Page 17 of My Bratva Stalker

Her hips shift, searching, desperate, needy.

I chuckle darkly against her ear.

“So fucking greedy, printsessa.”

She whines, gasping when I sink one thick finger inside her.

Fuck.

So fucking tight.

Her walls clench, pulse, struggle to take me.

I groan, pressing deeper, stretching her open.

Her head tips back.

Her fingers clutch my arms, thighs twitching.

And I know.

She’s not ready for my cock.

Not yet.

But she will be.

Because I’m going to get her ready.

I add another finger.

She moans, high-pitched, breathless.

Her pussy flutters, struggling, trying to take more.

I curl my fingers, pressing against a spot that makes her jolt.

Her body locks up.

A cry breaks from her lips.

I groan against her throat, sucking a bruise into her soft skin.

“That’s it, baby. Take it.”

She whimpers, her pussy gripping me, sucking my fingers deeper.

I push faster, harder, stretching her, preparing her.

She tries to move away, her body too sensitive, fucking overwhelmed.

I growl. Grip her hips. Hold her still.

“You need this.”

She gasps, shaking her head.

I bite her shoulder, forcing another cry from her throat.

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