Page 30 of My Bratva Stalker

She moans into me, melting, submitting.

Exactly where she belongs.

I tilt my hips, thrusting up into her.

She gasps, breaking the kiss, fingers gripping my shoulders.

I drag my lips down her throat, over her collarbone, until I reach one perfect nipple.

Then I suck.

Hard.

She cries out, her back arching, pushing more into my mouth.

I growl, lapping, biting, tugging, rolling my tongue over the tight bud before moving to the other.

“You like that?”

She nods frantically, moaning loudly, her body shuddering.

I chuckle darkly against her skin, my cock pulsing inside her.

“You like it when I play with your tits?”

Her walls clench at my dirty talk, her breath stuttering. Fuck, she’s perfect. So fucking responsive. Taking every fucking thing I give her. Coming for me so beautifully. Taking pleasure in my darkness.

I grip her hips, guiding her to move.

“Ride me, baby.”

Marie whines with pleasure and exhaustion, her hands shaking as she presses against my chest for balance.

Slowly, hesitantly, she moves—lifting herself just an inch before sinking back down.

We both groan.

Her tight little body struggling to take me.

But she does. Because she was fucking made for this. For me.

I slide one hand up, collaring her throat, forcing her to meet my gaze.

Her eyes are heavy, glazed, lost in sensations.

I groan, tightening my hold just enough to make her feel it.

“Say it.”

She blinks, her kiss-swollen lips parting.

I thrust up hard, making her gasp.

“Say you belong to me.”

Her nails dig into my chest, her breath uneven.

She doesn’t answer.

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