Page 47 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
My hands slide down her back to her ass, pulling her hips against mine so she can feel exactly what she does to me. She whimpers, rising on her toes to press herself closer.
“Arina,” I growl against her mouth. “Tell me to stop. Tell me now if this isn’t what you want.”
“Don’t stop,” she breathes, her fingers tangling in my hair, tugging in a way that sends sparks down my spine. “Please, don’t stop.”
That’s all I need to hear. I lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her to the guest room downstairs, our lips pressed together.
I lay her down and tumble into bed, hovering over her. My thumb strokes her flushed cheeks.
“Are you sure?” I ask one last time. I have given her so much to be angry about, so much to regret, and I don’t wish to give her one other reason.
Her answer to my question is the urgency with which she reaches for her shirt. I watch, transfixed, as she peels it off her skin, my eyes grazing over the expanse of her body, hungry for when I see the first peek of lace, famished by the time I see the sight of her breasts in that bra.
With a growl, I strip off my shirt, and her eyes darken as they visually map the muscles of my chest and the tapering of my waist down to my pants.
And then, we’re a tornado. I rip off my belt, and she unbuttons her trousers. I unzip mine and reach for her waistband, sliding her pants down as I move further down, until they’re off her ankles and discarded somewhere. I shed mine off faster than she can come back, and now, we’re in nothing but our underwear, flesh to flesh.
I bounce back on top of her, give her lips a featherlight kiss before cupping her face in my hands. She pants beneath me, breathless and fresh-faced, looking divinely beautiful with her hair spread around her like a halo.
“I meant it,” I whisper, gazing into her eyes. “I can’t live with myself if something happens to you.”
“I know,” she whispers, and her hands slide down my back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
I press my lips to her neck, taste the salt of her skin, and breathe in her scent.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur against her throat, trailing kisses down to her collarbone. “I’ve thought about what this would be like every single day since Cancun.”
Her hands clutch at my shoulders, nails digging in slightly. “You’re telling me?” she hisses.
I grin and reach beneath her back. She arches for me, and I unhook her bra, slide it off her shoulders.
I inhale at the sight of those perfect, full breasts spilling free for me. Her nipples harden as I drink in the sight, and she lets out a slow exhale.
I cup one in my hand, my thumb brushing over the peak. She arches into my touch with a soft moan.
“Ilariy,” she sighs, sliding her hands down my boxers. “I want to feel you.”
I help her remove my boxers, then slide my hands up her thighs, hook my fingers into her panties, and slowly pull them down.
I see the landing leading down to what’s between her lips, that sweetness I so long to taste, and my mouth waters. I lean down to kiss her belly, her hip bones, the inside of her thigh.
Then, ever so slowly, I part her thighs for me, see the folds of her pussy, and dart my head up with a questioning look.
She nods, and her bottom lip catches between her teeth. I slide my hands under her thighs, spreading her wider as I lower my mouth to her. The first swipe of my tongue makes her cry out, her back arching off the bed. She’s already wet, her body a hymn I’m dying to sing.
I explore every fold and crease with my tongue, remember what makes her gasp and moan. When I finally slide a finger inside her, she’s slick and hot, clenching around me like a fish out of water.
Her hands are now in my hair, clutching to a point where pain becomes pleasure, and I begin to drum my tongue against her slit and add a second finger, curling both until she writhes.
Her hips move in rhythm with my hand. I can feel her tightening around me, getting closer.
“Ilariy,” she gasps, her thighs trembling. “I’m going to—”
“Let go,” I command, crooking my fingers just so. “Come for me, Arina.”
Her body shudders with pleasure, and she lurches off the bed, having lost all control. “Oh my god!” she moans, her fingers digging into the sheets, and it’s the most beautiful sight. I work her through it gently, easing up only when she stops fluttering around my finger.
I crawl back up her body to kiss her, letting her taste herself on my lips. Her hands slide down my chest. When she wraps her fingers around my length, I hiss through my teeth at the sensation.
