Twisted Throne (Bratva Born #2)

23. Adriana

Adriana

The adrenaline is pumping around my body as if this is real. It’s not, I reassure myself. I have a safe word, but still, Dimitri is kind of crazy. I’m never one hundred percent sure of what he’s going to do, and worst, my body likes that.

My mind is all up on her feminist pedestal being disgusted by my aching core and wet panties, which belie how I really feel about it.

I have taken the stairs to the third floor, and I’ve found a hiding place in what seems to be a hobby room. It has a sewing machine on a table with bits and pieces of fabric and tulle and buttons and lace scattered around.

I’m hiding behind a sofa at the back of the room, trying to keep my breathing even.

I can hear him, as he moves around on the floor below me. Looking for me.

Searching.

Hunting.

His footsteps are measured. Slow. When he starts whistling, I know he’s fucking with me. The sound makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end.

He’s damn well stalking me. Taking his time. Dragging this out, and it’s winding me up to a state of genuine fear. I scuttle out from behind the sofa, looking for anything I can use as a makeshift weapon. He said to fight, after all. The sewing machine is too heavy, plus I don’t want to actually harm him. Just slow him down and throw him off his game.

There’s a box full of crafty things, and it has what looks like confetti and glitter in it. I grab that and take a big bag of each. There are also sugared almonds. There must have been a wedding perhaps that they were due to attend. The almonds I grab too. A handful of those to the face might sting. It’s not going to damage him, but if I throw it in his face, it will distract him for a minute, and I can run.

As I crawl back behind the sofa, I stumble and land on my knees, making a noise.

Fuck .

I hold my breath, and when I hear his low chuckle as he ascends the stairs, I know I’ve given myself away.

My body tenses, the way it does just before fight or flight kicks in, and my breathing grows ragged.

The door to the room opens. “I think there’s a little bluebird in here,” Dimitri sing-songs.

I can’t seem to control my jagged breathing. I try to keep it quiet, but it sounds like a roaring in my head, then I remember, he can’t hear the way I can. He heard the bang I made because that would have been loud, but he won’t be able to hear me breathe. If I keep real still, he might not find me.

The light blazes on in the room and I squint, unable to see well. A big hand wraps around my ankle, and I’m dragged out from behind the sofa. I kick with all my might, but he easily gets me and turns me over. Except I have two fists full of confetti, almonds, and glitter and I throw it all at his face with a scream.

He lets go, wiping at his eyes, and I run. I race out of the room, down the stairs, and as I hit the second landing, I hear him pounding after me. Damn, a whole load of crap to the face barely slowed him down at all.

My eyes dart left and right, and then I see the bathroom up ahead. I sprint for it, darting inside, but just as I turn to close the door his arm shoots through the gap, and he pushes his way inside.

He looks fucking maniacal. His black hair is covered in bits of red glitter, and confetti dots his shoulders. It makes him look even more terrifying than usual because it’s such a juxtaposition with his menacing expression and huge build.

As he advances on me, I step back, and back, and back again until my ass hits the counter behind me, and I have nowhere to go.

He spins me around, my back to his front, one arm around my middle, and the other at my throat, holding me hostage as he squeezes.

Like this, I can see myself in the mirror above the counter, and I stare. I look so alive. Flushed cheeks and décolletage, big eyes, pink lips, and ragged breathing.

“Got you now, littleblue,” he growls as he bites at the shell of my ear. His hand at my middle scrunches the fabric of my dress into his fist as he licks and bites at the shell of my ear. He lets go of the silky cloth and brings his hand up to my breasts, squeezing them through the fabric and rubbing the silk over my nipples. I have a bra on, but it’s flimsy and isn’t padded, so my hard nipples are poking right out of the fabric. He pushes a finger into my mouth. “Suck it,” he orders.

I shake my head, remembering I’m meant to be fighting him, but he laughs. “Fine.” He rubs his finger over my tongue and then brings it down, tracing wet around my nipple. He repeats the process on the other side. “Look at you with your wet, aching nipples. Bet you want them sucking, huh?”

“Get off me,” I hiss. I try to buck him off, but he’s too strong.

His hand at my throat once again tightens, and the one pinching my nipple moves down to slide the material of my dress up. He looks down in the mirror and growls, actually growls like a fucking lion.

“Look at your pussy,” he orders.

I glance downward at my reflection and see the damp spot on the front of my silk panties.

“You’re such a slut for it. You say you don’t want me, but you do.”

“I hate you,” I seethe.

I don’t know who I’m directing those words to as I don’t hate Dimitri, but I do think I hate myself a little bit because I’m so churned up, and I most definitely hate Barnaby, and I can’t tell him that now because he’s dead. I hate my father a little bit, despite loving him a whole lot, and I kind of hate Hana. But hating other people is a sin, and it’s also a poison that will destroy the hater faster than the object of their loathing.

“That’s it,” he says. “Tell me how much you fucking hate me. Fight me. Hurt me.”

I slip out of his grasp and push him so hard he rocks back on his heels, but he grabs me and hoists me over his shoulders. I scream in anger and surprise, but he only smacks my ass, hard. He smacks it again and carries me out into the hallway like I’m a sack of potatoes.

“What’s your safe word?” he demands. “Tell me it again.”

“Rebecca,” I pant.

He puts me down on the thick carpet of the hallway and stares down at me. I crawl backward like a crab, trying to put distance between us, but he falls on me and laughs. He fucking laughs, and I lose it.

This time, I really fight.

I kick and scream and punch, and he doesn’t do any of that back, but he’s still over me, and then he has both my wrists in his, so I can only use my legs. He fists my expensive silky dress in one big hand and lets go of my wrists long enough to grab it with the other and rip it right down the middle.

I gasp in genuine outrage. I loved that dress. My hand comes up without me even thinking, and I slap his face.

He stills for a moment, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far, but he grins a whole lot deranged. “That’s hot,” he says.

“Fuck off.”

“Make me.” His words are so terribly calm.

I turn into a wildcat, bucking, kicking, yelling, clawing, but he’s so big and so strong, and soon he has my panties to one side, and he’s stroking my clit and I can feel his massive cock at my entrance.

He pushes in, and I still, the fight knocked out of me by the rightness of him inside me. Then I remember, we’re on his parents’ hall carpet, screwing like animals.

“Not here,” I demand. “Take me to the bedroom.”

He doesn’t answer or even acknowledge that I’ve spoken. When I push at him, he grabs my hands again and takes both wrists above my head, holding them down against the carpet as he thrusts into me.

He’s soon hitting that spot deep inside me, the one he’s so good at finding, and my hard clit rubs against his pelvis each time he pushes in. I’m beside myself with lust, and soon it’s all I can feel.

I don’t care that I’m on his parents’ carpet in their hallway.

I don’t care that Barnaby, Hana, my father, Ari, Dorian and so many other people have turned my life upside down.

I don’t care that I have no job, and no money, and a ton of student debt.

All I care about is my orgasm. I need it. I chase it. My teeth are clenched together as I ride the very precipice of that high for far too long.

“Please,” I whisper.

Dimitri knows what I want. What I need. He reaches between us with his free hand, pushing it between our bodies, and circles my clit, rubbing it, and I explode.

My back bows up off the floor and hands claw as I come so hard I cry out loud and long.

“Fuuuuck,” Dimitri groans against me.

He finds his release and holds himself deep inside, filling me up.

I come back to earth, sweaty, sticky, and in a torn, useless dress as I push at his chest. “Dimitri, for real, I need to get changed. Oh my God, if your mother saw this.”

“They’re eating out, and I disabled all the security cameras.”

“There are cameras?” I squeak the words out, sounding like I’ve inhaled helium. “What the hell, Dimitri?”

“They’re off. I’ll turn them back on in a bit.” He laughs. Then he gets this goofy smile on his face.

“What?”

“You look so much more relaxed.”

“I am.”

“Admit that was fun.”

“It really was fun. I hate that I like it. I think it makes me a bit fucked up in the head, but it was fun. I especially liked slapping you,” I joke.

He shrugs. “I liked you slapping me.”

“Ha, ha.”

“No, really; it was hot.”

He’s so fucked in the head, but his fucked in the head matches my own.

He pulls me under him, so our faces are lined up and kisses me, giving me his tongue and making me moan again.

He flips me over, and I tense. “What are you?—”

His mouth on my pussy cuts my words off. “Ooh,” I sigh.

He’s sucking at me, licking, eating me alive. He’s so good at this and so into it, I can feel another orgasm building, but he suddenly stops and turns me upright. He kisses my belly, my side, then sucks a nipple into his hot mouth, teasing and torturing me, getting me all on edge all over again. When he pushes two fingers inside me, I arch for him, but he gets a third finger wet in our mixed juices and pushes it into my asshole.

I gasp, and my hands wrap around his arms, holding tight as he fucks me hard and fast in the pussy with two fingers, and keeps his third finger in my ass, filling me there too.

He bends the fingers in my pussy and finds my G-spot. “Come for me again; let me see it,” he urges, his voice low and raw.

The hunger in his gaze, the feral ownership I see simmering there is so erotic that I feel myself bowing to what he wants—what he demands. He owns my body, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

He presses against my G-spot, and I come, clenching against his fingers and holding onto his arms as it carries me out to sea, tossing me around on wild waves, before depositing me back on shore, the storm receding as gorgeous, peaceful calm fills me.

I float, blissed out, as he grabs his cock, hard again, and pumps his fist up and down until he comes with a shout and paints my tits with it. He massages it in and then lies next to me on the floor.

His hand moves back to my pussy after a short while, and I push him gently away. “You broke me; I can’t.”

“You can’t?” he demands.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m all orgasmed out.”

He lifts me up, gathering my torn dress, and carries me with him to the room we’re staying in. “Christ, the quicker we move back to our own home the better,” he grouses. “I need to keep you naked and tied to my bed for a few days, and I can hardly do it here.”

“I’d die of starvation.” I giggle.

“I’d feed you, baby.” He kisses my forehead before gently placing me on the bed. I roll onto my side, and my eyes drift closed.

They jerk open, out of the fog of the half sleep I’d fallen into when I feel his tongue on me. He’s pushed my legs up, so I’m curled right up, and he’s behind me, licking my pussy. I’m a big, fat liar, because I said I couldn’t come again, but something about the way he has me, the position I’m in, it feels wrong in a way I can’t name, and that turns me on.

He sucks my pussy into his mouth and moans, the vibrations going straight to my clit. He moves, and I realize he’s getting behind me, to spoon me, and he pushes into me, hard for a third time. His hands grab my breasts, and he palms and squeezes them as he fucks me slow and gentle, until we’re basically simply rocking together.

He moves one hand from my breasts to flick my clit, and I shatter for the third time. This one is gentler, and it pulls me under until I’m drifting into beautiful nothingness.