Page 51 of Scarred Bratva King

He groans, his hands tugging at the makeshift restraints, but I don’t let up, my hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has him begging for more.

I grind down onto him, my nails digging into his chest. His hands strain against the fabric of my swimming costume, the makeshift bindings holding him captive.

I can see the frustration in his eyes, the way his body tenses, desperate to break free. But I like him like this—powerless, at my mercy, begging for me.

But then, something changes. His muscles coil beneath me, and before I can react, he snaps the fabric. His hands are free, and in one swift motion, he flips us.

My back hits the edge of the pool, the cool tile pressing into my skin as he pins me there. His body is a solid wall of heat, his chest heaving as he stares down at me.

His eyes are dark, furious, and yet, there’s a hunger there that makes my stomach clench.

“You think you can tie me up and make me beg?” he growls. His hands grip my wrists, pinning them above my head.

I arch into him, unafraid, my lips curving into a smirk. “And yet, you’re the one who begged,” I taunt, my voice breathy. “Begged your wife.”

His eyes narrow, and then his mouth is on mine, claiming me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless.

His tongue plunges into my mouth, and I moan, my body melting against his. His hips press into mine, and I can feel how hard he is, how much he wants me. But he doesn’t give in, not yet.

He pulls back, his lips trailing down my neck, sucking and biting until I’m squirming beneath him.

“Maxim,” I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Do it.”

He chuckles, the sound predatory. “Say please,” he demands, his teeth grazing my collarbone.

“No,” I hiss, my voice defiant even as my body betrays me, arching into his touch.

He lifts his head, his eyes locking onto mine. “Say it.”

I glare at him, but there’s no real heat in it. My body is already on fire, already aching for him. “Please,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.

His grin is triumphant, and then he’s thrusting into me, hard, his cock filling me completely. I cry out, my nails scraping down his back as he begins to move, his hips slamming into mine with a rhythm that has me seeing stars.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with desire. “Take it, my wife. Take me.”

I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper, our bodies moving together in a desperate, frenzied motion.

His hands slide down my body, gripping my hips, holding me in place as he fucks me with a possessive intensity that leaves me breathless. He’s not gentle, not now. He’s feral, and I love it.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. “Mine.”

I moan, my head falling back as pleasure crashes over me in waves. His fingers find my clit, rubbing in tight, deliberate circles, and I’m gone, my body shattering as I come around him.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. Instead, he drives into me harder, chasing his own release with a desperation that has me crying out his name again and again.

And then he’s coming, his body tensing as he spills inside me, his growl loud and possessive. He collapses against me, his chest heaving, his breath warm against my skin.

“I could get used to these massages,” I say, kissing him hungrily. “Seven out of ten though. Must try harder next time.”

24

VERONICA

Isprawl on the couch, my legs curled under me, my head resting against Maxim’s shoulder.

I tell myself it’s because the couch cushions are too stiff, not because I’m gravitating toward him. His warmth is distracting, but I’m not about to admit that.

He hasn’t moved or complained, though I swear I catch him sneaking glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

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