The Bratva's Baby (Wicked Doms 1)

Panting, he leans down and brushes his lips to my ear. “You’re mine,” he says. “I will wipe you clean but you’ll know your skin bears my mark. No matter what happens tonight, you will know this, Sadie.”

He’s gone. I shiver at the loss. I want him here. I want him in me. I want his heat and his presence.

I hate that I do.Chapter FifteenKazimirI clean her off with a washcloth and give her a moment to recover, but only a moment. I own her orgasms, and today, I’m greedy.

What she doesn’t know is that tonight, Dimitri’s filling the great hall with guests from all over the country. He’s planned this for months. Fucking months. Politicians and military leaders, the richest men in our country, law enforcement, and every member of our group will be here to witness her take her vows, and she’s not ready.

Hell, I’m not ready.

So before that happens, I’ll bring her every pleasure I can to train her heart toward mine. It’s a plan of desperation and hope. Sadie has an unbreakable will, an indomitable spirit that can’t be crushed. With a mind filled with romance, she’s learned to expect that marriage is born of love, and any fool can see we don’t love each other. How could we? We don’t even know each other.

But love is a foolish notion for the weakest minds. Any true leader knows that empires aren’t built on love, but power. And often, destruction.

I set out to break her, but in so doing have realized she has so much more to offer me than blind obedience.

We have so much before us. So very much before us.

I clean her with a thick, ivory washcloth, and dry her skin, but give her hardly any time to recover before I lie beside her on the bed and ease her again to orgasm by fingering her. She doesn’t resist this time but rolls into me, and climaxes quickly and hard. After she’s come down from her third orgasm, I reach for the bedside table and remove a little dildo I purchased for her training, and a small set of clamps.

“Kazimir,” she whispers, her voice slurred and eyes half-lidded. “Have you drugged me?”

“On pleasure, krasotka,” I tell her. What she doesn’t know is that I’m begging forgiveness for the crimes I’ve yet to commit.

I watch her eyes widen when I take the rubber-tipped clamps in hand.

“What are those?” she asks, tipping her head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Hush, Sadie.”

I fasten the first clamp to one nipple. Her back arches and she cries out, but her wrists are fastened and she can’t stop me. I fasten the second one, and give the chain between them a gentle tug.

“Oh,” she moans. “Ow!” But her protests fade to moans when I slide the dildo in place. I work her closer and closer to orgasm, and just when she’s on the cusp, I unfasten the clamps. Blood rushes to the abused flesh as she screams with pleasure, and I suckle her nipples one at a time between my lips and let her explode into pleasure.

“Oh God,” she pants, her head falling to the side. “I’m exhausted.”

“Yes,” I say. “You’ll get some rest now, but only for a short while.” Covering her with a throw blanket, I make some calls and give her a short rest. I watch as she drifts to sleep, then a quarter of an hour later, wake her with my mouth between her thighs.

Her eyes fly open and she yanks at the cuffs around her wrists, but it’s useless. She can’t get away. I suckle her sweet, wet clit and lap her tender folds until she groans and writhes with her fifth release. Fingering her channel while she comes, I imagine the tight walls of her pussy milking my cock. Soon.

We go on like this for hours, until my own body is fatigued from having brought her to climax again and again. I’ll buy her a Sybian, soon, and sate her in other ways, but for now, I want to claim her orgasms with my tongue, my fingers, anything that will bring her flesh in contact with mine.

“I… didn’t know…” she gasps. “The human body could be wrung with that much pleasure.” Her eyes are closed but a small smile plays at her lips.

“The human body is capable of enduring a lot more than one might think,” I tell her. I let the words hang in the air between us, but she doesn’t respond. She’s too tired. A little sleep will likely prepare her for the evening ahead, and having been brought to the brink of pleasure so many times will likely help her keep her place tonight.

Maybe. She might need to be forced. She might even try to run. My stomach clenches at the thought of the punishment that awaits her if she runs. I hate the idea of forcing her to do what lies ahead of us.