Page 136 of Bratva's Intern

He groaned, filthy and guttural. He opened the top drawer of his desk. I didn’t need to look to know exactly what he was grabbing.

Of course he had lube in there. He’d been planning for this to happen. He’d told me it would.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been watching you parade around my office and not being able to touch you?” he muttered, slicking his fingers with slow, purposeful movements, then pressing them against my hole. He rubbedteasing circles that made me buck against the cool surface of the desk. I let out a throaty moan, craving more.

“Please—”

Two fingers pushed past the tight ring muscle with one smooth stroke. I clenched around the foreign invasion. With his free hand, Maxim gripped my hip, holding me firm and steady while moving his fingers inside me.

“God, you’re so ready for me.”

“Yes,” I gasped, shameless. “For you. Only you.”

“That’s right,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my spine. “You belong to me, Wren. You always have.”

My hands scrambled for purchase on the smooth surface of the desk. Only his grip on my hip kept me upright.

“You’re going to take everything I give you.” He lined up behind me. “And you’re going to thank me for it. For every stroke.”

“Yes, Mr. Morozov,” I whispered, trembling. “Thank you, sir.”

He slid his hands up my sides, curling one around the back of my neck, pressing my face against the desk, firmly but not too tight.

Grounding me.

Owning me.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard this desk shakes,” he growled. “And when you come screaming my name, maybe then you’ll believe what you are to me. You’re everything to me, Wren.”

He pushed in slowly, agonizingly, possessively, tenderly, even as he claimed me like he was staking territory. I gasped, back arching, mouth open but soundless as the stretch sent sparks up my spine.

“My god, that’s so fucking good,” he groaned, pulling out and moving back in with deep thrusts, his pelvis smacking into my ass.

Pleasure surged through me, ripping a gasp from my throat and making me fumble for something, anything to hold on to as Maxim pounded into me. He hit every angle, stretching me in ways I never knew I needed, and my cries echoed off the office walls.

“I don’t hear you thanking me.” A hand crashed against my ass.

Slap, slap.

“Thank you, Mr. Morozov.” The word slipped out in a breathless whimper, heat flooding my system. The sting from his hand coupled with his thrusts almost sent me over the cliff.

“What are you thanking me for?” he whispered.

“Thank you for always fucking me so good. Oh my god.” I arched against the desk, tilting my ass as he nailed the same spot over and over. Shivers ran down my spine. My toes curled in my shoes until I was on their tips, my cries filling the office.

This…this was the reason I’d avoided having sex with Maxim in his office. How was I supposed to be productive now? Every time I entered his office…every time I saw the desk, how could I not remember this? The way he owned my body, took possession of my hole, and claimed it.

Every time he pushed forward, I threw my ass back, my cheeks slapping together. The sounds echoed around the room obscenely loud. I could hardly think as his cock pistoned in and out of me, each thrust so perfectly calculated to hit exactly those places that made me scream out for more. His fingers dug into my hips, leaving behind marks I knew would still be there in the morning.

“Max—Maxim!” I cried out his name in a hoarse whisper as a whirlwind built inside me, growing stronger.

“Don’t move, kroshka.” He increased his pace, thrusts becoming more urgent and desperate as if he was trying tomerge our bodies. I tried to hold on, clenching the desk, white-knuckled as my body jerked.

Over and over, his hips snapped forward. The desk groaned under our weight, shifting from its position on the floor, but Maxim only followed the movement, never once breaking stride.

“Max—Mr. Morozov,” I gasped. “I’m gonna come. Oh god, I’m gonnna come.”

“I know. I can feel it. The way you’re so fucking tight around me.”

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