Page 50 of Bratva Hostage

My panties are the only thing left, and they’re soaked through with my arousal. He wants them off, and so do I. But when my hands go to the edge of the waistband, his grip closes over mine.

“Allow me,” he growls.

I bite my lip, trying to keep my composure as his hands move over my hips and the fabric begins to slide down. The thong bunches at the tops of my thighs, and his fingertips stroke the sensitive skin.

“You’re already so wet.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before his fingers dip between my thighs, and a ragged groan escapes his throat. “So wet.”

I can’t respond. I’m too distracted by the feeling of his hand cupping my sex and the tips of his fingers dipping into the slickness of my folds. He spreads the wetness, and a whimper slips from my lips. He chuckles darkly.

“That’s right, Cecily. Let me hear how much you want this.”

His fingers slide over my clit, and the sensation makes my knees buckle. He keeps going, circling and stroking, until my breathing is ragged and my legs are trembling. He presses the tip of his finger into my opening, and the pressure makes me nearly collapse.

“Dimitri…”

“Yes?”

“Please…”

He laughs. “Begging already? I like the sound of that.”

I moan as his finger sinks into me, and his palm grinds against my clit. My hips start moving, matching the rhythm of his hand, and he lets out a growl.

“Fuck, Cecily. Your pussy feels so fucking good. I can’t wait to fuck you.”

The image is enough to make me moan, and the noise only spurs him on. He starts pumping his finger, and the friction is intense. I can feel an orgasm building, and the thought of coming on his hand, just like this, is almost enough to send me over the edge.

But just before I do, he stops.

His fingers slip from my pussy, and the absence of his touch is almost painful. I’m on the edge, and I need to come. Badly. But he’s not going to give it to me. Not yet.

Instead, he turns me around to face him and hoists me up, setting me down on the table. The wood is cold and smooth against my bare ass.

“Spread your legs,” he commands.

I do, and he positions himself between them. I can feel the hard ridge of his erection, straining against his pants. He grabs my hips and yanks me forward, until I’m on the edge, teetering and exposed.

My hands land on his shoulders for support, and his grey eyes blaze into mine. His hands are moving up and down the outside of my thighs, and I can feel the callouses on his palms. He’s so strong. So powerful. And right now, he’s focused entirely on me.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

Instead of answering, I reach for his belt, tugging the leather strap free. My fingers work quickly, undoing the buttons and zipper and sliding his pants down his hips. His boxers follow, and when he literally tears his shirt off, he’s standing before me, naked and powerful and hard as a rock. The tip is glistening with precum, and I have the urge to lean forward and taste it. I’m transfixed.

He strokes the length, and I watch, mesmerized, as his hand moves up and down. Then, his other hand cups my face and tilts my head up.

“Cecily. Look at me.”

I blink, tearing my eyes away from his cock. When I look up, the expression on his face is smoldering.

“I’m going to fuck you. Right here. Right now. And I want to look in your eyes when I do it.”

My heart thunders in my chest, and I swallow hard. “Okay.”

“Do you want that?”

I nod.

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