Page 49 of My Bratva Stalker

I completely shatter.

Viktor

She’s still trembling. Wrecked.

My cock is still buried inside her, still twitching, still claiming her even after she came so fucking hard for me.

Her eyes are different now. Wide. Unsure. Like she’s realizing—finally, fucking finally— that there’s no way out.

Like she thinks she should want to run again. But she knows she can’t. Won’t.

And God, it’s beautiful.

She tries to push me away, her palms flat against my chest.

But I don’t move. Don’t fucking budge.

I let her fight for a few seconds, then I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head, watching her breath stutter.

“Talk to me, printsessa.”

She swallows, her gaze darting away.

“I—You never gave me a choice, Viktor.”

I shake my head slowly. “No. I didn’t.”

Her breath catches, like she was expecting me to deny it.

Sweet little thing. Still thinking she can reason with a man like me.

She squeezes her eyes shut for a second.

“I was terrified, Viktor.”

I feel something sharp twist in my gut. Not regret. Not guilt. But something dark. Twisted. Something that makes my cock throb inside her again.

She was scared of me. And I fucking love it. I don’t tell her that, though. I’m not that unhinged. I just tilt her chin up, press my lips to her pulse, feel it race under my mouth.

“You should be scared of me, baby. But you’re still here. You still took my cock. You still moaned my fucking name.”

Marie shudders, shaking her head, but she’s not denying it out loud.

I bite her throat, licking over the mark.

“You belong to me, sweetheart. You always have.”

Her lips tremble.

I press my forehead to hers, inhaling her scent, my voice dropping to a growl.

“I already told your father.”

Her body stiffens. Then she blinks up at me.

I grin. “About our wedding.”

She gasps, her fingers curling into my shoulders.

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