Page 57 of Unexpected Bratva Baby

He slips his hand between us, finding my clit and rubbing it in quick, firm circles. That’s all it takes to send me spiraling over the edge, screaming his name against his chest as I come apart in his arms. My pussy clamps down on his cock, milking him as he continues to pound into me.

My climax triggers his, and he buries his face in my neck, muffling his shout of release. His cock pulses inside me, filling me with his seed as he bites down on the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder.

We hold each other, riding out the storm of our shared passion. When it’s over, he sets me gently on my feet, steadying me when my knees threaten to buckle. He kisses me softly, tenderly, before helping me straighten my clothes and righting his own. He’s grinning, and my lips are stretched in a wide smile.

With a laugh, he says, “I take it you like the shop?”

I nod. “Very much. I’ll have to show you several more times.” I grab his tie and tug him closer for a long, soulful kiss.

When we finally part, both breathless, he rests his forehead against mine. “I love you, Phoebe,” he says softly. “You and our child are my future. Everything I do, I do for you.”

My heart swells with emotion. “I love you too, Mikhail. All of you, even the parts that scare me sometimes.”

He pulls back slightly, his expression serious. “I promise I will always protect you and our family. No matter what.”

I nod, believing him with every fiber of my being. “I know you will.”

We leave the shop hand in hand as though we didn’t just fuck like animals in the corner, and his cum isn’t leaking down my thigh, strolling through the vibrant streets of Little Havana.

“Tell me about your plans for the shop,” he says.

I laugh, my mind already spinning with ideas. “Oh, where do I even start? I want to have a section for traditional Scottish goods—tartans, kilts, and maybe even some handcrafted jewelry, and of course, a selection of the finest Scotch whiskies.”

Mikhail chuckles. “Of course. We can’t forget the whisky.”

“And I was thinking,” I continue, warming to the subject, “We could have a small performance space for music and storytelling. Maybe host ceilidhs on weekends.”

“Ceilidhs?” he asks, his brow contracting in confusion.

“Traditional Scottish social gatherings. There’s music, dancing, and storytelling. It’s a celebration of culture and community.”

Mikhail nods. “It sounds wonderful. I look forward to experiencing it.”

We turn a corner, and the aroma of fresh Cuban coffee fills the air. Mikhail steers us toward a small café, its outdoor seating area bustling with patrons. “Shall we sit?” he asks. “I’d love to hear more about your plans.”

I nod eagerly, and he pulls out a chair for me before taking his own seat. A waiter appears almost immediately, and he orders for us in fluent Spanish.

As we wait for our drinks, I rest my elbows on the table. “I’ve been thinking about the cooking classes too. I could expand them to offer more variety. Not just Scottish cuisine, but maybe a fusion of Scottish and Russian dishes. What do you think?”

He grins. “I think it’s brilliant. A perfect representation of our two worlds coming together.”

His words warm me from the inside out. Our two worlds. Despite the danger, despite the challenges, we’re building something together. Something beautiful and unique.

The waiter returns with our coffee, which makes my mouth water. I take a sip, savoring the bold flavor before saying, “Things have been complicated lately, with Valdés and everything else, but I want you to know, I am all in. We’ll make this work.”

“Yes.” He kisses my hand, and it feels like sealing a promise, not just a sign of affection.

20

Mikhail

Istand at the window of my command center, overlooking the glittering Miami skyline. The city pulses with energy, unaware of the storm about to break. My plan, meticulously crafted over weeks, is finally in motion.

“Sir, the team is in position,” says Sergei, sounding completely calm.

I nod, turning to face the room. Monitors line the walls, displaying various camera feeds and data streams. My most trusted captains gather around a large table, their faces etched with anticipation. “Begin the operation.”

Sergei relays the command, and the room erupts into controlled chaos as the cameras show our teams’ movements. The teams move with precision, intercepting Valdés’ prized shipment, and the hijacking is swift and brutal, leaving no room for error. It’s just one facet of our multipronged attack. I wantValdés surrounded by chaos and having even his inner circle questioning his competence by dawn.

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