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And while he can be strong and firm, I’ve found that he’s also capable of incredible softness, something I’d never expect from a Bratva boss.
“You’re so wet for me,” he comments as he pulls into an empty drive-through lane at a well-known chain of coffee shops.
I am wet, but I don’t want the person taking our order to know, so I pull his hand out from between my legs, flashing a polite smile. “I don’t want anyone else but you to know.”
“Fair enough,” he replies, putting his hand back on the wheel and wiggling his fingers again. “But once we have a little more privacy, I’m going to teach you a lesson for being such a little slut.”
My heart skips a beat, but Pasha remains cool and collected as we pull up to the drive-through window. “An iced coffee… decaf. And a double espresso.”
“Not decaf,” I grumble, giving him a light elbow.
He ignores me. “Yes, that will be all. Thank you.”
The window closes and he looks back over to me. “You’re looking at a double punishment today.”
“I don’t want decaf,” I whine, but I’d be disappointed if he relented. His sternness is comforting because it’s so consistent and predictable. Without him, I’d be spiraling out of control again, but as it stands, it’s been days since I’ve done coke.
And I guess caffeine is on his no-no list too, because he refuses to let me have any.
“You’d better get used to this,” he says, laying a hand across my belly. “I want our baby to be happy and healthy.”
I cross my legs to satiate the incredible arousal I feel at his assertive tone. I want his hand pressed between my thighs again, stroking me as he tells me what I’m allowed to do. I hate it, but I want to cum every time he makes a new rule for me to follow.
My cheeks are still sore from how he spanked me last night. I wonder if he’s going to do that again, or if he has something else in store. My imagination goes wild as he rolls down his window again to receive our coffee and espresso.
He hands me a tall plastic cup that resembles my usual choice in coffee, condensation dripping between my fingers as I accept it. I know decaf still has a bit of caffeine in it, but it’s not nearly enough to be satisfying.
As he pulls forward, I eye the small paper cup in his hand with palpable envy. Why does he get to do anything he wants, and I have all these rules to follow? It hardly seems fair.
He takes a sip of his drink, pretending not to notice how I’m looking at him as he continues down the road. He’s so relaxed, so sure of himself that it almost makes me sick. How can someone be so content when there’s so much going on in the world? He doesn’t appear to care about anything.
I take a sip of my coffee, making a show over how much I don’t like it until he looks over at me. I wrinkle my nose, shaking my head as I pull the straw from my mouth.
“Something wrong?” he asks.
“Gross. Just no caffeine. Doesn’t taste the same.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t like it when you cause trouble like this, Valerie. I thought we talked about it last night.”
“We talked about cocaine, not caffeine. Those are two totally different things.”
“Not when you’re pregnant,” he replies. “They’re both dangerous.”
I scoff. “I’m not pregnant, Pasha. We had sex once.”
“And are you on birth control?” he asks, his eyes shifting over to me as he stops at a red light.
I narrow my eyes at him, taking another sip of my coffee without answering.
“Exactly,” he says smugly. “If there’s even the slightest possibility of a pregnancy, then we must be careful.”
“I’m not a careful woman,” I reply in the snarkiest way I can muster.
His jaw clenches, and he shifts gears hard as the light turns green. “No, you’re not careful, and it’s going to get you into a world of trouble.”
“How so?” I challenge.
He grabs my thigh, sinking his fingers deep into my skin before sliding his hand all the way up to my panties. As he’s driving, he pulls my panties to the side, pushing two fingers into my wetness.
