Page 91 of Bratva Boss's Secret Baby

He doesn’t stop or give me time to recover. Instead, he continues his gentle assault until I’m shaking and sobbing, my body hypersensitive and desperate for more. Only when I’m completely wrung out does he finally lift his head, his lips glistening as he moves up my body with predatory grace.

“You’re so beautiful when you come,” he whispers against my throat, his voice rough with barely contained need.

“I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

When he finally positions himself between my thighs, we both go still for a moment. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, and I can feel how much control he’s exerting to go slowly.

“Please,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer.

He slides inside me inch by inch, his jaw clenched with restraint. I’m still sensitive from his mouth, and the feeling of him filling my pussy makes me gasp and dig my nails into his shoulders. When he’s fully seated, we both breathe heavily, overwhelmed by the intensity of being connected again.

“I love you,” he whispers against my ear as he begins to move with slow, deliberate strokes. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”

“I love you too. Always, even when I wanted to strangle you.”

We move together with desperate tenderness, each thrust a promise and an apology and a claim of ownership that goes both ways. His cock fills me completely, stretching me in ways that make me gasp and cling to his shoulders for anchor points. The rhythm we find is unhurried, focused more on connection than release, though the pleasure builds steadily between us.

He shifts the angle slightly, and I cry out. “Right there,” I say, arching to meet him. “Don’t stop.”

“Never.” He maintains that perfect rhythm while his mouth finds mine again. “I’ll never stop loving you, never stop protecting you, and never stop choosing you over everything else.”

The words push me closer to the edge, though it’s the emotion behind them that threatens to undo me completely. This isn’t just sex. It’s a claiming and a promise of forever sealed with sweat and breath and the perfect friction of our bodies moving together.

When my climax builds again, he watches my face with fascination, like he’s memorizing every expression that crosses my features. His own control is starting to fray, and I see the effort it takes for him to maintain the slow pace when his body is demanding more.

“Let go,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his throat. “I want to feel you lose control.”

His rhythm falters, becoming more urgent as he thrusts harder and faster. The change in pace sends me spiraling toward my own climax, and when he reaches between us to touch my clit, ittakes only a couple of strokes before I shatter around him with a cry.

“That’s it. So beautiful.” He grunts and continues thrusting.

The orgasm tears through me with enough force to make me see stars, and my inner muscles clench around his cock as pleasure touches every nerve ending. He follows me over the edge seconds later, going rigid as he spills his seed inside me with a groan.

Afterward, we lie tangled together while our breathing slowly returns to normal. I trace the scar on his shoulder from an old bullet wound, then map the fresh bruises on his ribs from his fight with Vadim. Each mark tells a story of violence and survival, of a life lived on the edge of danger. “I’ve never felt safer than I do right now,” I whisper against his chest.

He tightens his arms around me, careful of my tender spots though his grip is possessive. “This life is ours now. No morebratva, no more threats, and no more looking over our shoulders. Just a family.”

“Exactly.” I press my palm against my belly, and Elizabeth kicks in response to the sound of her father’s voice.

The promise settles into my bones like truth, hope, and the foundation for the future we’re going to build together. Outside, the world continues its complicated dance of violence and politics and power struggles, though inside these walls, we’ve created something untouchable.

34

Nikandr

The next day, I make it official. The papers are spread across my desk like the blueprint for a new life—transfer documents, bank account signatures, and legal contracts that will sever my connection to the organization that’s defined my existence for fifteen years. Maksim sits across from me, reviewing each page with razor-sharp attention.

“You’re certain about this?” He looks up from the financial statements, his expression serious despite the magnitude of what we’re accomplishing. “Once these are signed, there’s no going back. The Belov name won’t carry the same weight in certain circles.”

I pick up the pen and sign my name with steady strokes, each signature feeling like shedding skin I’ve outgrown. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. The only weight I want my name to carry is the promise I made to my family.”

The transfer of power is remarkably simple for something that represents decades of accumulated influence and territory.Everything passes to Maksim with the stroke of a pen and the understanding that this transition needs to be seamless.

“What about the men who’ve been loyal to you personally?” he asks while witnessing my final signature. “Some of them have been with your family since before your father died.”

“They’ll follow you because you’ve earned their respect, and because I’m asking them to. The ones who won’t adjust to new leadership were never truly loyal anyway.” I close the folder containing the last of the paperwork and slide it across the desk. “You’re the only man I trust to bury the past without dragging it into the future.”

He nods and shakes my hand, the gesture one of brotherhood forged through years of shared violence and mutual dependence. “Congratulations. You’re officially a civilian.”

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