The Bratva's Captive (Wicked Doms 3) - Page 56

I chide myself for not realizing how firm my grip was on her. I don't release her but soften my grip and note the reddened marks on her arm. Christ. I need to check myself.

"Like I'm going to run," she says through gritted teeth. "For God's sake."

"Be quiet," I say to her. "If you speak again, I'll punish you right here, for all to see."

When she blinks, a tear rolls down her cheek. I harden myself to sympathy. I will not cave. I will not.

"Your room is ready, Maksym," Demyan says. "We'll talk later."

"I want a meeting with everyone this afternoon. After we've gotten cleaned up and rested." I want to look into their eyes. I want to find the one who betrayed us.

"Done," Demyan says.

I punch the button on the elevator that takes me to the top floor. When the elevator opens, I yank Olena inside. The doors glide shut and we're temporarily alone. My mind is a series of furious thoughts as we ascend. I want to hurt someone. If anyone tried to attack us right now, I could tear them apart with my bare hands. I'm so consumed with rage; I barely notice the girl beside me until I hear a furious little huff. I look at her in surprise and note her undisguised hatred in her gaze.

"Behave yourself," I admonish. "So soon you forget how easily I can punish you?"

She says nothing in response when the doors to the elevator open on our floor. I grab her arm and pull her off the elevator. As we walk, our anger kindles like embers in a fire, snapping and glowing between us. I want to get her alone so I can fuck this defiance out of her. Until I remind her who her master is.

I finally reach my door and swipe my finger across it to open it, yank it open, and practically shove her in. I want to fuck her until her mouth parts in ecstasy and my demons retreat. Until the raging fury within me abates and I can focus on what lies ahead of me. Christ, I want long, slow, languid mornings with her and passionate nights. I want to eat meals with her and take walks. I want to discover the intricacies of her mind and heart and cherish those moments. I want to claim her mouth and body, with pain and pleasure. I want to worship every perfect inch of her. I want to punish her, to teach her to obey, to fully unleash the sadist in me erotically attracted to marring her perfect body, the part of me that longs to hear her cry then make it better. I want to tangle my fingers in her hair and claim her sweet perfection while I bring her to the edge of utter bliss.

When the door clangs shut, I spin around and press her against the door, my hand on her throat.

"Do not move." I gently flex my fingers on her throat. "You stay right here. I'm in the mood to punish you, Olena. It won't take much to push me to do so."

She's as furious as an angry little kitten, practically spitting in her rage, but when I release her, she doesn't move.

I comb the entire apartment for signs of something, any kind of bug, but I find nothing. I don't even care if I do find something, though. Who I am, who I've got with me, it's all going to be known to my brotherhood. And if one of my brothers has betrayed me like I suspect, it doesn't matter what they know. It matters who they are, so I can destroy them.

Once I've found we're alone, I take a moment to breathe in the clean, fresh air. Demyan's had the place prepared. Fresh flowers sit on the small, square dining room table. Lines are still visible on the carpet where they vacuumed, and the invigorating scent of cleansers they used still lingers in the air.

My bookshelf that houses my favorite books lays untouched. In the main area lies a large, comfortable leather sofa, a coffee table, my bookshelf, and an overstuffed chair. There's a bedroom with a king-sized bed and end tables, and an opulent, well-furnished bathroom to the side.

We have clean clothes, toiletries, and food here. After my inspection of the apartment, I take out the phone Demyan gave me and shoot him a message before I turn back to Olena. I'm pleased to see though she still glares at me, she's not moved at all. She still stands against the door, her little frame held in place where I pinned her. Her curly hair hangs about her crazily, lending her an air of wild beauty. She's fucking beautiful.

I wonder if she still feels my marks on her. The spanking she took the night before. Our lovemaking.

Tags: Jane Henry Wicked Doms Erotic
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