Claimed Bratva Virgin (Yezhov Bratva #4)

Chapter 18 – Leonora

Rafayel didn’t say a word to me throughout the ride to his house.

Quietly, but with a brooding rage hanging over him, he dismissed his men patrolling indoors and asked one of the maids, Varya, to prepare dinner and take the rest of the weekend off. She had salt-and-pepper hair and wide, knowing eyes. I felt small under her curious scrutiny but had no opportunity for small talk.

Rafayel and I ascended to his study.

I sat on the chair across his polished desk, intentionally avoiding the leather couch and the memories that came with it.

He received a phone call, and from the one-sided conversation about taking a car to the shed, I knew it was Tikhon. Rafayel had him retrieve my car because he insisted—scratch that. He ordered that I ride in his.

When the call line went dead, he dropped the phone and faced me with a dead look in his eyes. I’d never seen a man so rigid and uptight.

“You’ll be staying here in my home until I resolve the situation with your father. I don’t want you or my child near any of those darn Italians. They’re unpredictable, and that’s one risk I’m not taking.”

Those darn Italians ? And did he mention staying in his home, like I was, what, a coward on the run?

“Uh, excuse me, Almighty. I don’t mean to throw you off your high horse, but look at me.” I glared, so he got the point. “I am one of those darn Italians .”

Rafayel scrunched his nose as if he were eating sour grapes. “No need to remind me.”

My heart squeezed painfully as I watched his fists clench and unclench on the top of the desk. I couldn’t make sense of the knot tightening in my chest. His anger shouldn’t have mattered to me, the way his exterior morphed into an impenetrable wall because of the weight of the betrayal. It shouldn’t have meant anything.

But it did.

There was something about the way he looked at me, his dark eyes filled with hurt that cut deeper than his words ever could. I hated it. Hated the way guilt settled heavy in my stomach, clawing at my resolve.

I shouldn’t have cared. He was the enemy. His pain was deserved, wasn’t it? Yet I found myself wishing—deep down in the parts of me I tried to ignore—that Papa hadn’t done this. That I hadn’t hurt him.

“Listen to me.” I was willing to try a softer approach, “I cannot stay here.”

A perfectly carved brow hung up on his forehead. “Did I ask you if you can or cannot stay?”

I massaged my temple. He was making it too fucking hard to stay nice. “Rafayel….”

“To make it clear, Leonora, there is no room for your opinion. I know you’re used to having things always go your way, the brat that you are. But not here. Here, you will do as I fucking say. And I say you’re listening only to my fucking orders from now on.”

And that was exactly what I feared, that his need to dominate and protect us was going to cost me a great deal. Gritting my teeth, I rose from the seat and marched up to his looming figure brooding by the bookshelf.

“I appreciate your compliments and endearment, asshole. But I have a fucking empire to run. My papa might have played the role of a conniving villain, but that doesn’t make you some sort of saint. You’re not any better, Mr. Yezhov. And I’m not abandoning my people just because you ordered it.”

“Is that so?” Dark, dangerous eyes challenged me, and I carefully selected my words before speaking.

“It is.”

“Then, I dare you,” he sidestepped, glancing at the door over his shoulder, “to walk out that door.”

He gave a dry smile, and when I noticed how close we stood, suddenly, a ferocious heat crackled in the air, thick and oppressive, wrapping around me like a vice.

“You won’t obey me, am I right? You refuse to subject your fucking pride and surrender, am I right, Leo? Then walk out that fucking door before I do something we’ll probably regret.”

Every nerve in my body fired in unison, warning me, urging me to step back, to create distance. To seize this moment and run out that door without looking back.

But I couldn’t. My legs refused to move. He loomed too close, and his presence overwhelmed me.

Suffocating and inescapable .

I barely had time to process it when he spun me, and suddenly, my back pressed against the tough wood of the bookshelf. The sharp edge bit into my skin through my thin silk shirt, but it didn’t matter. All I could focus on was him, his body crowding mine, his musk scent intoxicating, his heat searing into me like a brand.

He growled against my throat like a wild predator. “You’re not running.”

I shook my head, barely able to speak. God, his breath felt so warm. And he felt so good. Quick warmth pooled between my thighs

“No, I’m not. I’m not a coward, asshole.”

“But you’re a fucking brat.” He trailed hot, wet kisses down my throat, to the dip of my collarbone, and back up again.

I quivered, ridiculously saying, “Yes, I’m a fucking brat.”

“ My fucking brat,” he corrected. “ Mine , Leonya.”

Jesus.

My pulse thundered in my ears, my breath hitching as his hand braced above my head, his other settling beside my waist.

He murmured, “In this instant, is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

God, the more he spoke, the more my skin sang. I wasn’t processing any reasonable thing. I couldn’t. I was trapped, completely at his mercy. Worse, I didn’t want to break free. Being with him like this was a nightmare I was willing to welcome with open arms—like comfort food for the soul.

“I don’t know,” I sighed against his hair. “You tell me, is it a good thing or a bad thing?”

My heart slammed against my rib cage, every inch of me hyperaware of the charged energy crackling between us. Like a storm, chaotic and consuming, pulling me under its weight.

He nipped at my neck, sucking the tender skin roughly enough to leave a mark. My eyes rolled behind my head, my knees buckled, turning to Jell-O under the pressure, and I arched my head back to give him more access.

“Is it a good thing or a bad thing, Rafa?”

“Fuck!”

The space between us vanished as his chest brushed mine, and my skin ignited. Beneath my clothes, my nipples peaked, aching for him, and the warmth between my legs grew extremely uncomfortable.

I’d done it again—called him exactly by the name he wanted to hear.

He pressed against me, the hard bulge between his legs digging deeper between mine, and the tension brewing between us grew into a firestorm, building to an explosion I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop. I wanted this man badly and unashamedly.

And then, just like that, the world narrowed to him and the wild, reckless sensation of falling into something I couldn’t control. Something I didn’t want to.

Rafayel dragged his lips from my throat and planted them on mine. I groaned into his mouth, and he growled back.

He was rough, hard, and unforgiving. He took with more speed than I could match, cupping my jaw to keep my head in place while he sucked and grazed my lips like the greedy bastard he was.

I felt heady and light. I needed air, oxygen. But I couldn’t summon the courage to break free from him. Maybe because I didn’t want to.

His hand skimmed down my face, latching onto the buttons on my shirt. In one grip, he tugged, and the tiny buttons went springing apart, dropping to the floor like pebbles on tiles.

Ripping off the destroyed shirt, he snaked his hand around my back to unclip my lacy bra and tossed it aside. My breasts bounced free, and I arched into his palm when he grabbed one mound, kneading my soft flesh.

“ Leonya….”

He brought his face down to my chest, sniffing hard, before taking one nipple into his hot mouth. And I could have burst into tears just because of how terribly good he felt.

God, what was wrong with me?

I arched into him, moaning like an uncontrollable animal in heat when he took a nipple between his teeth, pulled, and sucked hard like a maniac.

“Do you like it?”

I wanted to say no, but my mouth seemed to be having thoughts of its own. “Yes. Yes—God, I do.”

He gave both breasts attention, moving from one to the other with equal concentration. And I felt the push driving me closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. But I wasn’t going to fall until I had him buried deep inside of me. Until I had him right where I thought he belonged.

When he moved his lips back to mine, I thought I was spent. Until he dragged down the zipper of my jeans, dropping to his haunches to help me peel them off.

I kicked off the denim, but Rafayel didn’t get up.

My eyes grew a fraction wider when I realized what he was doing. Before I could pull him back up, he was kissing his way up, biting the spot between my thighs to make me spread my legs, and when I did, he threw one of my legs over his shoulder to support me and allowed his mouth to linger just below my thong. It was thin enough, barely covering my essentials.

So, when his smiling eyes met mine, I knew what he saw—how soaking wet my pussy was. For him.

He slipped a finger to move the thin rope aside, and his mouth instantly went in for the kill.

My head flew back against the bookshelf, and my eyes rolled.

Holy shit.

This man and his tongue. There was no doubt now that he knew how to use it. I slid my fingers into his hair, rolling my hips and making all sorts of funny, embarrassing noises while he ate me out and lapped up my juices.

From my view, the only thing I could see was the satisfaction on his face, with his eyes closed and his head bobbing up and down.

My chest flared with more heat. Who would have thought I’d find a view like that so unbearably hot?

I swear I tried to hold on. I tried so hard not to fall off the cliff, but I hit my climax anyway, shattering over his mouth in less than five minutes.

Rafayel pulled back with his lips still wet with my juices and rose to his feet. With his eyes never leaving mine, he moved his hand to the rope holding his sweatpants together. But I reached forward, stopping him.

I wanted to do this. And thankfully, he didn’t stop me.

Tentatively, I released the ropes and slowly pushed the downy material and his boxer briefs lower, below his hips. My mouth watered when his cock sprang out, and the pulse between my legs throbbed with more intensity.

Rafayel was staring at me with an unreadable emotion, and even that was so frigging hot. He leaned forward, brushing my hair away from my face, as he hoisted my other leg from the ground so I straddled his waist.

He kissed me cautiously. Then softly. And I kissed him back, snaking my fingers into his hair—because I loved the feel of his hair between my fingers.

Knowing how hard he was for me, despite everything, made me want to apologize with his cock in my mouth, or better still, inside me. I wanted to do things to him that scared me. And this crash of emotions flew out of my mouth in three simple words.

“I hate you.”

Growling, he murmured something intelligible against my lips and sunk his cock into me. “I hate you, too.”

I gasped, raising my hips and spreading my legs wider to accommodate the size of him. My body hummed for more. My heart soared. It felt liberating. Did I mention that he felt so good? If yes, then I didn’t think I’d said it enough.

“You annoy the hell out of me.”

“I know. I like seeing you all hot and bothered,” he said in Russian.

When I opened my eyes, he was looking at me with his lips curved to the side. He knew. The bastard! All this time, he knew I understood him. I didn’t know when he’d found out, but…that was beside the point.

Rafayel didn’t give me any time to react. He wedged his cock like a weapon and slammed into me with more force than I ever thought I could handle.

My fingernails dug into his back. And he fucked me hard and fast.

“That’s it, sweetheart .” More Russian. “ Say my name .”

“ Rafa…” I moaned, and he sucked on my neck, biting his way up to my ear.

It felt like I was giving, but I wasn’t giving enough. I rolled my hips and clawed at every part of him I laid my hands on. I wished he had taken off his clothes. But I knew the decision was punishment. And I took it.

His name spilled out from my lips faster than I revved my engines.

“Fuck, Leo. This was not the fucking plan!”

Aggressively, he slapped my ass cheeks and squeezed, burying his face between my neck when I practically begged him to fuck me faster instead of raining curses on him like I wanted to.

The bookshelf clattered behind us, the wood scraping hard against the floor. The books clamored, the pages rustling as they dropped to the ground.

Sweat soaked us up, but he kissed me as if I tasted like apples. And I kissed him because he tasted like intoxicating wine. When he bucked faster, I matched his grunts and squeezed my legs tighter around his waist to keep him steady.

“This was not the fucking plan,” he thundered again, more to himself than to me. “But you’re here now, and you’re fucking mine. You belong to me, Leo. Your tits, your fucking pussy, this body—they’re mine and no one else’s. And I’ll fuck you whenever I bloody want. Do you fucking understand?”

I wanted to scream at him, tell him I belonged to no one, but the scream was strangled with chaotic moans when I came all over him again.

Growling, he covered my mouth with his and jerked, spilling his hot load inside me with a deep, guttural groan.

We stayed like that, neither of us pulling away, and I wasn’t sure when it happened, but I fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat racing against my chest.