Page 10 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

My strokes got rougher, faster, until I came hard.

After the release, clarity returned. What the hell was I doing? Fantasizing about a girl half my age—my shithead brother's ex—riding me? And I just jerked off to it?

I splashed cold water on my face, thoughts spinning.

She wasn't a good choice. The second I found out about her and Makar, I should've stopped. But I didn't. I told myself Makar didn't deserve her, that they should've broken up anyway.

This was insane.

It had to end. I'd go out there, tell her she was drunk, and I'd be a gentleman and take her home. That would be the end of it.

I left the bathroom and headed back to the booth—only to see a man in a white suit standing there, drink in hand. Briony was laughing with him, and my vision went tight.

Why the fuck did I leave her alone?

I said the booth was safe. But there he was—some stranger next to Briony. My jaw clenched. I was sure she didn't know this guy. He had that lazy, player smile—the kind of playboy Briony wouldn't go for.

But they looked like old friends. My chest ached.

The man sat down next to her, draping his arm over her shoulder. She didn't push him away. She just smiled brighter.

I sped up, getting there before things went further.

Only then did I get a good look at the bastard. Messy curls, neat scruff, sculpted features. A sharp sense of threat hit me. He was the type young girls liked.

"Don't touch her." I stopped myself from throwing him out. "She's with me."

The man pulled back slightly when he saw me, but that smug grin stayed put.

"Sir, you should respect a lady's wishes." His English was thick with an Italian accent. "I think the lady's enjoying my company."

He put his hand back on her shoulder.

I looked at Briony, desperate for her to say no. Instead, she smiled—sly and sharp.

"I agree." Her voice was lazy. "I think this handsome, interesting gentleman and I are getting along just fine."

She was punishing me for leaving her—she should. She should punish any man who tried to resist her. But knowing it was me? My throat burned.

"Looks like I win." The guy raised his glass at me, taunting.

Fuck that. Briony wasn't his prize. I had to do something.

I grabbed his collar and hauled him up. His hand fell off Briony's shoulder.

"Keep harassing her and I'll break you. Then I'll throw you out of my place." My voice carried weight—enough to make anyone surrender.

His Adam's apple bobbed. Fear crept into his eyes.

"You're—Mr. Petrov? I didn't know—"

"Get out." I shoved him away before he finished.

He crawled off, apologizing, all his swagger gone.

"I thought you weren't coming back." Briony's voice was light and soft from the alcohol.

She held an empty glass, the blush on her face spreading to her ears.