Page 20 of Married to the Bratva

"Fuck, you feel so good," he grunts, his hips snapping against mine with each thrust. "So tight... perfect."

His dirty talk fuels my arousal, sending waves of pleasure crashing over me. I cling to him, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he pounds into me, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

"Maxim... I'm gonna come..." I warn, my voice breaking with emotion.

"Not yet," he says, his voice firm. "I want you to wait for it."

With that, he pulls out of me abruptly, leaving me whimpering with frustration. He spins me around, forcing me to kneel down on all fours on the bed, my face pressed against the cool sheets. His hand lands on my ass with a sharp smack, making me yelp.

"Don't move," he orders, sliding back into me from behind.

This position feels even more intense, his balls slapping against my clit with each thrust. I bite my lip, trying to hold back my orgasm as I stroke myself frantically, but it's no use. His relentless pounding pushes me right to the brink.

"Maxim, please... I can't hold back..." I plead, my voice trembling.

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice thick with lust. "Scream my name."

I explode around him, my entire body shuddering with the force of my climax. I call out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over me.

He follows soon after, burying himself deep inside me as he comes with a roar, his seed filling me up as he pulses all the way inside me. We collapse together, panting and sweaty, our bodies still entwined.

"Goddamn, Sophie," he mutters, his voice hoarse. "I could get used to that."

His arm drapes over my waist, his breathing steady and deep against my shoulder. The weight of him, the warmth of him—it’s good in a way that feels dangerous. Like I could get used to it too.

I should feel guilty. Or scared. Or angry. But all I feel is quiet.

He shifts beside me, his arm tightening around me slightly, and I glance over at him. His face is softer as he drifts off to sleep, the hard lines smoothed away, and for a moment, hedoesn’t look like the Bratva boss who kidnapped me. He just looks human.

I let my eyes close, the rhythm of his breathing pulling me under. No, I mustn’t sleep.

I force myself to my feet, slipping into the clothes he brought me, his cum soaking my panties as it leaks from me.

I look down at him.

I could get back into bed, fall asleep in his arms, work out a way to decrypt that file, get him his money back. Take the twenty million, trust that he won’t do the same as every other man in this world, won’t fuck me over.

Or I could leave and pray he doesn’t come after me. He said he had other experts to unlock that file. He doesn’t need me. A one night stand is probably something he’s done hundreds of times.

He won’t hunt me. He’ll have dozens of women to choose from, all of them far richer than me. What have I got to offer a man like him? That’s even if I could ignore the fact he’s a stone cold killer.

I look at him again. God, I want to snuggle in next to him more than anything, let his arms hold me tight, make me feel safe.

“Goodbye,” I whisper as I cross to the door. “Maxim.”

15

SOPHIE

Three weeks later…

The smell of coffee and lavender greets me as I step into the kitchen.

Grandma is at the counter, shuffling through a stack of papers, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

The clatter of her walker echoes as she moves between the sink and the small round table in the corner.

“You’re up early,” she says without looking up, her tone casual but tinged with concern. “What was it? Shit the bed?”

---