Page 73 of Forbidden Bratva Virgin

Then he cupped my pussy, fisted it in his hands, and looked me in the eyes with a gaze darker than any brewing storm. “This fucking belongs to me, you hear? This gorgeous pussy, your tits, your ass, and your succulent lips. They’re mine, you understand?”

The pressure of his hands between my legs made me barely able to respond, so I managed a quick nod, moaning when his fingers rolled against my clit.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, my pussy, my ass, my tits, and my lips are yours, Miron.

“Good.” His fingers left almost immediately, and I missed them. Kissing my neck, he grunted. “Ready?”

I nodded, and he brought me down, covering my mouth to drink up the slow, steady moans that poured from my lips when his cock stretched my walls.

My body burned like a wildfire ignited by his touch, consuming me inch by inch. It was an all-consuming blaze that licked up my spine, curled around my ribs, and settled deep in my core. Every brush of his skin against mine sent another spark, another rush of fire that spread through my veins like molten lava.

My hands flew to his shoulder, biting into his T-shirt, and his hot breath fanned my neck.

His fingers slid through my scalp, grabbing a fistful of my hair as I rode him, cautiously at first, unsure what to do and what pace he wanted. I searched his eyes, and he moved his head, urging me to go faster. Increasing my tempo, I pressed my face against his throat to stifle the small sounds I made and sucked the skin.

He jerked his hips, his nails leaving my scalp and digging into my back as he thrust faster. He moved with purpose, his touch both hard and possessive, stoking the flames higher, hotter.

My breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, my nails digging into his skin to anchor myself against the inferno threatening to consume me completely.

I arched above him, feeling my body surrendering to the scorching pleasure, my world narrowing to the way he felt, the way he moved, the way he made me burn.

Tremors broke out on my skin, shivers journeying through my body like electricity, until I felt my toes curl. He exhaled, and I inhaled. Our lips joined, and our breathing intertwined.

“Oh,Miron,” I groaned. “I’m coming.”

“Yes,” Russian. “Baby, I’m—” More Russian.

This time, I came first, bursting like a million shooting stars in the sky, with a shout that startled me. The fire finally exploded, and it was nothing short of an inferno, blinding, overwhelming, leaving nothing but raw, unfiltered sensation in its wake.

I held onto him; he was almost there, but not quite. So, I let him take as much of me as he wanted, enjoying the sweet ways he placed kisses on my face and lips. Gripping the couch behind him as he spread my ass even wider, slamming into me with determination, plunging into me with trembling fingers and feverish lips.

God, he was so beautiful, my heart clenched. I raised myself, moved my hips, and matched his rhythm, riding his cock with all the love I could give, allowing myself to show him just how much I wanted him without using words.

I took my time, savoring every inch of him, every shuddering breath, every heavy groan. And when he finally gave himself over to the pleasure, I followed again, lost in him, in us, in the quiet promise that I would always be here, holding him together even when the world tried to break us apart.

Epilogue – Miron

Three Months Later

“I can’t say I ever thought this would be a match at all, let alone a match made in heaven.” Amelia shot me a knowing glance over her shoulder. She knew I could overhear her conversation with Hazel, who stood before her with the most solemn expression I had ever seen on her face.

“I am disappointed,” Amelia was saying. “Not because you fell in love. I am disappointed that you didn’t open up to me. We would have found a more professional approach to it and….”

The rest of Amelia’s words got lost when Damien tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around to see his lips curve into a smirk. He adjusted his jacket and looked briefly above my shoulder, where Amelia stood with Hazel.

“I see her now, and I understand why you were willing to sacrifice an arm. If I were you, I might have sacrificed both.”

“Idiot.” We shared a smile.

“Seriously, though. It’s good to have you back, nursed to full recovery and strong enough to deal with my bullshit.”

“Where’s Damir?”

“Somewhere, doing God knows what? I don’t know. Miron, what do you say: me, you, and a vacation? You look like you need one—the beach, the sun.”

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