The Bratva's Baby (Wicked Doms 1)

Do I?

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Maybe,” I hiss, closing my eyes against the painful blows. He continues the spanking, the only sound in the room the whoosh of his belt, the smack of leather, my quiet cries as the punishment continues.

“I notice everything about you,” he says between strokes. “I know when you wake and when you sleep. When you’re happy and when you’re sad. What delights you and what saddens you.”

Tears leak from my closed eyes as he continues my punishment.

“I’m disappointed in you, Sadie.” Another savage smack of the belt has me up on my toes. “You risked your safety by coming down here. But I knew this was where I’d find you.” His voice hardens. “And you walked right into the lair.”

The next lash is the hardest he’s ever given me. I’m splitting in two, shattering into pieces. My skin throbs and burns.

“Stop,” I whisper, begging. “Please, stop. It hurts. Please, Kazimir.”

A pause while he stands behind me. “Have you learned your lesson, then, young lady?”

“I have,” I wail. “Don’t leave. Don’t disobey. I get that,” I choke. “Have you?”

It’s a bold statement when I’m bent over being punished by him, but the words tumble from my mouth. I close my eyes, bracing myself for another blow from his belt, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I feel warmth surround me. He’s right behind me, his flank pressed against my scorched ass, caging me in against the sofa. I let the tears fall unchecked. There was a time when I questioned why he made me cry, but now I know it’s useless questioning.

“Have I what, krastoka?” he whispers in my ear. It’s the first time he’s called me krasotka since we took our vows, and for some reason it makes my chest warm. He’s spinning me around and pulling me to him. I’m drowning in his scent and heat, the feel of his arms about me almost worth the spanking I just took. My ass throbs, heated and aching, but he’s lit a fire within me. A deep throb between my legs. Aching, full breasts. Anticipated pleasure.

He hasn’t made me come since before we took our vows. My body hasn’t forgotten.

“Forget it,” I say, fearing further punishment if I continue my train of my thought. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Speak, Sadie,” he growls, fingers tangled in my hair. With a savage pull, he demands my attention. “Have I what?”

“Learned your lesson?” I manage to croak out. I brace myself for his response, but it surprises me when his eyes widen.

“My lesson,” he says, a trace of humor in those stern eyes. “And what might that be?”

I don’t respond because I’m not quite sure what it is.

I look away, but his fingers on my chin force my gaze to return to his. “Why did you come down here?” he asks. “Let’s start there. Did you want to make me afraid that I’d lost you?”

“Maybe, yes,” I whisper.

“Did you want to force me to pay attention to you?” he asks.

I hesitate before I answer, but what’s the point in hiding from him?

“Maybe, yes,” I repeat.

He’s so close now his breath makes my skin tingle and the pulsing heat between my legs intensifies. Lowering his mouth to my ear, he whispers a tortured, heated, “Sadie.”

“Yes?” I whisper back.

His breath against the shell of my ear makes me shiver in fear and longing. “Did you want me to punish you?”

“Yes,” I confess, before I lose my resolve. I close my eyes. The girl I was in America is gone. Here, with Kazimir, I’m someone else. It’s wrong, so wrong I can’t even reconcile it in my own mind, but I need him stern and angry and brooding. I long for his brutality. When I was alone and sheltered, I lived a dismal life cast in muted gray. With Kazimir, my world has become full, vivid color. It doesn’t make sense to me, but does it have to?

When his mouth meets mine, I sigh into him. I let myself go right off the cliff.

Freefall. He’ll catch me.

I taste the salt of my tears along with the soft but firm press of his lips on mine. Kingdoms could rise and fall in that moment, and it doesn’t matter, the world ceases to exist. All that matters now is him. Me. Us.

He asks for forgiveness and grants pardon with that kiss, forgiveness for his sins and pardon for mine. I keen with pleasure when he yanks my shirt up and palms my breast, a reminder that he owns this body. I whimper when the pad of his thumb grazes over my hardened nipple through the fabric of my bra. The clothes I wear feel cumbersome, so when he orders me to strip, I’m happy to oblige.

“Get them off,” he growls. The length of his cock presses up against my belly. My core aches to be filled with him.