Page 50 of Scarred Bratva King

I smile faintly, letting my eyes close as his hands move to my upper back, the pressure just right. “You’re good at this,” I admit reluctantly. “Do you give all your women massages, or am I just special?”

“Just you,” he says, his tone quieter. “And you’re not my woman. You’re my wife.”

I open my eyes at that, glancing back at him. His expression is softer than I’ve ever seen it, his hands still resting on my shoulders as his gaze meets mine.

“Maxim…” I start, unsure of what to say, but he shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t think so much,” he murmurs. “Just breathe and enjoy it.”

“Harder,” I murmur, my voice teasing as I arch my back slightly. I don’t need to look at him to know his eyes are on me, dark and hungry.

I can feel it in the way his hands pause, just for a moment, before digging into my flesh with renewed intensity.

His fingers trace the line of my shoulder blade, and I can’t help but smile.

His hands slide lower, down to the curve of my waist, and I let out a soft sigh. The cool air kisses my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as it roams over me.

I see the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers twitch, and I know I’ve got him right where I want him.

“Get naked,” he says. “It’ll make it easier.”

I do as he says, laying on my front on the towels. He moves behind me, his hands sliding over my back, down to the swell of my ass. He kneads the flesh there, his touch firm but not punishing, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan.

God, he’s good at this.

His hands move lower still, skimming the backs of my thighs before sliding up to my inner thighs. I spread my legs just enough to give him access, and I hear his sharp intake of breath.

“What are you doing, Veronica?” he growls, his voice dangerous.

“Relaxing,” I purr, leaning back into his touch. “Isn’t that what massages are for?”

His fingers brush against my core, and I gasp, my hips arching involuntarily. He doesn’t stop, his fingers teasing me, stroking me until I’m writhing beneath his hands.

I reach behind me, grasping his wrist, but he’s too strong, too determined. His other hand grips my hip, holding me in place as he continues his relentless assault.

I twist around, my eyes locking with his as I reach for his swim shorts. He doesn’t stop me as I pull the fabric down over his hips, freeing his cock.

My fingers wrap around his shaft, and I feel him shudder beneath my touch.

“You’re not the only one who can play games, Maxim,” I say, my voice a sultry whisper as I stroke him slowly. His hips buck against my hand but I pull away, smirking up at him. “Beg for it.”

“I never beg.”

“I’m your wife. You will beg me.”

His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might refuse. But then he leans in, his lips brushing against mine as he whispers, “Please, Veronica. Touch me.”

I smile, reaching for my discarded swimsuit. I tie his hands behind his back, the fabric tight enough to hold him but not enough to hurt.

He doesn’t resist, his eyes never leaving mine as I push him down onto a lounger, straddling him.

My hands roam over his chest, down his stomach, before wrapping around his cock again. I stroke him slowly, teasingly, my lips brushing against his ear.

“Say it again,” I demand, my voice husky with desire.

“Please,” he growls, his hips thrusting up into my hand. “Please, Veronica.”

I don’t make him wait any longer. I sink down onto him, my body enveloping his as I ride him slowly, savoring the feel of him inside me.

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