Page 108 of Bratva's Intern

I shifted my angle, grinding against his prostate, and his back arched like I’d shocked him. He screamed. A raw, shattered sound that hit me low in the gut.

“There it is,” I said, voice low and wicked. “Right fucking there.”

I kept hitting that spot, over and over, nailing it with every brutal stroke, relentless even when he started sobbing.

“Fuck! Max! I’m gonna. Oh, my god?—”

“That’s it,” I grunted, slamming into him. “Come for me. Hands-free. Show me how good I fuck you.”

He screamed. A full, throat-tearing sound that echoed off the walls, raw and shameless. His whole body snapped tight, his toes curled, his cock untouched but twitching as he came. Thick spurts streaked his stomach and chest. His thighsquivered violently, muscles spasming as his hole squeezed me so tight I nearly blacked out.

“Fucking beautiful.” I fucked him through it, dragging out every wave.

He was still gasping when I lost it inside him.

I gripped his hips hard enough to bruise, lifting his ass off the bed, and drove in as deep as I could, leaving nothing to spare. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I spilled my seed inside him with a groan that ripped through me. My body locked up, pleasure cresting so hard I saw stars.

When it passed, I collapsed over him, breath ragged, mouth at his temple.

“You did so good for me,” I whispered, pressing kisses to his flushed skin. My breath came out in pants, but it was important to me he knew how fantastic he was in bed with me. “Took everything like you were made for me.”

Wren let out a soft, broken laugh.

And then he burst into tears.

Alarmed, I sat upright, heart punching into my throat. “Wren?”

He was sobbing. No warning. No slow build. Just full-on blubbering—red-faced, heaving, breath-hitching sobs, his wrists still bound above his head, body trembling like he was falling apart.

“Shit. Baby, hey, it’s okay. Hold on.”

I scrambled for the key on the nightstand, hands slick and fumbling as I unlocked and freed him from the cuffs. The second his arms dropped, he curled into me, clinging like he wanted to crawl under my skin and never leave.

I wrapped him up tight, holding him close, stroking a hand down his back in long, steady lines.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” I murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

He clutched at my waist, nails digging into my skin, bodytrembling against mine. I pressed kisses to his temple, to his jaw, to anywhere I could reach.

“Did I hurt you?” I asked. “Wren, talk to me. Did I go too far?”

He shook his head hard, rubbing his face against my chest like he was trying to wipe the tears away on my skin.

“No,” he gasped. “No, you didn’t. It’s not that. I swear.”

I eased him back just enough to see his face, brushing the tears from his cheeks with my thumbs.

“Then what is it, baby?”

“I-I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he said with a watery laugh. “Jesus, what iswrongwith me?”

“Nothing,” I said gently, pulling him right back in. “Nothing is wrong with you. You’re perfect. I feel like I’ve been using that word a lot since I met you.”

He was still sniffling, but his breathing slowed down.

“Maxim…” he mumbled against my collarbone, voice thick and trembling. “I promise I’m okay. It’s just…” He sniffled, letting out a shaky breath. “No one’s ever talked to me like that before. No one’s ever said I was good—wanted—or praised me like you do.”

He paused, a soft laugh catching in his throat. “And I think it’s breaking me a little—in the best way. I just… I think I’m ridiculously happy.”

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