Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Matvei
Every fucking time she fights me, I want her more.
Every time she outsmarts me, I need her.
I started out hunting her down to punish her for her betrayal and drag her back to where she belonged. But now—the thought of anyone else near her makes me rage. I cut off a soldier’s fucking hand before killing him for touching her. The idea of anyone else touching her—god.
I don’t just want her.
I want to own her, every inch of her.
But I owe my allegiance to my Bratva, and I can’t let even the most beautiful, intriguing, captivating woman who’s seared herself into every cell of my being sway me from what’s right.
She’s in the back seat of my car, her wrists red and raw from the restraints. I check them, frowning. I didn’t mean to tie them that hard.
Her hair’s a tangled mess around her face. She isn’t drugged, not this time. She’s just asleep. When she sleeps, she looks fragile and almost childlike, but there’s nothing fragile about this woman.
When I undo her restraints, she wakes with a start. Blinking up at me, her baby-blue eyes meet mine. “Where are we?” she whispers. Her voice is sharp around the edges.
Fuck.
She’s not afraid. She’s planning.
“Home sweet home,” I murmur, more to myself than her.
The gates swing open to my property, then close behind us with a satisfying click.
She turns to me, her eyes calculating.
Beautiful.
I’m sure she doesn’t want to be here, but this is where I live. My home is outside of Moscow, not far from my parents.
“Lovely,” Anissa murmurs, taking in the large estate. Cold stone, high balconies, windows too high and narrow to escape. “A five-star hostage situation.”
I give her a shrug. “If you behave.”
The house seems to swallow her whole when we step inside. I’ve dismissed my guards for the day. After what happened in Paris, they seemed eager to comply.
I want her alone.
I don’t want anyone else coming anywhere near her. Eventually, I’ll have to bring her back to the Kopolovs, but I want to wait until she’s not as wild… after I’ve had time with her.
She doesn’t know she has a sister. I don’t know how she’ll react to that.
I catch her wrist before she pulls away, rubbing gently at the chaffed skin. I watch as she scans the room with those thief’s eyes, already clocking exits.
Clever little brat.
“Don’t forget, you run, and I’ll find you.” I kiss the damp hair at her temple. I can’t help myself. “Faster than last time.”
“Thought you had a primal kink,” she says, her voice low. “Really, you think this is the first cage I’ve been in?” Rolling her eyes, she goes all wistful, her voice soft. “There was this guy…”
I freeze. Blood pounds in my ears, and my vision blurs.
No. She watches me. Waiting. Testing.
I let her go. I like her roaming free, ready to run. I like being ready to pounce.
“You think catching you was the endgame?” I shake my head. “That was only the prelude.” I lean in, my voice against her ear. “You think fucking you was the endgame? We’ll get there, but that’s not the endgame either.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Then what is?”
I shake my head. “I’ve already told you.”
Staring up at me, something like fear sparks in her eyes. “Owning me, right, right.” She winks at me. “Just like that guy in Paris…”
And then she smirks. The smirk destroys me, and I snap. I don’t think. I act.
One second, she’s standing there, all cocky and defiant as fuck, and the next? She’s over my fucking shoulder. I smack her ass so hard she howls. She kicks and fights, and it’s satisfying as fuck, spanking her again and holding her in place.
“You want to test me?” My voice is low, lethal. “Go ahead.”
I slide her down my chest, one arm wrapped around her back like a vise, my hand against her throat. I could bruise her soft, creamy skin. I could break her, and she knows it.
I press closer, my mouth against her ear. “Tell me about Paris. Tell me his name.”
She doesn’t.
Smart girl.
“You sure you’ve got nothing else to say?”
She could be bluffing, or I could be making a list of men who need to be erased from the face of the fucking earth.
Her gaze flicks to the bolted main entrance and the locked windows lined with security glass.
She presses her lips into a thin line. “That’s what I thought.
” I push an errant hair behind her ear. I blink, and I can see clearly again.
Then I bury my nose in her hair and breathe, and my heartbeat settles.
“Now that we’ve got that cleared up, let’s get cleaned up before we order dinner.”
She’s quiet now but not defeated. She’s thinking… planning her next move. I could strip her naked and chain her to the bed, and she’d still be ten steps ahead, planning her next move.
So I don’t mind taking my time. I’ll let her play her little games, let her think there’s a way out of this.
I hold her hand, take her upstairs, and lead her to the bathroom, where I turn the water on warm.
She watches me warily, but this isn’t a time when I’ll hurt her.
Slowly, methodically, I strip her. I run a hand over the fading welts across her ass, and she hisses in a breath. I can’t help it. I drop to my knees.
Holding her hips on either side, I run my lips across the welted skin, committing it to memory. I bite her ass, earning me a scream.
My fingers skim her ribs, her waist, her hips. She shivers but lets me.
Maybe she’s brave. Maybe she’s resigned.
Maybe she wants this.
I get to my feet and lead her into the shower before I undress and join her.
Water sluices over her skin, washing away sweat and dirt.
I lather her scalp and rinse it, then use conditioner on the ends.
I take a washcloth and slide it down her breasts, over the swell of her stomach and the curve of her hips.
I imagine her belly pregnant with my baby. We’ll get there.
Fuck. She’s so fucking gorgeous.
“You take care of all your prisoners like this?” she asks, her eyes tracking my every move.
“No,” I say simply, wiping between her thighs, spreading her slick with the soap as if there’s nothing at all sexual about this. Her breath stutters. “Not every prisoner will have my baby.”
My cock aches. Her gaze grows deadly, her voice tight. “Lucky me.”
Will she feel like she’s lucky when she’s pregnant with my baby? When she’s tethered to me, our DNA knit together? When we’ll be aligned as parents to our child, whether she likes it or not?
Then—to my surprise—she reaches for the soap.
I watch her long, thin fingers as she pours some into her palm and then lathers my hair.
Next, she rubs it on the washcloth and spreads it across my shoulders and down my chest.
My cock throbs.
I want her.
Even as a part of me still whispers guilt.
Bring her back here for punishment—that was my job. That was the order.
No one said I couldn’t enjoy it.
I grip her hips and drag her closer, wet skin sliding against mine. She cups some water and pours it over my shoulders, washing the bubbles away.
I watch them drip down her arms… down her breasts.
I make sure they land right here—where I want her.
I grab her hips again, bend her over, and line my cock at her entrance.
I slide the head of my cock into her pussy, and the feel of her—hot, slick, clenching like her body’s trying to pull me deeper—is fucking magic.
I thrust into her.
Her hands slap against the tile, and her moans echo off the walls.
I thrust harder. Punishing. And her greedy cunt tightens around me like she can’t decide if she wants to push me out or pull me deeper.
She’s so fucking tight.
I reach around her, rough fingers twisting her nipple until she gasps.
I want her to feel this.
I want her to know exactly what it feels like to come on my cock, on my hand, on my face.
I want her to crave it. Crave me.
I want her to come back for more—crawling if she has to.
Anissa loves sex.
Now she’ll love sex with me.
She can run, but I’ll always find her. I’ll always give chase.
But the way I’ll truly tether her to me is simple.
I’ll make her addicted to me—to my cock, to my tongue. To the way her body feels after I’ve filled her with my seed.
Pregnant.
Ruined.
Mine.
That’s how I’ll prove myself to the Bratva.
I watch her body as I drive into her. Watch the muscles in her back tense and flex. Watch her neck arch and her breath stutter.
I sink my teeth into her shoulder, and her moan breaks apart like she’s falling.
I cup her breast, palm heavy and rough against her skin. She doesn’t flinch—doesn’t move. But when I flick her nipple, her body jerks.
And when I press my thumb to her tight little asshole while I fuck her…
That sharp cry? That’s the sound I’ll replay in my head every time I close my eyes.
“Kinky, beautiful girl,” I purr, licking the sweat from her throat. “Look how dirty you fucking are. You want me to take your ass, too, don’t you?”
She shudders, her voice low and seductive. “What you’re doing right now? It’s perfect.”
My cock throbs inside her, watching the red welts bloom across her ass. My teeth mark is dark on her shoulder.
I want her wet with my cum.
Dripping with it.
Owned by me.
I thrust into her again. And again, and again.
Until her fingers claw the tile. Until her whole body locks and shatters around me, and I spill inside her.
I slide my fingers over her clit, circling, rubbing.
She comes again, hard and breathless, screaming into the steam-filled air. Her scream ends with a sniff.
Is she… crying?
I stop moving inside her, still seated deep.
I wait.
But when I look at her, I can’t tell. Her face is pink, but it’s warm in here.
I take the washcloth and clean her, then clean myself, rinsing us under the water before I shut it off. My stomach growls.
“Hungry?” she asks.
“I’ve been going from one place to the next, barely stopping to eat. I’m fucking starving,” I tell her. “You?”
“Famished.”
I hand her a towel, and we dry off; then I take her into my room.
“You live here alone?” She looks around. My bedroom is small and clean, but not immaculately clean like my cousin Semyon’s place or messy and quirky like Rodion’s. It works. I only sleep in here.