Page 46 of My Bratva Stalker

Her breath shatters with frustration. From knowing she never had a fucking chance.

Her chest heaves against mine, her legs locked between my thighs, her hips shifting just enough to remind me how soft she is, how well she fucking fits me.

“Get off me!”

I tilt my head, watching her emotions flicker across her face—anger, need, confusion.

“No.”

She growls, thrashing again.

My girl is stronger than she looks, but not stronger than me.

I don’t even move. Just let her tire herself out.

Her eyes burn into mine, lips trembling, body still sore, still aching from everything I did to her.

I press my forehead to hers, inhaling slow and deep.

“Why do you keep fighting, printsessa? You know how this ends.”

She shivers, pressing her lips tight.

I hum, dragging my nose down her jaw, brushing my lips against her ear.

“You were made for me, baby. You think you can resist? After I’ve already had you? After you’ve already come apart for me over and over?”

Her body tenses, thighs squeezing together, heat rolling off her in waves.

God, she’s perfect.

“You think I don’t feel it?” I whisper, sliding a hand down her ribs, grazing her soft belly.

She moans, but shakes her head.

I chuckle, slipping lower.

“Liar.”

I grip her bare thigh, pulling it over my hip, pressing my cock against her slick, swollen folds.

She gasps, nails wickedly digging into my arms. And I groan, reveling in the pain.

I rock against her, slow and teasing, dragging my thick length against her clit.

She chokes on a breath, her head falling back.

So fucking responsive.

Her body remembers even if she tries to pretend.

Even when she tries to fight it.

“Hate me all you want,” I murmur, trailing my lips down her throat, sucking her pulse into my mouth.

I grind against her, pressing deep, sliding between her wet pussy lips without entering.

She shudders, her body arching into mine.

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