Page 109 of Bratva's Intern

That cracked something wide open inside me.

I held him closer, brushing my lips against his temple.

“You always think you can’t… just because no one ever told you that you could.” He shuddered, his breath catching. “But I see you, Wren. You don’t have to earn my praise because you’ve already deserved it.”

“If you don’t stop being that sweet, you’re going to make me cry again.” He sniffled again, wiped his face, and looked up at me with this crooked little grin. “Also… Jess was right. The practice iswaybetter than the theory.”

I barked a quiet laugh against his shoulder. “Is that your review?”

“Ten out of five stars,” he whispered. “Would absolutely get wrecked again.”

God help me, I was so far gone for him I didn’t stand a chance.

“I can be gentler next time.”

“Maybe for a while.” He stretched to kiss my cheek. “Please tell my boss I don’t think I’ll be able to make it in to work tomorrow. I’ll have to take a personal day to recover from that wrecking.”

“Your boss says approved. You stay in bed all day tomorrow if you want.”

He yawned. “Of course it won’t make any difference. You have people at work doing my job anyway.”

Oh shit. I hadn’t come up with a lie yet to explain why I’d left only the smallest tasks for him to do.

A soft snore drifted up, and I looked down. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted in sleep. His chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths, his face peaceful despite the drying tear tracks.

I should’ve let him rest. He’d given me everything. But my body moved on instinct. Need and worship tangled into one. I hadn’t had enough of him. I had to know just how much I’d ruined him tonight.

Sliding down his body, I was careful not to wake him. I shifted one of his legs forward. His thigh pressed to his chest, baring the view that made my mouth water—his hole swollen, all pink and puffy, slick, and dripping with my cum.

Perfect.

I leaned in, darting my tongue out to taste him, lapping softly at the wrecked ring of muscle. He twitched under me, hips shifting in his sleep, but he didn’t wake.

“Don’t stop…” he mumbled, voice hazy, drunk on exhaustion and pleasure. “Feels good.”

I groaned low in my throat, burying my face between his cheeks and licking deeper, slower, savoring the taste of him—of us.

He was still open, soft, and ruined from earlier, and I loved it. Loved how he let me take whatever I wanted, even in sleep. Loved how his body responded to me, even now.

Mine.

I planned to keep reminding him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

WREN

Iwoke up to lips on my shoulder.

Soft at first. Featherlight. Then firmer. Warm and slow like he was tasting me in his sleep. A kiss dragged along the curve of my neck, a slow exhale following right after.

“Mmm,” I mumbled, eyes still shut. “That’s a really nice alarm clock.”

“Better than your phone, which woke me up this morning,” Maxim murmured, voice low and amused.

I smiled without opening my eyes, stretching under the sheets. My body ached in the best possible way. Every muscle had that delicious post-sex heaviness, and I was more than happy to melt right back into the mattress. If I didn’t have to move anytime soon, I’d only be too glad.

A broken hole was not so pleasant the morning after.

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