Page 16 of Obsessed Bratva King

I arch into his touch, my body moving instinctively against his hand. He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through me. “That’s it. Let me hear you.”

“Ivan,” I gasp, my voice breaking as his fingers curl inside me, hitting a spot that makes my legs tremble. “I—I can’t?—”

“Yes, you can,” he says firmly, his other hand gripping my hip to steady me. “You’re going to come again for me, Cora. And when you do, I want you to scream my name.”

His command is impossible to resist. My body tightens, every muscle coiling as the pleasure builds, consuming me. “That’s it,” he says. “Come for me.”

My climax hits with a cry that echoes through the room, his name spilling from my lips like a prayer. “Ivan!”

Well done, my little virgin,” he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. He withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean with a satisfied smirk. “But we’re just getting started.”

Before I can recover, he flips me onto my stomach, his hands gripping my hips as he pulls me up onto my knees. I feel exposed, vulnerable, but also… exhilarated. The anticipation of what’s to come is unbearable.

“I need you to trust me, Cora. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice trembling. I feel him press against me, the heat of his body searing into mine.

“Good girl,” he growls, his hands tightening on my hips. “Relax for me. Let me take care of you.”

And then he’s easing his way inside me. It’s overwhelming, the stretch, the fullness, but also perfect. He moves slowly at first, giving me time to adjust, his hands soothing as they stroke my back.

“That’s it,” he murmurs as he rocks back and forth. “You’re taking me so well. Such a good little virgin for me.”

“Ivan,” I moan, my fingers clawing at the sheets as he picks up the pace. Every thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through me, my body moving in time with his. “It’s so much?—”

“I know,” he says, his voice rough with need. “But you can take it.” He leans over me, his chest pressing against my back as his lips find my ear. “And you’re mine now. Every inch of you belongs to me.”

His words send a shiver through me, and I feel myself tightening around him, my body responding to his dominance in ways I never thought possible.

When he reaches around to rub my clit, I lose all control, my orgasm crashing over me with such intensity that I scream his name again.

He doesn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. “Look at you,” he growls, his voice strained. “So perfect, so tight. I’m going to fill you up, Cora. Mark you as mine.”

And then he’s coming, his body shuddering with the force of it as he spills inside me. The sensation is overwhelming, and I collapse onto the bed, spent and trembling.

His lips press against my forehead as he strokes my hair. “Sleep now, printsessa,” he murmurs. “You’ve earned it.”

The bed shifts as he rises, and the warmth of his body disappears like it was never there at all. I don’t watch him. I won’t. But I hear him. The quiet rustle of fabric as he pulls his pants on, the controlled, efficient movements of a man who is done with me.

"Get some sleep."

His voice is flat. Cool. As if this—we—are nothing more than a transaction that has now been completed.

Something ugly twists in my stomach.

I turn my head, finally looking at him. He stands near the edge of the bed, shirtless, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t meet my gaze. Doesn’t look at me like a man who had his hands on me, his mouth on me, his body against mine.

No, he looks at me like I’m someone he’s already moved past.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

I hate the way my voice comes out. Afraid. Already missing him, relying on him for sleep.

Because I don’t need him.

Because I don’t rely on anyone except myself.

He glances at me, but there’s nothing there. No warmth, no regret, no second thoughts. Just cold certainty.

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