Bratva Boss's Babysitter: An Instalove Possessive Male Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 192)

by Flora Ferrari

  Like Erik.

  Back in the office, the way he leaned close to me triggered something wild and foolish inside of me, almost as though my wildest, dirtiest fantasies were going to come true right there.

  He said he had to tell me something.

  But what?

  I can’t let myself dare to hope what I wish it was.

  The alarm has stopped now, but the guards have ordered us to stay in here until we get the all-clear. The all-clear from what, from who, I have no idea, but it’s sending shards of fear through me.

  For myself, sure, but mostly for Kat, her little face pinched in anxiety as she glances at the door and Bullet.

  “What if the car that killed Mommy is gonna get me too?” she sobs, burying her face in her sheets.

  “Bullet will protect us,” I tell her, stroking the back of her head, her hair tangled from where her braid has come loose. “And if he fails, I’ll protect us, okay, Kat? I’ve got one heck of a bite. You just haven’t seen it yet.”

  Kat giggles through a sob and then looks up, meeting my eyes. She wipes her tears away and then manages a small, shaky smile.

  “I really like you, Erin. And I’ve been sort’a thinking.”

  “About what?” I ask.

  “Well,” she says. “Well, well.”

  “Well-well-well,” I tease, saying it in the silliest, highest pitched voice I can muster. “Well-well-well.”

  “Hey,” she laughs, slapping my hand playfully. “I do not sound like that.”

  “What is it, Kat?” I ask, praying that whatever set that alarm off has gone, gone far away.

  And maybe with it I can send away my nonsensical, self-sabotaging thoughts, thoughts that let me think absurd things like that Erik Godunov was about to bridge some unspeakable gap between us.

  I felt my sex flaming, my body screaming, everything quaking and trembling in lust.

  But then the alarm came and doused that fire, and perhaps that was for the best, the only way it could go, because then it meant I didn’t have to torture myself with impossibilities.

  Kat twirls her hair around her finger, suddenly shy.

  “Nuthin,” she murmurs.

  “It doesn’t sound like nuthin,” I say. “Come on. Don’t be a tease.”

  “I was just thinking, I dunno, but I was thinking, Erin, I don’t know … you’re kinda like my best friend.”

  She looks down at the bed, her cheeks flaming red, and I feel a wave of warmth surging over me with the force of a tsunami.

  I touch her chin – he touched my chin, and it felt so good, so right – and move her gaze to mine.

  “You know what, Kat?” I say. “You’re my best friend, too.”

  Her face lights up and she thrusts her hand toward me, pinkie finger extended. “Promise?”

  “Promise,” I say, wrapping my pinkie around hers.

  “I wish you and uncle Erik would get married,” she blurts.

  “Woah,” I laugh, heart thudding. Me too, a thought strikes, lightning like. Me too, Kat. “Where did that come from?”

  “Erik and Erin,” she sings. “It makes so much sense. And then you can be here forever and ever. Oh, look, Bullet’s doing a dance.”

  I turn to find Bullet pawing at the door, panting excitably. A moment later, the door opens and Bullet steps back, and then leaps up at Erik, jumping around, probably just about as happy to see him as I am …

  Except I don’t think it’d be as well received if I got on all fours and started panting for him.

  You never know.

  Erik, standing there in his sleek suit, his eyes peering down at Kat and me as we hold hands. Something flitters into his expression, something like approval, and then he takes a few steps forward, stroking Bullet behind the ears the whole while.

  “Everything is fine,” he says.

  “What happened, uncle?” Kat asks.

  He sighs. “Someone tried to steal one of my cars,” he says. “But they’re gone now. You’re safe, Kat.” He wanders over to her and offers his pinkie, unprompted. “I promise, okay?”

  She beams and pinkie shakes him, and as I stare at him, another thought thunders into me.

  He’d make an incredible father.

  I let out a sigh, both at the thought and another notion that’s just occurred to me.

  What if it was Michael, my onetime stalker, the psychopath who has caused me so much heartache in my life, that tried to steal Erik’s car?

  The thought is just as absurd as everything else I have allowed to fritter through my mind lately, and yet an icicle of fear stabs into me, a whisper that it’s a fact, he’s here, he’s coming to get me.

  Again.

  Michael Jenkins, my personal bogeyman.

  Lucky me.

  “You should go back to sleep,” Erik says, looking at his niece.

  “I will,” she says. “But … can you sit with me? Can you both sit with me? Please?”

  I look up at Erik. Perhaps I’m imagining it, but I’m almost certain I see a moment of pride in those steely eyes.

  And then a question, silently asked, Shall we sit with my niece together?

  I move my chair aside, giving him room to kneel down, and then the three of us – Bullet, Erik, and I – sit in comfortable silence as Kat slowly drops off to sleep.

  “Come with me, Erin,” he whispers about a minute after Kat has dropped off.

  I stand, my whole body abuzz, and follow him out into the hallway.

  Bullet lopes behind us as we walk through the house, this giant estate that is still so imposing to me, with the gold gilt running along the center of the walls, the classical paintings, the general Old World vibe of the place.

  It’s probably the last place I’d ever expect to find myself, living on the street, day-to-day, wondering if tomorrow would bring more misery.

  We take Bullet to his room and I watch, my heart pounding up to the back of my throat, as Erik kneels next to the Great Dane and scratches him behind the ear.

  “Go to sleep, boy,” he says.

  I don’t let myself think as I stride across the room, falling to one knee next to Erik and scratch Bullet’s other ear. Our hands brush as the dog tips his head back, mouth splitting open in a grin as he enjoys a rub down from two people at once.

  Erik glances at me, a pained expression on his face.

  I’m once again left to wonder if I’ve angered him in some obscure, unforeseen way.

  We stand up and Bullet bounds off to bed, and then we return to the hallway and, silently, without discussing it, I follow him through the house and into the main living room. The chairs in here are like thrones, burgundy in color with gold edging, a large medieval rug spread across the floor.

  Erik leads us to the carved, patterned bar at the far end and rests his elbow against it, watching me with those penetrating eyes.

  I feel his gaze sinking into me, exploring me, sending tingles all over my body.

  I want this.

  I want this bad.

  But if I told him that, he’d laugh, I know he’d laugh.

  I’m not that girl, the kind of girl who gets to be with a man like Erik.

  “What happened tonight?” I ask him, lingering near the edge of the bar, fingers worrying at each other

  .

  “It’s like I said,” he sighs. “Somebody tried to steal one of my cars.”

  “And what happened to them?”

  “They got away.”

  “You didn’t …”

  What the heck am I doing?

  Shut up, shut up.

  Never mention his business, never allude to it. The man who hired me for this position was incredibly clear about that, and here I am, about to plunge headfirst into that ugly mess.

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Hurt him?”

  Erik smirks and springs up from the bar, moving with that lazy power so typical of him, a way of moving that belies his goliath’s size.

  “How would you feel if I did?” he s
ays. “He – they – whoever, they weren’t just going to steal the car, Erin. They were going to set my garage alight and burn my estate down. With Kat inside. With Bullet inside. With you inside.”

  His voice catches at the end, a husky growl, and I stare at him as he moves closer, and closer.

  He’s standing right in front of me.

  And I can smell his lust, I’m sure I can, waves of his lust wafting from him and dripping all over me like liquid desire. I feel drenched in it, coated in it.

  “I can’t hold myself back any longer,” he snarls, a bear emerging from a cave after wintertime, ready to claim his mate.

  Before I can even process what’s happening, much less believe it, he’s grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me towards him.

  He leans down and suddenly his lips are on me, his rough lips pressing into me.

  My mouth parts and my tongue finds his, tasting him, and all I can think is, Jesus, it’s really happening, I’m really kissing Erik Godunov.

  It doesn’t seem real, intellectually, it seems like a dream. And yet the feeling, the actual physicality of it, is blisteringly tactile.

  I can feel every inch of his lips, every texture of his tongue, every subtle shifting in his panting breath as he consumes more and more of me.

  My sex grinds against my panties, every nerve in my body primed and thrumming, boiling and alive in a way I have never been before.

  I realize my hands are just hanging at my sides and lift them, wrapping them around his shoulders and squeezing on tight, and even through the fabric of his suit I can feel them, his muscles, his bulging, rock hard muscles.

  He stumbles forward, making a beast like growling noise as my bum knocks into the back of the couch.

  An alarm squeals in my mind, even louder and more urgent than the one that screamed earlier this evening.

  He’s growling like a man who knows what he wants.

  And he’s going to take it.

  But panic quivers in me.

  Can I give it?

  I’m not so sure I have what he’s looking for, that I am what he’s looking for.

  Suddenly – again, without thinking, without reasoning – I’m breaking off the kiss, muttering the word sorry over and over, spinning and making for the door.

  I walk down the hallway, a ringing in my ears, panic, panic, panic.

  I’m not who you think I am, I want to scream. I’m just going to disappoint you.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Erik

  I follow her down the hallway to her bedroom, a large room at the rear of the house, overlooking the garden. My manhood is a stiff rod in my pants as I step forward and lay my hand against her door, stopping her from closing it.

  “What’s wrong?” I growl, my voice shaking.

  My body feels like it could tear to horny pieces at any second, like a werewolf, a fucking werewolf, a beast called Desire. I need this woman so bad my balls are trying to implode, my seed battering war drums of want, telling me to fist that golden hair and bend her over so her big, juicy ass cheeks frame the pink pussy, and then push, push hard, fast, and spill every searing drop into the fleshy folds of her soaked sex.

  “Erin,” I whisper, when she just stares at me. Tears beading in the corners of her eyes. I soften my voice, with an effort. “Tell me. You can always tell me anything.”

  She looks up at me, biting her lip in the way that, even when she’s sad, drives carnal thoughts around my mind and carnal feelings through my body.

  There’s a fucking freight train of lust barreling through me now, claiming every part of me just as fiercely as I’m going to claim her.

  “I don’t think you understand,” I growl, moving closer when she just stares silently. “I’m claiming you, Erin. That means you’re mine. That means you belong to me. Your lips, your hands, your perfect breasts, your fuckable ass, every curve in your perfect body, is mine. I’m laying claim to you because the second I heard your voice – not saw you, just heard your goddamn voice – I knew that you were the woman I’ve been looking for my whole life.

  “I won’t pretend to explain it with reason. Because this, Erin, this is far beyond reason. This is me telling you that if some poor bastard came in here right now and tried anything on with you, I’d break his fucking neck without thinking about it. You’re mine.”

  “I’m yours?” she whispers. I can hear her want to believe it in her voice, her longing. “Am I … really, Erik? This isn’t some joke?”

  I move even closer so that her breasts press against me, crushing them. I can feel her nipples through her shirt as I realize she’s not wearing a bra.

  God help me, this large breasted sex goddess isn’t even wearing a bra.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me into your bedroom?” I ask with a smirk.

  She bites her lip, lets it go, and bites it again.

  It’s a show I could watch all day if it were not for the mounting pressure inside of me, my shaft trying to explode as my body savors the pressure of hers.

  “Erik, I want to,” she whispers finally. “I’m so shocked you feel this way, really. I mean, heck, part of me wanted it to be true. But I just thought it was a silly fantasy. And I want to invite you in. But I’m scared.”

  “Scared of what?” I ask, lifting my hand and stroking her hair from her eyes, her gorgeous sunny blonde hair. “You need to know something, Erin. You never have to be afraid again, not with me protecting you. I’ll never let anything happen to you. I’ll die – I’ll kill – before that happens.”

  “I’m scared you won’t want me,” she whimpers, taking a step back into her bedroom.

  I stalk closer, keeping our bodies in contact the whole time.

  And then I wrap my arms around her and tug her toward me, squeezing onto the perfect plumpness of her ass cheeks.

  She lets out a quivering sigh, her eyelids fluttering as I sink my hands into the tasty juiciness of her ass, her perfect fucking ass, an ass that deserves to bounce up and down against my abs as I plunge wetly inside of her.

  “I’m a virgin,” she says.

  She spins away from me, breaking my grip as she walks over to the window, staring out at the garden. The room is shadowy and her figure makes a tempting silhouette as she stands there, framed in the night light.

  “So I guess that pretty much means whatever wild fantasies you’ve got about me are completely unrealistic. I’m not some porn-star-ready fricking, I don’t know, sex machine. I don’t know all the moves. All those moves the women you’re used to probably know.”

  I walk quietly up behind her, not a single floorboard creaking despite my size.

  “I’ve never even done anything sexual with a boy, honestly,” she goes on. “I know, it’s sad, it’s humiliating. I’m a nineteen year old virgin and I’ve never even gotten naked with a boy.”

  I stop close to her, feeling my manhood almost leaping like a viper from my pants, ready to taste every inch of her precious body.

  “Erin,” I growl. “Turn around. Face me.”

  “Why?” she whimpers.

  “Because I told you to,” I snarl.

  A shiver moves through her as she turns to face me.

  Her jeweled green eyes glisten.

  She stares at me, into me, and all at once I know, with more certainty than I have ever known anything, that I am going to make this woman pregnant, and soon.

  “Erin,” I growl, stalking close. “The fact that you’re a virgin just makes me want you more—”

  “Yeah, right …”

  “Yes,” I say firmly. “Right. To know that nobody, all the fucking idiots you’ve ever met, has never seen just how perfect and gorgeous and goddamn ravagable that body is, Jesus, it just makes me feel so lucky. And I get it. You’re nervous.”

  “Um, yeah,” she giggles, her smile a slice of summer bright light.

  “I don’t blame you. But let me help you. Let me show you just how gorgeous you are. I need this, Erin. I need to taste you. I need to feel that as
s without any fabric between us. I need to drink your juices deeply, drink every fucking drop. I want to be civilized about it, but the truth is, despite all the luxuries of my life, I’m not a civilized man. Not when it comes to us, this moment. No, now, I’m a savage. And I need you. Now, now.”

  She collapses against me, her lust more powerful than her anxiety.

  “Will you?” she whispers. “Just … do that? And nothing else. For now.”

  I laugh deeply and take her by the hand, gorgeously sweaty, and lead her toward her king size bed with its light silken sheets.

  “Will I?” I smirk. “There’s nothing on this planet that could stop me, Erin. That pussy belongs to me. And I’m done imagining its taste.”

  I guide her so she’s on her back and then kneel down, grabbing her pants and pulling them down, the beast inside of me unleashing now.

  My mouth starts to salivate as though I’ve been starving and now I finally get to feed.

  She makes a cute as fuck squealing noise when I pull her pants down and toss them to the floor. Her panties go the same way.

  And then …

  Oh, fuck.

  I lean back and stare at her pussy, her legs wide open for me, her lips tangled and glistening with where the wetness has smeared up and down them. Her pink hole is winking at me, her clit an engorged, hungry little nub.

  I squeeze onto her thighs, letting my fingers sink into her deliciously supple flesh.

  She shivers, and looks down at me through the V her legs make.

  “Is something … wrong?”

  “Wrong?” I repeat, disbelief making my voice grim. “Wrong? This is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Fucking hell. Look at your pussy. It’s magnificent. Let’s just hope it tastes the same. Though I know it will.”

  I drag my lips up her thigh, causing her skin to goose pimple, and then I open my mouth wide and take in as much of her pussy as I can.

  I push my tongue forward and move it around her clit, all the while sucking on the rest of her pussy, slurping on her lips so that her tanginess coats my tongue and my teeth and slides gorgeously down my throat.

  I swallow, tasting her womb, tasting her eagerness to give me a child.