Page 177 of Bratva's Vow
Maxim’s mouth brushed my ear. “That’s exactly what it is.”
He pressed closer, his voice low and hot and sinful. “When you’re better, I’m going to bend you over every surface in our new house. You’ll be begging me to stop and begging me not to, all in the same breath.”
“I can’t wait that long.” White-hot pleasure pooled into my gut and spread outward as he jacked me off.
“Then focus on getting stronger.” He dragged his palm just right. “Get well, and I’ll give you everything. Every filthy thing you want.”
I squirmed, shamelessly grinding into the firm grip of his hand. He let out a low growl in my ear as he worked me faster, building up the sweet agony of pressure.
“So fucking beautiful you are, solnyshko.”
I clawed weakly at his wrist as the coil inside me tightened, snapped. I cried out, trembling as my release hit, the pleasureso sharp it almost hurt. Maybe because I’d been sick and dying, but I sobbed with it—real, messy, broken sobs. Not just from the orgasm but also from the weight of still beinghere.
Still being held.
The past week in the new hospital had been rough. I couldn’t even work up the courage to tell Maxim that at times I’d wished I would die to not have to go through the pain.
He cradled me through it like I was something fragile.
He didn’t rush me.
Just kissed my cheek and whispered, “You’re doing so good, Wren. You’re doing so fucking good.”
We stood there in the bathroom, in the kind of silence that only came after you’d let out everything you’d been holding in. Shame. Fear. Lust. Hope.
Maxim chuckled, breaking the solemn moment.
“What?” I sniffled, dabbing my face with the edge of my gown.
“You really thought you were a walking Fleshlight?”
I laughed through the last of my tears. “Don’t kinkshame me. A boy can have dreams.”
“Well, I’m here to make them come true. Don’t ever forget that.”
We cleaned up, and by we, I meant Maxim did all the work, gently wiping me down, then helping me shuffle back to bed. He tucked the sheets around me like I was precious cargo.
The room was… ridiculous. Bigger than my bedroom in the old apartment I’d shared with Jess. Soft lighting, real wood furnishings, and a giant window with a city view. In the corner stood a pull-out couch for Maxim to sleep, but he spent the nights snuggled up behind me in the bed. A flatscreen TV played on mute in the background. The private bathroom looked more like a hotel spa than a hospital.
It didn’t smell like bleach and despair the way most hospitals did. More like eucalyptus. Or money.
It was peaceful. Comfortable. And I was only able to afford this experience because of my husband.
Husband.
I wriggled my fingers to catch the light on my ring.
“You know what the worst part is?” I squinted up at him as he settled down next to me. “You tricked me into getting engaged, then tricked me into getting married, and now you won’t even consummate it properly.”
Maxim raised an eyebrow. “I trickedyou into marrying me?”
“You did!”
“You were the one begging the chaplain to marry us before you died.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Good thing Nik has the whole thing on tape,” he said with a smirk. “You can watch the playback. Full drama. The chaplain protesting. You threatening to puke on his shoes. All of it.”
