Sighing, I relax my hold on Master Grigori.

"Did he hurt you?"

"...No."

"Why the hesitation? Did he lay his hands on you?"

"He frightened me. That's all. No crime in that, I suppose."

Master Grigori looks between Sasha and me. The dog is laying on her bed, long head resting on even longer paws. Her eyes flit between us for several moments before she gives a massive yawn and tucks her nose into her body.

"Sasha went on high alert. She doesn't normally do that. I want to make this very clear. No one in this household has permission to lay a finger on you except for me. I don't care that he scened with us; that's the last time he'll be allowed any part of your body without my express permission. Feel free to carry on like you're being murdered if you feel threatened again."

"This wouldn't have happened if you claimed me properly," I blurt out. Slapping my hand against my mouth, I watch as he turns around, lips quirked in a devilish smile.

"Oh. I'm guessing fucking your ass wasn't to your liking?"

"That's not what I mean. At the university, when a submissive is claimed, we get a special wristband or a collar. Something. That way those in the know, know they can't touch us."

He frowns as he sticks both hands in his pockets.

"A collar or band means nothing to a rapist. They won't protect you, Lastachka. I don't want you to depend on these things to keep you safe. But, if it helps your mental state, I'll see what I can do. "

Of course he’d be right. That still didn’t change the fact that I still feel naked and unowned. Fiddling once more with my wrists, I feel the weight of his gaze deep into my bones. Hazarding a glance, I see him staring at me, a stern frown tilting down his lips.

“Come.”

He doesn’t wait to see if I comply. Even after all the grief I’ve given him, he still trusts in the fact that I’ll blindly obey him. Sighing, I trudge behind, forcing myself to actually behave for once. I’ve fought him tooth and nail, and where did that get me? Pierced and aching. True, he rocked my world this morning, but who knows when that will happen again? Maybe if I act like I’m compliant, he’ll be more obliging.

Heading over to his desk, he points to a chair off to the side, near the two dogs. Sasha's perks her head up as I sit down, but the other just ignores me. He sets his long face down on the dog bed and huffs out, flapping his lips. I stifle my laugh at the display, not sure if Master Grigori would appreciate the distraction. Same doggo, same, I think in my head, forcing myself to get comfortable on the hardened chair. Every which way I turn, I'm made painfully aware of the piercing. Well, painfully might not be accurate. The initial shock and discomfort have lessened considerably. What I'm left with is all the sensation and none of the pain. Shifting about, I try to take pressure off of the area, but that only succeeds in me putting pressure on my tailbone.

"Are you going to squirm about all afternoon, Lastachka?"

Heat tinges my cheeks as I slink from the chair to sit cross-legged on the floor. His sigh rings in my ear as he looks over at me with a disapproving frown. I look between him and the floor, unsure of what unspoken rule I'm breaking this time. Knowing him, it's probably because a real lady doesn't sit on the floor or something. But then, in his eyes, am I really as refined as he wants me to be? As a submissive, wouldn't my place be here on the floor with the dogs?

"You're thinking too loud. I can hear the gears grinding in your brain. Is the chair not comfortable?"

"It's a tad hard, Master. My - well, you see - it's the - you know."

A sly grin crosses his lips. "No. I don't know. Why don't you spell it out for me."

Crossing my arms, I look over at Sasha, willing her to help me with my mind. The dog just looks at me, blinking once or twice before yawning again and flopping over to her side. Obviously, she'll be no more help to me today. I guess one rescue is enough for her.

"I'm waiting."

"It's the piercing. I'm just trying to get used to it."

"Ah. Is that all?" A slight sparkle of merriment shines from the depths of his eyes.

As seductive as he can be when he's being Domly and all Alpha, I almost prefer this look to him. It softens him a bit, makes him look a little younger, definitely less worn out.

"The floor is no place for a woman of your position. I will get you a seat cushion. Wait here."

Woman of my position? Since when do I have a position? Well, since when do I just have one position? Knowing Master Grigori, he'd have me every which way he can. Shaking my head, I lay a hand on Sasha's head, marveling at the soft, wavy fur. Even if nothing else, I know I have one friend here. Pulling myself off of the floor, I circle the room, fighting the feeling of boredom and claustrophobia. It's a big office, but being trapped behind the thick doors is doing something to my calm. A sound at his desk snaps me out of my musings. Unable to resist, I pad across the floor, keeping an ear out for any chance of him coming back.

The laptop lights up as messages bombard the screen. Most are in what I assume to be Russian; however, a smattering is in English. Peering down at the screen, I make out a few sentences that make my heart stop for a moment.

Got the shipment. Things went almost according to plan. Four kilos are missing. We think Jimmy helped himself on the trip. Do you want me to take care of it, or do you want to do the honors?

Stumbling back, I knock into the bookcase behind me, sending it wobbling. In my hurry to right everything, I knock some things askew on his desk, sending a tremor of fear through me. As I'm trying to put things back, heavy footsteps alert me to the ever-nearing presence of Master Grigori. Fear seizes my lungs as I fly across the room, settling back down near Sasha just as the door opens.

I bite my lip, willing my lungs to stop demanding so much air. He doesn't need to be any more suspicious of me than he already is. Frowning, he stares at me for a moment before walking the cushion over to the chair and extending his hand. I take it with no fuss, praying he doesn't notice the sweat beading at my forehead. If he sees anything amiss, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he lays the cushion down and lowers me onto it, easing my descent.

"Any woman of mine must have class and poise at all times. You are not to be sitting on the floor like a common dog. You're a submissive of mine, and it's high time you started acting like it."

The finality of his words grabs my heart in an icy grip. I'm not that type of woman. I don't do fancy. Hell, I was raised out in the country. There was nothing to do there except play in the mud and cow tip. Shaking my head, I force the memories out of my mind and instead fill my head with movies and books that deal with princesses or royalty. Obviously, he thinks so highly of himself that a little royal emulation wouldn't go amiss. Thinking back to the Princess Diaries, I slide my foot behind my ankle and sit ramrod with my hands in my lap. It feels so foreign. Nothing about me is prim or proper. Just because I put on airs doesn't mean I actually believe I'm anything special.

"What in the world is going through your head right now?"

I glance up at Master Grigori, refusing to scowl at the laughter dancing in his eyes. He wanted this, and now he's making fun of me for it. Fucking men. You can never please them no matter what you do.

"I'm thinking proper thoughts. Do you mind?"

"That's not what I meant. You don't have to be a primadonna, primping and prancing about. But, since you are attached to my name now, you do need to show some decorum and restraint. As pretty a picture as you are right now, you're not nearly fancy enough to sit like royalty. I just don't want you mucking about on the floor."

With a final smile, he turns to his desk and freezes. I pull into myself, making my body as small as possible. What will he say when he knows I was actually snooping? I didn't mean it; I just got distracted. He probably won't see it that way, though. Fuck. Can't I just go one day without punishment? He eases around and sits in his chair, his fingers drumming on the desk for a moment. Each tap sends a jolt of adrenaline spiking through my body. He looks all around his desk before spearing me with an intense stare.

"See anything interesting?"

"N-no, Master."

He leans back in his chair and threads his fingers together before looping them behind his head. The silence deafens as he stares at me.

"What do you do for your job?" I blurt out, unable to stand the empty air.

He sighs and sits back up in his chair, hands coming down to rest on the polished wood.

"You don't want to know, Lastachka."

Fuck. It must be very bad then. What could be the world’s worst job imaginable? Hit man? But what would that have to do with kilos? Pretty sure ammo isn't measured in kilos.

"I think I need to."

He stops, a smile tugging at his lips. "And what would you do with this information? Hmm? Would you somehow feel safer? I think not. Best to drop it now before you find out more than you want to know."

My stomach drops, leaving me queasy. It has to be mafia. What else could it be? DoesThe Society know? I scoff internally. Like they would actually care. Having the mafia in your back pocket is probably the smartest thing. Want something shady done? Call your friendly, neighborhood mafia dude. The curiosity burns like an itch just under the skin. For some insatiable reason, I need him to say it. I need to confirm the dark thoughts swirling about in my mind.

"Are -." I dart a glance around to make sure no one could listen in. "Are you mafia?"

He pauses once more and stares at the screen. Ugh. Why did I ask him? Stupid, stupid Chelsea. Now he's going to have to kill me. He swivels about in his chair before steepling his fingertips and resting his lips on them.

"I can tell you, sweetling, that I am not a member of the mafia." He sneers for a moment as if he's tasted something foul. "They don't have the same goals and drives as we do. Now, ask me any more questions about what I do, and I'll give you something else to think about."

As he turns back towards the screen, I can't stop my mouth from opening and spilling out the other questions burning in my brain.

"Are you a drug dealer then? Is that what kilos mean? Are you going to kill him?"

Master Grigori pushes away from the computer, chuckling as he stands, but there's no humor in it.

"Come here, Chelsea." His voice is hard and clipped as he says my name.

Stupidly, I feel worse about that than anything else. Some part of me, the hidden hopeless romantic, wanted my name to be sighed from his lips, full of passion, possibly even love. But no. Because I can't keep my damn mouth shut, he says it in anger. His open palm brooks no argument. I stare at the digits, forcing myself to remember the pleasure I received from them and not the impending pain he will possibly deliver. Sliding from the chair, I inch my way forward until I'm able to reach out and place my hand in his.

He jerks me closer, the movement so fast I don't have time to even brace myself. Pulling me in front of him, he sweeps the contents of his desk off and onto the floor, startling both of the dogs. They howl and bark for a moment until Master Grigori orders them to be quiet. With their eyes still on me, they slink down and watch as he rips my pants away from my body, revealing my ass to the cool air. They puddle about at my calves, keeping me caged. Goosebumps pebble my skin as he skims his palm along my flesh. I shiver at his touch, melting under the graze of his knuckles against me. All that's left in front of me is his laptop which he promptly closes before leaning me forward.

"Reach your hands out and grip the far end of the desk," he growls against my ear, shooting arousal through my body.

As I reach out, he grabs his laptop and places it on the far end of the desk, well out of range for any mischief. I stretch forward, my fingertips grazing the hard edge of the desk. I have to arch up on my tiptoes in order to get a good grasp. The wood cuts into my fingers, adding another bite of pain on top of the burn in my calves and hamstrings. I hold on tight despite the discomfort. Disobedience will be far more uncomfortable than what I'm experiencing now. I'm sure of it.

The first swat on my ass catches me completely off guard. I've been spanked before, but this position has everything tight, on display. Each blow feels worse than I think it should. It's like fire blazing across first one cheek, then the other. He alternates between cheeks, making sure no area goes untouched. My arms feel tight as I hold on, not daring to let go. The burn throbs from my fingers all the way to my shoulders. Biting my lower lip, I hold the whine at bay, not wanting to draw any extra attention to me.