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

by Flora Ferrari

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze.

  “Do what?”

  “Be ashamed of yourself, of your words, of anything.”

  “I think you might regret saying that,” she laughs, turning back to the menu.

  “Oh, why’s that?” I humor.

  “Because I’m looking at this menu, and I’m thinking, yeah, I could go for the wagyu or the lobster frittata or the cassoulet, whatever that is—”

  “It’s just a casserole,” I chuckle.

  “But do you know what I really want?” she says. “I want a big, juicy, double cheeseburger. But the idea of sitting here chowing down on a double cheeseburger on what’s supposed to be a civilized date, well … I guess I should order a salad, right?”

  “Salad,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Did you just say salad? Let me tell you something, Erin, and I am deadly serious here. If you even think about ordering a salad I’m going to bend you over this table and spank you until your ass is red.”

  She flushes. “Um, maybe I want to order the salad now?” she whispers, glancing away from me as her shyness moves through her.

  Perhaps I really am a twisted beast of a man, but thinking about a double cheeseburgers makes me think about her ass cheeks, and her juice, her precious fucking juice, and as I stare at her I can taste it from last night, tangy on my tongue. Brushing my teeth felt like a betrayal last night, getting rid of that taste.

  “Be careful what you give me permission to do,” I growl. “Because I’ll take it. Every inch.”

  “So what you’re saying is you’re forcing me to order the burger, then?”

  I can’t help but smirk. “Yes, I suppose you could frame it in that way. I’ll order us both the burgers. I’ve got an appetite tonight.”

  We order our food and drinks. One of my men – Dobry, a man who’s been with me since he was nineteen years old – brings our sodas and then retreats.

  “You can drink, if you want,” Erin mutters. “I wouldn’t resent it, I mean.”

  “I don’t drink,” I tell her. “I like to keep a clear head.”

  “Woah,” she says. “I just assumed you’d be a real vodka chugger.”

  I laugh again, and then realize that I’ve laughed more this evening with Erin than I have in years. Except with Kat and Yekaterina and Bullet, perhaps, but they are anomalies in my life.

  Just like Erin.

  She is the most beautiful anomaly of all.

  “I’ve seen what it can do to men, how it can warp them. I have no interest in it. I don’t care if others want to drink, though.”

  “Living on the streets,” she mutters, “you get to see a lot of that, too. It’s not pretty. Plus, my parents …”

  She trails off and scratches at the table.

  “That’s not exactly fun dinner conversation, though, is it?”

  “I never knew my parents,” I tell her, and the words lift a massive weight off my chest. I’ve never talked about this, except with Yekaterina. “My sister and I were raised in an orphanage. When I was old enough, I worked my ass off so that we’d never have to worry about anything again. I did what I had to do. I made my fortune.”

  I look down at the city, this glittering, grimy, magnificent city which has given me so much and taken so much.

  “I’m so sorry, Erik,” she whispers.

  “Don’t be,” I tell her. “I’m only telling you so you know it’s okay to share, that you don’t have to be ashamed. Not with me.”

  “They were junkies,” she sighs. “Junkie, junkie, junkie. That’s all I heard growing up. It seemed like there was always someone there ready to remind me just what massive failures my parents were. After a while, I got tired of hearing it. It didn’t make it any less true, obviously. But I just didn’t care anymore.”

  I look at her again, feeling a crashing certainty, another moment of iron clad sureness, that this is her, the woman I’ve been searching for.

  “You’re going to make an amazing mother, Erin.”

  “Oh, stop,” she giggles, turning her face away in embarrassment.

  “I mean it,” I say passionately. “I can just see it now, all of our children dressed in their fancy little clothes, sitting obediently for a portrait as you sit there, my queen, painting them. You’ll be a huge painter by then. A worldwide success. And we’ll have, oh, I’d say about six or seven children to keep our home happy. Kat will be off somewhere, perhaps working as a veterinarian as she has sometimes discussed lately. And everything will be perfect.”

  Erin blinks and her eyes glisten wetly.

  I reach over and brush her warm tears away.

  “That sounds amazing,” she whispers. “But do you really think children with your genes are going to be obedient, Erik?”

  I squeeze her hand again, harder. “You might have a point there,” I agree.

  Then, from the entrance way, Dobry clears his throat.

  I turn and he’s standing there with two silver platters. I nod shortly and he brings them forward, laying them down carefully before disappearing from the room.

  Outside, a plane passes by, insanely close up this high. Its lights flash and for a moment it’s like we’re in the clouds, though there are so few clouds tonight.

  “This smells delicious with the lid on,” she gasps. “I bet it’s going to taste like absolute heaven.”

  “I’ve already tasted heaven,” I tease. “And it didn’t taste much like a burger. Tasted pretty perfect, though.”

  She flushes, giving me a cute as hell look.

  “You’re dirty,” she giggles.

  “Yes,” I say. “I am.”

  Later.

  Later, if she’s ready, I’m going to take her, claim her, paint her in vivid, lust fueled colors.

  My seed warms.

  I lift the platter.

  The burgers are gourmet and delicious looking, but nothing, nobody, is as appetizing as my Erin.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Erin

  We sit on the open air balcony of the luxury hotel suite, the wooden decking sleek and seemingly brand new. The hot tub is off to our left, bubbling invitingly, and hot air fans us with warmth as we make major, major eyes at each other.

  The dinner was like a revelation, realizing with shattering certainty how close Erik and I truly are.

  He’s an orphan, too.

  I never knew that, but the longer the meal went on, the more we talked about it.

  His rise in the Bratva, starting as a courier and then participating in a fighting ring at the age of nineteen, proving himself with his fists first and then his brains later. And then using money stolen from a drug dealer to start his own legitimate business, growing it, until now more of his businesses are legitimate than not.

  I’m not naïve. Nobody who lives on the grimy streets of any city can afford to be. He could be lying to me with his talk of legitimate businesses.

  But the thing is, I know he’s not.

  I know it’s dangerous to trust. But I trust him, wholeheartedly, unequivocally, I trust this man.

  He takes a sip of his drink and smirks at me.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

  Say it, say it, a voice urges inside of me.

  My nerves try to take hold.

  My anxiety tries to force me to second guess.

  But somehow I push all of that aside as I sit up straight, folding my legs, noticing the way his eyes flit to my thighs. And for the first time in my life, I don’t think that a man must be assuming I’m disgusting.

  I think about how sexy I might look, no, do look to him, my man.

  My man.

  “I’m thinking it would be a shame to let that hot tub go to waste,” I whisper.

  There, the words are out.

  Erik smirks, places his drink on the sleek glass table, and then rises slowly to his feet.

  My mouth falls open as he starts to grapple with his buttons. He’s dressed in a cyan shirt, the same pallor as h
is eyes, and as he unbuttons confidently with one hand, the fabric squeezes onto his muscles as though trying to hold on for dear life, as though it knows that at any moment he could tear it to shreds.

  His chest is revealed with each popped button, a sheet of muscle.

  “Well?” he says, pulling off the shirt to show a sleek, muscled torso that’s carved like marble, his pectorals two giant mounds, his abs a solid block of brick. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Are you serious?” I gasp.

  He smirks and kicks off his leather shoes, and then starts to unbuckle his belt.

  “I’m deadly fucking serious,” he growls. “Take off that dress. Get in that hot tub. Now, Erin. I can’t wait anymore.”

  I stand up as though his words are invisible strings tugging me to my feet, and then without giving myself time to doubt I pull at my clothes. The hot air pricks my skin, makes it tingle, as I quickly tear myself into nakedness.

  Then, sooner than I can believe, I’m standing in front of him, naked except for my panties.

  Erik is naked, too, and he’s like a statue, all carved, seething muscle. His manhood points straight up, the size of my forearm, the veins throbbing, his head engorged and glistening with precome.

  “Fuck,” I whisper. “Oh my God.”

  Snap, he tears my panties away, tossing them to the floor.

  I squeal as he takes me by the shoulders and guides me towards the hot tub, lowering me in as the warm water laps at me, the bubbles sizzling.

  And then he slides in after me and pushes close, heat surrounding me, bubbles bursting and tingling against my sex and my clit, my everything.

  “I want to be a gentleman,” he chuckles savagely. “But I can’t. I need that pussy. I need it now.”

  He grabs my shoulders and spins me around.

  I gasp and grip the edge of the hot tub, pushing my ass out instinctively, offering myself to him like he’s a hunter and I’m prey.

  But I’m willing prey.

  I want to be hunted, need to be hunted, by him, my alpha, my man, my protector, my bear, my beast.

  “You have no idea how perfect your ass looks all wet like this,” he groans, sliding his hands over my cheeks, leaving a trail of sensation. “Stick it out. More. More.”

  I do as he says, hearing the tremoring insistence in his voice, the growling undertone of it. He sounds like he’ll explode – or the world will – if I don’t do what he says.

  And I want to do what he says.

  Always.

  “Fuck,” he snarls, stroking the head of his sword against my sex, up and down my lips, coming close to my hole, closer each time. “You’re soaked. You’re fucking soaked for me.”

  I wriggle against him, my pussy flaming, something deep inside me quivering and fluttering in need for him to take me.

  “Beg for my seed,” he says firmly. “Tell me how badly you want it.”

  “I want it,” I moan, wriggling, feeling his shaft between my ass cheeks. “Fuck me, Erik. Please take me. Take me hard and fast. Put our first baby in my womb. I can feel how badly I want it. My womb is screaming at me. I’m—”

  But then I can’t speak anymore.

  He grabs my shoulders and, in one fluid motion, he pushes himself deeply inside of me.

  I gasp and almost fall forward, but his confident grip on my shoulders holds me up, pulling me towards him as he thrusts into me. I feel my ass cheeks flattening against the hardness of his abs, and his cock slides deeper, and deeper.

  And then somehow deeper.

  I feel a note of pain—but then it’s gone.

  Pleasure blossoms and I feel my womb doing a war dance of celebration, ready for this battle, this moment.

  He keeps one hand on my shoulder to pull me towards him, becoming more savage and unchained with each carnal thrust. The other smooths over my soaked ass cheeks, squeezing.

  I turn to find his lips twisted and his eyes feral and wide, staring at me with the complete abandon of a man who couldn’t stop even if a meteor crashed into the city outside.

  I reach back and claw onto his abs, stroking my hand down the shining muscles, feeling the ridges and the pulsating power of him.

  His whole body is tight and feels like it’s ready to burst, his veins standing out wetly and prominently against the carved muscles of his skin.

  I squeeze my legs together, tight around his cock, my pussy flaming as the bubbling hot tub water blasts against my clit.

  I slide back, the wetness making everything feel intense, like there’s an orb of euphoria ready to explode inside of me, explode and seep, orgiastic, down my thighs.

  “You better cream on my fucking cock soon,” he growls, panting, groaning.

  He squeezes onto my ass harder, staring in wonder down at my cheeks as they slap against his abs.

  “Fucking hell. Your ass is perfect, Erin, it’s fucking perfect.”

  “I’m—I’m—”

  I can’t speak as an entirely new feeling flurries inside of me.

  I feel like the whole sky is collapsing down on me.

  Everything is spinning and surging and coming together and falling apart, and then, in a buckshot moment of release, all the pent-up pressure inside of me lets fly.

  I gasp and slide down the length of him, the thickness seeming even larger inside of me as his cock pulses against the walls of my quivering pussy.

  I have to collapse forward, everything within me focused on the pumping of his hips.

  He wraps his arms around me, his forearms bracing my breasts, his torso laid flat against my back as his hot wet rock hard cock thunders into my pussy.

  “You’re creaming so fucking beautifully for me,” he growls in my ear. “Keep going. Show that fucking womb how bad you want it. Cream, Erin. Cream all over my dick.”

  I feel my pussy squirting, squeezing out wave after wave of ecstasy.

  And then Erik roars and brings his mouth to my shoulder, biting softly, moaning through the bite as his cock shifts inside me.

  I can feel his seed shooting up his shaft, feel it in the undulations of my own pleasure, our pleasure.

  He lets go of my shoulder and strokes his hand along my cheek, turning my face so that our lips can just about meet in the tangle of pleasure.

  “Jesus,” I gasp, as the last of my come fires out of me, his into me, my squirting release and his seed mixing in my aching pussy. “Oh my God, Erik. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  We collapse into the hot tub together, the water splashing all around us.

  A laugh escapes my lips and I turn to find Erik with a smirk on his face. I follow his gaze and see that he’s looking at the redness in the water.

  After a delay, I realize it’s my virginity, and a same colored blush rises to my cheeks.

  “No,” he whispers, running his hand through my hair. “It’s perfect, Erin. Don’t be ashamed. It’s a sign that you waited, waited for me. And now you have me – we have each other – I own you – forever. Forever.”

  “Forever,” I echo, laying my head against his chest, feeling the water against my cheek and, past that, the hammering of his possessor’s heartbeat.

  He sinks back and for a while we just enjoy the bubbling of the water, and then Erik’s hands strays down from my shoulders to my breasts.

  His fingers move around my nipples, making them hard, making them tingle.

  I bite down on my lip and he tilts his head at me.

  “Fuck,” he groans. “Do you think you could come for me, Erin, just like this?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper, and then my voice catches. “M-maybe.”

  He stares down at me with the heat and fury and intensity of a flaring sun, and his powerful fingers keep stroking around my nipples, tugging at them softly, tweaking them. The sensation is entirely new and strange, and the tingling doesn’t stop.

  It gets faster, harder.

  I shift my hips, grinding against the bubbles, as he grabs firmer, his jaws tight.

  “Ah,” I gasp.r />
  The tingles erupt and my pussy starts to pulse and sear and then my vision goes blurry as I stare through pleasure-filled eyes up at him, an O of surprise on my lips, an O that seems to drive him even crazier.

  The orgasm passes quickly, a jolt of surprise euphoria and then it’s over.

  I laugh, feeling like a new door inside myself has been opened, a door I never even knew was locked.

  “That was crazy,” I whisper.

  “It’s just the start,” he smirks. “I plan on exploring every inch of you, Erin. Every fucking molecule. By the time I’m done with you, I’ll know you inside and out.”

  “But won’t you get bored?” I whisper.

  He throws his head back and laughs huskily, fully.

  I wonder if the bizarre, warm intoxicated feeling that has possessed me after our sex has also taken hold of him.

  “Bored?” he says, looking at me indulgently. “I truly believe it would be impossible to get bored of you, Erin. You’re one of a kind. And I count myself the luckiest man in the world that I found you.”

  I move closer to him, an irrepressible smile on my face, no longer a virgin.

  And I couldn’t have lost it to a better man.

  “Erik, I …”

  “Yes?” he prompts, when I trail off.

  I want to be with you forever. I want to be your wife.

  “I’m so happy we met.”

  “Me too, Erin,” he whispers, fingers tickling my neck pleasantly. “Though glad doesn’t quite cut it. It’s more that I feel like my life was a ship. It was sailing along steadily enough. There were waves, of course, slight changes in my course. But nothing this … this momentous, I suppose you could say.”

  “And now?” I murmur. “What is it now, Erik?”

  For the first time, I note a glimmer of shyness in him. Just a moment. He looks at the sky through the open air ceiling, and again I get that feeling that we’re in our own private floating world.

  “Now,” he says, looking at me again, like he’s made up his mind. “Now our lives are a shooting star, Erin.”