Page 25 of My Bratva Stalker

“And I’m not letting a drop go to waste.”

My legs nearly give out, my body too weak, too overwhelmed.

He catches me.

He always catches me.

His hands slide over my stomach, up to my breasts, cupping, kneading, rolling my nipples between his fingers.

I moan, my head dropping back against his chest.

The water streams over us, but all I feel is him.

His strength. His heat. His need.

The way he won’t stop touching me, won’t stop claiming me. Kissing and biting my neck, turning my face to take my mouth.

He groans, thick and low.

“Not fucking done with you, baby.”

My breath catches.

His grip tightens.

He tilts my chin, forces me to meet his gaze.

Then he smirks.

And says the words that make my stomach drop.

“Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

Viktor

She obeys.

Of course she does.

She turns, her hands pressing to the slick tiles, her big ass round and perfect, trembling as she waits.

For me.

For my command.

For me to own her completely.

I step forward, letting my chest press against her back, my cock nestling between her juicy cheeks.

My hands glide down her spine, smoothing over her waist, gripping her hips.

She shudders, whimpering at my touch.

I nuzzle against the damp curls at her nape, my lips dragging over her skin.

“Gonna take it slow, baby.”

Her breath catches.

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