Page 33 of Innocently Captured By the Bratva

“I can’t,” I whisper, sliding my leg completely through the slit.

His eyes roam over my body. “You’re going to be the death of me, you hear that?”

I open my mouth to say something—anything—but the words die on my lips as he kisses me again. I quickly undo every button on his shirt. God, I need to take off his coat, need to remove that shirt, need him naked above me. The back of the limo be damned.

“Mark,” I moan into his mouth, biting his lower lip. In response, he slides his hand up between my thighs. Slowly, agonizingly. I part my legs, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake until he reaches the apex.

My body jerks when he dips his fingers under the lace edge of my panties and lets it slap back against my skin. His touch is electric, sending shivers racing down my spine. God, how I want him. I've ached for him since that first heated kiss on the dance floor, and now, here we are, alone in the back of a limousine, our restraint hanging by a thread.

I moan, arching my hips into his touch, abandoning any pretense of resistance. The next thing I know, he has my panties sliding down my legs.

“Open up for me,” he commands, and this time, I don’t bristle at his tone. His voice is thick with desire, his warm breath tickling my ear as I comply. I revel in the thrill of being wanted like this, my body responding eagerly to his touch despite the cloud of alcohol lingering in my system.

When his fingers begin to tease my folds in torturous exploration, I clutch his lower back, begging for more. Slowly, he slides a finger through my slit, before slamming it into me. I gasp, my hands falling down from his back, nails now digging into the leather seat beneath me.

He teases, taunts, and drives me wild with desire. When he curves his finger and taps against my clit from inside, my head spins, the world reduced to the feel of his fingers inside me. The way he knows just where to touch to make me break apart.

“God,” he moans into my ear. “You’re so wet.” Then, he takes to my neck, sucking at it. I throw my head back just as he picks up the pace, adds another finger, and circles them inside me.

I buck off the chair as his fingertips hit that one sweet spot. “Right there,” I moan, breathily.

I feel his own breath hitch in his throat as he pounds me relentlessly, just where I want it. I feel a small spark emerge, ready to burn through my body. I’m teetering on the edge of orgasm, my moans taking over the car.

“Cum,” he commands. “Let me watch you cum, Quinn.”

The way he says it sets me alive. I close my eyes and grip the seat, and the wave begins to take its route. I see slivers of light, can hear the blood pound in my ear, and then, the most beautiful high washes over me as I cum to the tune of his fingers, my muscles clenching tight around him, my legs trembling beneath him.

He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my neck until the last wave of pleasure subsides. I’m exhausted, drained, yet so desperately hungry for him.

Without thinking, I reach for his belt. He slides his fingers out from my pussy, and reaches to help me with the belt before coming back in for a kiss. I let out a sigh.

He stops, his hand reaching for mine, preventing me from loosening the buckle. I whimper in protest, my eyes flying open to meet his. “You've been drinking,” he says, his voice alow growl. The tension in the car spikes again, this time with a different kind of energy.

I blink, caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor. “I had a few Martinis at the party,” I try to argue, my voice defensive. What’s it to you?”

He rakes a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching. “I don't want you making decisions you'll regret in the morning, Quinn. Not when it comes to this, to us.”

In one swift motion, he gets off me and gently pulls down my dress until the hem is back at my ankles.

I swallow hard, my mind reeling as I try to process what just happened.

Chapter 14 - Mark

The next morning, I stand at the entrance to the dining room, and my heart immediately goes into overdrive when I spot Quinn at the breakfast table. Thoughts of her kept me up all night, the way she moaned when I had my fingers all up in her, the way she arched her back for more, the way her long, creamy legs beckoned to be parted. Fuck. I’m in over my head as the same ravenous desire I had for her last night resurfaces.

I walk in and take my seat. She looks up, her green eyes meeting mine briefly before darting away. The memory of last night floods my senses—her soft skin against mine, the intoxicating scent of her hair. I clear my throat.

“Morning,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual.

Quinn nods, focusing intently on her coffee mug. “Morning.” She doesn’t say anything more.

“Can I have the butter?” I ask, and she reaches for it, passing it to me without looking in my direction. I wonder what she’s thinking about, whether last night felt as good for her as it did for me.

All night, I thought about her and what our little escapade meant for us. There’s no doubt in my mind that I want her, but based on how she’s acting—cold and distant—maybe she thinks I don’t feel that way.

“Quinn,” I say to clear any doubts she might have about how I feel and make my intentions clear. “About last night—”

“About last night...” she cuts me off, biting her lower lip. “It was a mistake. We shouldn't have—it can't happen again.”

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