Bratva's Brat (Loftry University Playthings 2) - Page 33

Grigori

Various emotions ricochet through my brain as I watch her panting on the table. I hadn't planned on letting her get off, but since I was using her in such a despicable way, I felt compelled to give her some pleasure. Guilt, a feeling I'm vastly unaccustomed to, slithers about in my chest as I stare at her soft smile, bliss just radiating from her body. Out of the corner of my eye, I keep a sharp eye on my uncle. The Cheshire grin he's sporting tells me everything I need to know. He's going to take her. Everything is going just as I planned. All I need to do is get her to the club and tell Ivan to stay away. He will do the rest.

Knifelike pain rips through my gut as I stare at her, so small and helpless on the table. I knew I was a monster, but the fact that I'm going to offer her up to wolves worse than me? What did that make me then? Am I now the king of monsters? Staring down at her glisten mound, I look at the piercing, the pain lessening the longer I look at it. I'm sending her prepared. It's not like they're going to take her, and I not know about it. It's not like I can't track them. Even going over the facts in my head, my heart doesn't want to comply. All I want to do is scoop her into my arms and lock her in my house forever.

Is this what love is? Fuck me. Love isn't going to save my cousin. Love isn't going to keep her safe. What use do I have of love if I can't even protect the one member of my family I swore I would? I resist the urge to slam my fist against the table in frustration - even worse, what I want to do to my uncle. Chelsea would never understand. She'd never believe me if I told her. Nothing could ever make up for the fact that I took her to be my sacrificial lamb.

When Jeremy asked me to take a submissive off of his hands, I never expected to fall for her, to want her so desperately. Over the last week, I've felt the shift in her. She looks at me with a soft longing. She looks at me with as close to love as I think she can get while still keeping her distance. If only I didn't get my damned heart involved, this wouldn't be so difficult. I should have taken her straight from the school, pierced her, and sent her on her way. I'd still follow her and track her. My deranged sense of honor wouldn't let me do otherwise. That and John would have my head - still might if he knew what was planned for my little Chelsea.

The rest of the men watch us, pulling out their phones to send off messages. It's done now; there's no way I can undo it. Heaving a sigh, I pull away from Chelsea and watch with feigned disinterest as other men take my place, snapping photos of what only I should be looking at. I clench my hands into fists, willing myself to lean against the wall. In meetings like this, it's typical to swap women, ogle another's, or even make deals under the table. I knew going in here that she would be desired and lusted after. Pleasuring her here in front of all these businessmen did nothing but whet their appetites.

For me to put up a fuss with them milling around, taking mental notes of her pussy for later, would alert my uncle that she was far more precious to me than some random submissive. I was already pushing it with demanding he respect the collar earlier. If he knew my real feelings, she could end up dead instead of just kidnapped. Though neither is a good outcome, her still having a chance at living is better than nothing.

Once they return to their seats, the meeting resumes, with dry commentary on uprising drug lords. Not news to me at all. I drown out their voices by focusing solely on Chelsea. My finger taps a steady rhythm, keeping her centered as we wind things up. Once all business has been attended to, one by one, they file out of the room until it's just Chelsea and I left. I make my way to the other side of the table, unhooking her with minimal effort. I give it a soft tug once it's undone, just to alert her to the change in tension.

As she brings her arms to her chest, I go back down near her feet. I stare down at her, committing her to memory. Those soft, tousled waves pop up in between her thighs as she spears me with a shy smile. Motioning to my ears, I nod to let her know it's okay to take them out. She pops them out and hands them to me, electricity sparking as her fingers brush over my skin.

"Did they enjoy the show?"

Placing a happy mask back on my face, I help her all the way, dragging her off the table and into my lap. "I didn't even notice. I couldn't bear being in a meeting this dull without my face in between your thighs."

Once secure on my lap, I work at the cuffs and toss them on the table with a loud clang. After I pocket the earbuds, I graze my knuckles across her cheek. The slight hint of blush on her cheeks is adorable as she ducks her head from my gaze. She fingers the torn edges of her dress, her smile turning down.

"It really was pretty."

Chuckling, I bring her to her feet, noting the new slit as it only comes up a little above her knees. "I'm sure no one will notice. They'll think it's a new fashion statement. And if they do notice, they won't say a word. Not with me by your side."

"But, I really liked it."

Sighing, I drag her out of the room and towards the dining hall. "Shall I buy you a dozen more just like it?"

Her eyes brighten as she nods, almost more enthusiastic about new dresses than she was about the orgasm I just gave her. Memo to me, buy her a new dress and fuck her on it before she can wear it. No doubt she'd complain about that too. Chuckling, I look down at her, warmth infusing my heart. I really am becoming a big softy. If this ever gets out, it will ruin my reputation for sure.

The dining hall is everything opulent, practically dripping with its splendor. It does nothing for me. I've been here during holidays where he couldn't even muster a tree, let alone glittering ice sculptures. No. This is all for show, pure and simple. He wants to make those under him jealous and strive for greater heights, and those equal or above him to never forget his splendor. It makes me ill to watch all the sycophants milling around, begging him for just a crumb of attention.

Since my father died, I rival him in power and influence; yet, you will never once see me preening like a peacock in front of peasants who wouldn't give two shits if you died tomorrow. My money and time are better spent elsewhere. Chelsea, on the other hand, is instantly sucked into the charade. Her eyes dart about, never landing on one thing for longer than a moment or two. I can admit it's overwhelming if you're not used to it, but she's near stunned.

After looking at a few things, she glances up at me, and I hate the questions in her eyes. She's probably comparing us, no doubt finding me lacking. God himself would be lacking against this wasteful display. Perhaps when we get home, I should bring her back to our training room and remind her that my money is better invested in making her scream my name in pleasure instead of gourmet food littered on top of designer tablecloths. If she'd rather have the fake opulence, I could certainly put in my bid to trade. She wouldn't like it, though. It's become like a drug to her.

"I'd like to invite you and your lovely submissive to my club tomorrow night."

My stomach clenches as something akin to panic fills my soul. Tomorrow night? That's far too soon. I was thinking a few weeks or so before she'd be summoned.

"I appreciate your offer, but we have plans tomorrow."

"I insist."

His voice drops down an octave, and from the corner of my eye, I watch as his bodyguards slide in closer, hands under their coat pockets. Most wouldn't notice it. There are far too many people for just a few to stand out, but I've been on edge since the moment we stepped into his house. Anything that could threaten Chelsea has been in my purview at all times. Nodding, I slide my arm around her waist, dragging her even closer to me, letting him walk off before finding our seats.

For her sake, I need to keep any discomfort off my face. She doesn't need to know what's about to happen. If tomorrow is going to be her last day with me, then I need to make it count. Pulling out her chair, I help her settle in before reaching down to grab the first set of utensils. Her eyes wander the spread, and I swear I can hear the gears clicking as she tries to remember which fork to grab. Sighing, she glances down at my hands before picking up the right one.

As a reward, I fork a small bit of salad and hold it up to her lips. Her eyes bore into mine as she opens slowly, easing out her tongue to taste the lettuce. My balls tighten as I watch her lower her mouth onto my fork, her movements smooth and precise. I've heard many fellow Dominants talk about feeding their submissives and the joy and power it brings, but until this moment, I never truly understood.

If we weren't at such an important dinner, being judged by everyone in there, I would have hauled her onto my lap and fed her the entire meal. If she fussed, I would have strapped her down and fed her that way. Either way, the visual is lovely. Going back to my meal, we eat in relative silence. Every now and then, some lower-level member asks me a question then goes on about their business.

While everyone else prepares to retire to the smoking room to keep the drinks and conversation going, I bow out, letting the men know in detail what I plan to do Chelsea when I get her home. Thank goodness I never insisted on her learning Russian. Her ears would be blazing otherwise.

As we ride home, I stare at her as she looks out the window. Every line on her body is languid as she reclines against the soft leather. The aching in my heart intensifies as she turns that soulful gaze to me, for just a brief moment, and flashes me with a dazzling smile. What am I doing? Am I really going to sacrifice the first submissive I've ever truly cared about for my cousin?

Closing my eyes, I conjure Anastacia's face. She was always such a happy child that grew up into a well-adjusted young woman. She had hopes and dreams. She had a life. In an instant, it was taken away from her. If she must suffer, then so will I. Chelsea may not be at fault in all of this, but she is the only one that has any hope in saving her. Sacrifices must be made, and Anastacia has sacrificed enough. Now, it's my turn.

As we walk up the stairs to my house, I swoop down, picking Chelsea up in my arms. Her squeals bounce around off of the stone work, filling the air. I race up the steps, keeping her clutched to my body. Bounding forward, I take her into her room and lay her on the bed, staring down at her as I ease off my jacket and toss it on the floor. There will be time to clean later. Right now, I want her in my arms. I want her final memory of us to be that of pure joy. I send off a prayer that she'll be okay, that I'll find her without any problems, but I do know the type of men I'm dealing with. Prayers or no prayers, these monsters will never back down. I have to face the fact that God may not save her in this instance.

I usually rip off her clothes, anxious to be buried in between her thighs, but this time, it’s all about her. I ease her up, leaning her against my chest as I slide the zipper down with agonizing slowness. With each section that unlatches, I skim my free hand down the exposed skin of her back, reveling in the softness. I lay her back down and peel the dress off, my gaze bouncing around to each new section of naked flesh until I’m able to slide it out from under her legs and toss it to the floor.

Next is her bra. I leave it hooked in the back for now as I ease one strap over one shoulder, kissing her skin as I follow it down, then repeating the processes with the other one. Her shivers of need claw at me, but I reign in my desire. I can’t turn back now; I must force myself to slow down for once. Reaching back behind her, I stare deep into her eyes as I unlatch the fabric and pull it off of her so it too can join the pile

Instead of our usual clashing of bodies, I ease down in between her legs, kissing the valley of her breasts before sliding my lips across her smooth stomach. Her fingers clench in my hair as I tease her opening, letting my tongue drift through her soft folds until she's squirming with need beneath me. Her skin is like fire against mine as I hold her close, inching my cock forward in agonizing increments.

Every time she arches up to draw me in deeper, I pull back and start the process all over again. Stubborn minx that she is, it takes several tries before she lies still and lets me pleasure her. One day she might trust me enough to let everything go, but that's hope for the future. Keeping those thoughts in my brain, the idea that she will be coming back home to me, I dip back in, feeling her ripple about me. Groaning, I dip down and grab her nipple with my teeth, not pressing hard enough to hurt her, but enough to make her rise up and writhe beneath me.

Time is of no consequence as I pour myself into her body. I skim my fingers along every bit of flesh I can get to. I bury my face in her neck and inhale her scent. Sliding my palms underneath her ass, I grip her skin, drawing her even deeper into me. Her orgasm gently breaks over her on a sigh, her eyelashes fluttering as her body spasms around me. She's never been more beautiful to me as in this moment. I soon follow, kissing her as I moan into her mouth, letting her hear, feel, and taste what she does to me.

We lay there intertwined for an eternity. Rolling over, I lay her head on my chest, smoothing my hand over her hair as my heartbeat eventually lulls her into a deep sleep. Padding over to the bathroom, I dampen a washcloth and hurry to wipe her down. As much as I want my cum in her and on her, I want her to have no regrets when she wakes up. For the first time since we've been together, I want her to have nothing but good memories of us. Reaching over for my pants, I fish the Allen wrench out of the pocket and work on her collar. Something this ornate would never feel comfortable while she's sleeping. The plain collar I have for her is much better suited for all-day wear.

It takes several moments of painstaking movements to unscrew it without waking her up. Once undone, I still have to ease it out from around her neck. With each deep breath she takes, I slide it another inch until it comes free. Pulling open her drawer, I lay it inside, determined to remember to get her a special box to keep it in when she's not wearing it. The generic shipping container just won't do. She deserves her collar to sit on silks in an ornate leather box. That would be more fitting for my printsessa.

The stuffed bird I bought her rests on the floor, alone and unloved. I pick it up and place it near an outstretched arm, smiling when she pulls herself around it and snuggles in while still sleeping. Pulling my clothes back on, I walk over to the door so I can start making plans with Ivan. If I want any hope of getting her back, we need to be well prepared. As I ease the door open, I look down, seeing a lump of fluff lying on the floor. Sasha lifts her head up from the fur puddle, large eyes boring into me. It's like she knows what I'm planning and is judging me hard for it. Little does she know, there's no way she could ever judge me more than I judge myself.

She picks herself up and sits, glancing between me and Chelsea's bed, a soft whine huffing through her muzzle. Rolling my eyes, I open the door wider, letting her squeeze into the room. In a graceful bound, she jumps up on the bed, circles a few times, and lies down next to Chelsea, head butted up against her back. Shaking my head, I remind myself to check the feeds at some point to see if this is where Sasha's been disappearing to at night.

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Tags: Vivian Murdoch Loftry University Playthings Erotic
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