Page 27 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

Fuck it. “Please, Anton. Take me.”

He needs no further encouragement. One moment there’s space between us, and the next it’s gone. He’s pinning me against the counter, and I don’t care that it’s digging into my lower back; I don’t care about anything other than his insistent mouth on mine. The kiss is everything. The world goes dark around me, and there’s nothing else but his lips parting mine, his tongue stroking and teasing my own.

I missed the taste of him. Topped with whiskey, but beneath that, all Anton. It drives me wild. My hands slide all over his skin, tracing up and down the hard lines of his stomach, around his back, pulling him closer to me like even an inch of space between us is too much.

The kiss deepens, his need just as strong as my own. I suck his lower lip into my mouth and tease it with my teeth as his hands find their favorite grip in my hair. He pulls just enough to make it ache, sending a shock of heat straight between my thighs, and I want this moment to last forever.

It’s such a mistake, but I can’t stop it, don’t want to, and I’m pretty sure my body would revolt if I even tried, so there’s nothing to do but keep going. When he breaks the kiss, it’s just to move down, his mouth on my neck with sharp little nips, hefollows with tender kisses as his fingers make quick work of the buttons on my top.

We’re out of control now. I shrug out of my top and his mouth is there on my nipple is a heartbeat, sucking and swirling his tongue around the peak of it. I rock my hips against his, desperate for friction there, and feel the swell of his cock against me.

“Fuck, Ella,” he moans, on his way to my other nipple and there’s no amount of his touch that’s enough. More. I need more.

He knows it, senses it, and hooks his hands beneath my ass to lift me against him. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me across the kitchen, into the bedroom, never once lifting his mouth from my skin. I’ll be covered in his marks tomorrow, and I don’t care, I just want more of them. More of him.

Anton lays me down on the bed, covering my body with his, capturing my mouth in another deep and needy kiss. I reach between us and trace the length of him through his joggers, but that’s not enough, so I slip my hand beneath him and groan when my hands touch hot, naked skin. His cock is so hard for me, so thick I can barely believe it ever fit before, that it’s going to fit again.

He kisses my stomach, the curve of my hip, working his way down my body and I run my fingers through his hair, tousling those perfect blond waves. Someone who looks like an angel shouldn’t be capable of such sinful things.

“I want you, Anton,” I say again, not caring how much it sounds like begging, how obvious the need is in my voice. “Please, please don’t make me wait.”

The sound he makes, half growl, half moan, sends heat streaking down my spine and I know I’m already soaked for him.There’s nothing more he needs to do. His cock tents the fabric of his joggers and I long for its weight in my hand again, but it’s out of reach now.

“You’re so goddamn perfect,” he says, fingers crawling up my inner thigh way too slowly. I buck my hips impatient, and he holds me down with ease. “You’ve made me wait so long.”

“I’m sorry,” I cry out when his hand slips between my thighs, brushing the fabric that covers my clit. “Please.”

Each time I buck my hips, desperate for more friction, he stops and makes me wait. It’s torture. He wants me desperate, well, I already am. His mouth finds mine again and his fingers move steadily now, slipping beneath my panties to find just how wet I am for him.

“Should it be that easy,” he muses, stroking the length of my pussy, teasing the entrance. “after what you’ve put me through?”

Teasing, tormenting, he brings me close to the edge over and over, drawing back each time my pleasure starts to mount to its peak. I’m losing my mind, fingers scratching down his back, through his hair, my teeth on his lip, his jaw, his neck. If I could reach his dick, tease him back, maybe he’d give in, but he’s got me pinned down, at his mercy.

“I need you. I need you to fuck me.” One thrust and I’ll cum, that’s how close he has me.

He takes pity on me, lets me reach for the fabric of his joggers so I can yank them down and free his cock. Precum beads at the tip. Grabbing my hips, he drags me down to the edge of the bed and rips my panties off, then pauses to drink in the sight of me. I squirm under his heavy gaze.

“I’m going to give you all of it,” he promises, lining the tip of his cock up with my entrance. “And you’re going to take it all like a good girl. Every inch.”

I nod eagerly and brace myself, fisting my hands in the blankets. He pushes inside, just the first inch, and I gasp at the way I’m forced to stretch. He’s so thick. But I want it all.

“More,” I demand.

He groans and thrusts forward, sinking the rest of his cock inside of me with a single thrust. So deep. I can’t think straight, can only twist my hips to urge him on, but he needs no urging, already moving, his hands digging into my hips to keep me at the perfect angle for his driving thrusts.

“You’re so tight for me.” He pulls nearly all the way back out, making me feel every inch again, before slamming back inside of me. He’s brutal, holding nothing back, the bed creaking with the force of him. “God, you feel so good.”

The pace he sets is brutal, and it’s all I can do to hold on. He lifts my legs so he can slide even deeper, taking us both right to the edge. I’ll have bruises on my hips from the force of his grip, his fingers tightening as his breathing grows ragged. Nothing has ever felt this good.

I scratch my nails down his back, pulling him closer, the friction between us so sweet it aches. He slows just long enough to kiss me, catching my lips and sinking his teeth into my lower lip. The nip of pain makes me gasp with pleasure.

I’m close, so close. He thrusts again, driving me into the bed, and the ache of taking all of him is replaced by a deep, intense pleasure that takes me in waves.

“Oh god, Anton,” I moan out, past the point of caring if anyone can hear us through the walls.

Each time we come together, I brace to meet him, over and over. It’s a bruising pace that’ll leave me sore tomorrow, but somehow, I just want more of it. More of him.

Reading my mind, he hooks one of my knees beneath his arm and uses that new angle to drive even deeper, hitting my clit with every earth-shattering thrust. One more and I’m done. I drive him on with a twist of my hips and I’m there, clutching at his back as pleasure hits me in tidal waves.

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