Bratva's Brat (Loftry University Playthings 2)

Gentle hands shakeme awake and blink up at Master Grigori, confusion muddling my brain. He's actually here? It wasn't a dream. Everything in me lets go as I stare up at him, running my fingers up and down his arm to prove to myself it's him. Tears stream down my face as my body convulses. Everything from that awful place comes rushing back. Frantic, I look about for Jane Doe, needing to know she's safe too - that it wasn't part of a dream either.

As if he understands my panic, he shushes me and draws me into his chest, where I breathe in his spicy, masculine scent.

"She's been put up into one of our guest rooms. Luke is with John. Everything is going to be okay. I wanted you to sleep as long as you could. It looked like you needed it. I wouldn't have woken you up but looked very uncomfortable, and no woman of mine will sleep out in a plane overnight.”

I sigh as relief pours into me. Everyone is safe. I’m still here on the plane with Master Grigori, but even that feels more real than what a drug-hazed dream would do. Why would it keep me on a plane when I have so many other memories much more comfortable than this. Then it hits me what he said. If I were really his, he wouldn’t have done this to me. He would have kept me safe like he promised.

"Woman of yours?"

"Are we going to have this out now?"

"I don't know. I guess I don't have any choices. I'm just a pawn to use as you see fit."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. I know I'm being disrespectful, but I don't give a shit. He gave me up to the wolves, and he's going to answer for it. Rage bubbles up beneath the surface, simmering just below my skin. Without thinking, I curl my fingers into a fist and punch him in the shoulder. It feels so good to feel my fist slamming into him, bleeding off just a touch of the fear and anger festering inside me. In fact, it feels so good, I do it again until both fists are just pummeling into his chest.

Tears freeflow down my face as I picture every man that touched me, every man that took advantage of me. They all coalesce into one - the man kneeling before me. Screaming, I punch him, not caring that he's taking every blow as if they were flies landing on him. He lets me pummel him, becoming the vessel in which to pour out my rage. He lets me use him as a punching bag but to a point.

Grabbing my wrists in his hands, he pulls me from the chair and slams me to the floor. Another man's face blurs the edges of Master Grigori, and panic settles in; it's the damned drug. It's not really him. I fight him even harder, trying to wake up from this never-ending nightmare. I knew it was too good to be true.

"Enough, Lastachka. You're safe. Settle!"

I can't. I'm far too deep into this panic cycle to let his words have any effect. The roof of the plane spins as my breathing comes in rapid, shallow breaths. White tinges my vision, threatening to pull me under. It's not until I feel a steady tapping on my ankle that my brain reconnects with my body.

"I am here, my swallow. I'm right here. No one will ever hurt you again."

"But you already did," I wail, the panic creeping back into my voice.

"I know. I know my dove. And I'll spend the rest of my life regretting every moment you were away. You are my life, Lastachka. I nearly died without you."

His words soothe me, as does his steady tapping. My heart attunes itself to the rhythm, slowing with each passing breath. He's here. He's really here. I repeat this refrain, digging my nails into my palms off and on to send spikes of pain into me. Nothing changes. Master Grigori doesn't disappear. Could it be that I'm actually safe? Nothing about this feels right. He's probably holding back because of what those men put me through. I thought I needed time, but I don't actually need that right now. Right now, I need him to prove to me that I'm his, that I'm never leaving his side again.

"Master, please," I whisper. "Please make me yours again. Please drive their memory out of my mind. Make me only think of you."

Before I can say another word, his mouth descends upon mine, his tongue forcing its way into me. Groaning, I open under his onslaught, welcoming his branding touch. His hands skim my body, pulling the crude sheets away to reveal me to his hungry gaze. Bending down, he skims his lips against every bruise, every scratch, reverently apologizing for every mark he failed to protect me from.

The small frisson of arousal grows as he worships me, but it's not enough. I need the hard master that belted me and took my ass. I need the man that could command my body with just a look. I punch him hard in the shoulder, eliciting a growl from him. Tingles shoot up and down my spine at that guttural sound.

"Is my little sparrow looking to get her wings clipped," he whispered into my ear.

I don't answer. Instead, I raise my hand to hit him again. He catches it with ease, using it to flip me over onto my stomach. I move like I'm going to get away, but his fingers dig into my side, pulling my ass back into the cradle of his hips. He's rock hard. Squirming, I rub across his erection, sighing at the decadent groan dripping from his lips. He shifts back enough to strike my ass, the burn sparking memories of us together. Writhing in his touch, I silently beg for another. He smacks the other cheek, then the other again - back and forth with a volley of swats.

Wetness gathers at the juncture of my thighs, filling me with a happiness I didn't think I'd know ever again. I thought I was broken, but here is Master Grigori, putting me back together one glancing blow at a time. He doesn't give me a chance to think or protest as his fingers invade my pussy. The one thing I dreaded, and he did it in such a way that it didn't remind me at all of the other men and their painful actions. Pure pleasure flows through me as he undulates his fingertips, stroking that spot deep within me as his other hand reaches around to rub my clit.

The first orgasm tears through me, leaving me in tears. White-hot pleasure rolls through my body as he keeps pumping, extending the sensations. Pulling away, he notches the head of his cock inside my channel before gripping my hips to keep me still.

"I love you, Chelsea Harmon. You have my word that I will never allow another man to touch you so long as I'm alive." He surges forward, filling me with his impossible girth.

I spasm around him as another orgasm flutters at the edge, just out of reach.

"You. Are. Mine."

Each word is punctuated with a thrust, driving me wild. Even in the drug-induced haze, it never felt like this. It was a shadow. How could I ever confuse the two? He rolls his hips as he drives forward, pushing all thoughts out of my head except the pleasure he's giving me. He said he loved me. Warmth explodes from my heart, filling my body. He wants me. Each new thrust feels like a declaration of that love - a reminder of who it is that holds me.

"Come for me, Lastachka. Come for your Master."

On a wail, I explode over his cock, my core squeezing and milking him until he joins me in orgasmic bliss. His cock jerks deep inside me, throbbing inside me. Panting, we both slide to the floor. Master Grigori twists us around until we're on our sides, with me nestled against his chest. Never has being the little spoon ever felt this good. He smooths the hair away from my face and plants small kisses against my temple.

Reaching over me, he pulls out a box from his pocket and hands it to me. With trembling fingers, I pry it open, staring down at the silver collar nestled in a sea of silk. He plucks it out of the box and moves my hair to the side to slip it around my neck. The weight is much heavier than the other one. It feels solid on me, like no one could ever take it from me. It makes me feel bound to him in a way I hadn't with the other one.

"This collar will never leave your neck unless I take it off of you, and I will only do so to put a different one on. You are mine, and everyone who sees you will know it."

Snuggling deep into his arms, I sigh, letting the warm feelings of love wash over me.

"I love you too, Master Grigori, but I still feel like you owe me something."

"Oh?" Amusement colors his tone. "I've given you my collar and two orgasms; what else could I be missing?"

"A pony."

"A pony? What makes you think I owe you a pony?"

"Well, I'm printsessa now. Don't printsessas have ponies?"

"Not all printsessas, Brat."

"Well, you did pee on me."

His laughter rumbles against my back as he pulls me into him.

"One pony, and I get to pee on you all I want."

I turn in his arms and pout. "I never agreed to that!"

"Good thing I make the rules then."

Smiling, he leans down and rubs the tip of his nose against mine. Tingles of a different sort flood my body, sending butterflies scattering throughout my stomach.

"Yes, Master."

THE END