Secret Bratva Daddy

Chapter 12Avros

12

Avros

T he weight of the Glock 19 is familiar in my hand as I methodically clean the weapon. It's a ritual that usually centers me, but tonight, my mind wanders from the task. I can't shake the memory of Sydney's soft skin under my fingers, the way she arched into my touch, hungry for more.

I growl, setting the gun down with more force than necessary. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm Avros Petrov, feared Bratva boss, not some lovesick teenager. And yet, here I am, distracted by thoughts of a woman when I should be focused on saving my brother.

The thick manila folder on Lance Halloway lies open on my desk, a stark reminder of the task at hand. I force myself to focus, leafing through pages of personal information until I find what I need—his likely current location, based on his typical schedule.

My phone buzzes. A message from my informant:

"Target on the move. Window closing fast."

I reach for my phone, dialing a familiar number. When it connects, I speak quickly, my voice cold and authoritative.

"It's me. I have a job. Lance Halloway. I'm sending you his location now. Make it clean, make it fast."

I end the call, a grim satisfaction settling over me. In a few hours, Lance will be dead, and Miron will be one step closer to freedom. I am sworn to protect my brother, no matter the cost.

As I close the file, my eyes land on a framed photo on my desk. It’s Miron and me as children, his arm slung around my shoulders, both of us grinning. I remember the vow I made then, to always keep him safe. I can't falter now.

But as I lean back in my chair, Sydney's face flashes in my mind once more. What would she think if she knew what I've just done? The thought shouldn't matter, but for some reason it does, especially now that she’s seen a glimpse of the man underneath the surface. If she knew what a ruthless monster I was, would she stay, or would she just walk away?

I stand abruptly, needing to move, to shake off this unfamiliar feeling of doubt. I've made my choice. Lance's fate is sealed. All that's left now is to wait for confirmation that the job is done.

A soft knock at the door interrupts my brooding. "Come in," I call out, my voice rougher than intended.

Sydney enters, a vision in a simple sundress that clings to her curves in all the right ways. My body responds instantly, desire coiling hot and heavy in my gut.

"I thought you might need a break," she says softly, holding up a tray with coffee and what looks like freshly baked pastries. "You've been in here for hours."

For a moment, I'm tempted to send her away. To maintain the wall between my world and hers. But the sight of her, soft and inviting, ignites a primal need within me.

"Set it down," I command, my voice low and authoritative. Sydney obeys, her eyes widening slightly at my tone. Good. She needs to remember who's in charge here.

I stalk towards her, enjoying the way her breath quickens with each step. When I reach her, I cup her face in my hands, my touch possessive. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" I growl.

Sydney shivers, her pupils dilating with desire. "Avros," she breathes. “We shouldn’t do this again.”

“But you want to.” The look in her eyes says it all. “So do I.”

I claim her mouth in a searing kiss, pouring all my frustration and need into it. Sydney melts against me with a whimper, her body molding to mine as if we were made for each other. I growl low in my throat, deepening the kiss as my hands roam her curves possessively.

“This body is mine,” I murmur against her lips, nipping gently. “Every inch of it, Sydney. Do you understand?"

She nods, breathless and flushed. “I understand, Avros. No other man will touch me, I swear it. I’m yours.”

The admission sends a jolt of possessive pleasure through me. I lift her easily, setting her on the edge of my desk and stepping between her parted thighs. My hands slide up her legs, pushing her dress higher.

"I want you," I growl, my voice rough with need. "Right here, right now. Can you be quiet for me, krasotka ? Can you take what I give you without making a sound?"

Sydney's eyes widen, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flashing across her face. But she nods, biting her lower lip in a way that makes me want to soothe the sting with my tongue.

I capture her mouth once more, swallowing her soft moans as I touch her everywhere, relearning the landscape of her body. My fingers find her center, already slick with arousal, and I growl my approval.

"So wet for me," I murmur, circling her clit with maddening slowness. "Such a good girl."

Sydney whimpers, her hips rocking against my hand. I use my free hand to pin her in place, a reminder of who's in control.

"Patience," I chide gently. "I'll give you what you need on my own terms. Trust me."

She nods, her eyes locked on mine as I continue my sweet torture. When I finally slide two fingers inside her, curling them just right, Sydney has to bury her face in my shoulder to muffle her cries of pleasure.

I work her higher and higher, my own need building to a fever pitch, my cock aching to thrust in her wet heat. But I hold back, focused solely on her pleasure. When she finally comes apart in my arms, shaking and gasping my name, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

As Sydney comes down from her high, I hold her close, pressing soft kisses to her temple. For a moment, I let myself believe that this could be enough. That I could leave behind the violence and darkness of my world, build a life with this incredible woman who's somehow wormed her way into my heart.

But reality crashes back in as my phone buzzes on the desk. It’s a message from my hitman.

Job done. Target eliminated.

The cold satisfaction I usually feel after a successful hit is tainted now by a twinge of something. Is it regret? Could it be shame? I push the feeling aside, focusing instead on the warmth of Sydney in my arms.

"What was that?" she asks, her voice slightly muffled against my chest.

I tense for a moment before forcing myself to relax. "Nothing important," I lie smoothly, tilting her chin up to kiss her softly. "Just some business being taken care of."

Sydney searches my face, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think she's going to call me out on the lie. But then she simply nods, snuggling closer.

"I trust you, Avros," she murmurs, and the words are like a knife to my gut.

I hold her tighter, burying my face in her hair to hide the conflict I'm sure is written all over my face. Because the truth is, I don't deserve her trust. Not when I'm keeping so much from her. Not when my hands are stained with the blood of countless men, Lance Halloway now among them.

But I'm too selfish to let her go. Too weak to push her away, even though I know it's what I should do.

As we break apart, both breathless and flushed, I make a silent vow. I'll find a way to protect both Sydney and Miron. To keep my promise to my brother without losing the woman who's become my whole world.

But deep down, a voice whispers that I can't have both. That sooner or later, I'll have to choose. And that choice may very well destroy me.

For now, though, I push those dark thoughts aside. I have Sydney in my arms, warm and willing. Miron is one step closer to freedom. And for the moment, that has to be enough.

I'll deal with the consequences tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to lose myself in the woman who's somehow become my salvation and my downfall all at once.

"Turn around," I growl, my voice thick with desire. "Hands on the desk."

Sydney's eyes widen, but she obeys without hesitation. The sight of her bent over my desk, her dress riding up to reveal the curve of her ass, nearly undoes me.

I step closer, pressing my body against hers. My hand slides up her thigh, pushing her dress higher. “I noticed that you weren’t wearing panties.” I chuckle darkly when she parts her thighs. “You were hoping for my fingers again, weren’t you? Such a naughty girl."

Sydney whimpers, pressing back against me. She’s dripping from her orgasm, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to take her right then and there.

Instead, I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. "Do you want my cock inside you again, krasotka ? Tell me."

"Yes," she gasps, her voice breathy with need. "Please, Avros. I need you. It’s all I can think about now.”

Her words ignite a fire in my blood. I quickly undo my belt and zipper, freeing my aching cock. Without preamble, I line myself up and thrust into her, both of us groaning at the sensation. She’s hot and slick around me, primed from her orgasm, her sweet little pussy pulling me in eagerly.

I set a punishing rhythm, one hand gripping her hip while the other tangles in her hair. The sound of skin on skin fills the office, punctuated by Sydney's muffled moans and my own guttural groans.

“This tight little pussy is mine,” I growl, punctuating each thrust with the word. "Say it, Sydney. Tell me who your body belongs to."

“I’m your, Avros,” she cries out, her voice strained with pleasure. “Please, don’t stop. You feel so good inside me, I think I might come again.”

Her words push me closer to the edge. I reach around, my fingers finding her clit and circling it roughly. "Come for me, baby," I command. "Let me feel you pulse around my cock.”

Sydney's body tenses, then shudders as she comes apart around me. The feeling of her inner walls clenching around me triggers my own release, and I empty myself inside her with a hoarse shout.

We stay like that for a moment, both panting and sweaty. As the haze of pleasure begins to clear, I realize with a jolt that we didn't use protection. Again.

But as I look down at Sydney, her skin flushed and hair mussed, I can't bring myself to regret it. The primal part of me relishes the thought of her carrying my child, a visible mark of my claim on her. And I know that I would care for her, would give her everything, even if I shouldn’t.

I pull out slowly, turning Sydney to face me. Her eyes are glazed with satisfaction, her lips swollen from our kisses. She's never looked more beautiful.

"Are you alright?" I ask, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Sydney nods, a small smile playing at her lips. "More than alright," she murmurs, leaning into my touch.

As I hold her close, I know that I'm in too deep. That I should end this now, before it's too late. But the thought of letting her go is more painful than any bullet wound I've ever endured.

So I push aside the guilt, the fear, the knowledge that this can only end in heartbreak. For now, I'll allow myself this moment of peace, of connection.

Tomorrow, I'll face the consequences of my actions. But tonight, Sydney is mine. And that's all that matters.