Page 20 of Bribed & Bred By the BRATVA
Because this was about her. About proving a point.
I grip her chin with one hand, tilt her face up, and press my mouth to hers so she can taste herself on me. She kisses me back weakly, dazed, pliant. Perfect. My other hand wraps around my cock and pumps ferociously.
“Now you understand,” I murmur against her lips, not relenting my pace as my balls tighten and heat flares up my spine. “I won’t stop until your body learns me. Until every nerve, every muscle, every beat of your heart craves me. Until even your womb knows my name.” It’s all I need for my release as I squirt hot ribbons of my cum over her slick, pink, pussy with a grunt.
She whimpers, but she doesn’t pull away. Her hand clutches weakly at my shirt, holding me there.
I grin, sharp and satisfied. She’s wrecked, ruined, but she’s mine.
And later, I’ll ruin her all over again.
Isabella
The bathwater laps at my skin, warm and silken, carrying the faintest scent of something light and floral. Steam curls around me, fogging the mirror across the room, blurring the edges of reality until I feel suspended in something unreal.
I close my eyes, but it’s not silence I find. It’s him.
The scrape of his stubble between my thighs. The sound of his voice when he told me my orgasms would help me take root with his child. The ferocity in his eyes as he dragged pleasure out of me over and over until I was sobbing his name.
It should horrify me. It should disgust me. Instead, my body aches with want all over again.
I tell myself it’s just sex. That what I feel when he touches me is nothing but instinct, biology, a transaction written into my body as surely as ink on a page. But the lie rings hollow.
Because it isn’t just sex. It’s the way he praised me. The way he made me feel seen. The way his voice broke when he called me a good girl, a queen, his wife.
I’ve lived so long under the weight of fear, of responsibility, of hunger and exhaustion and the endless grind of trying to keep Mateo alive. That weight has pressed me flat, smoothed me into nothing but a caretaker, a small woman with no room left for her own desires.
But Aleksei has lifted it. Ruthlessly, violently, undeniably. And in the space left behind, something else is growing. Something dangerous.
I trail my hands over my breasts, cupping them, squeezing lightly. My nipples harden under my touch, and I gasp at the sensation. I’ve never done this before, never had the luxury of knowing what my body could want. Now it feels like a whole new world has been unlocked, and I’m starving.
My hand drifts lower, over my stomach where his handprint still burns there in memory, and between my thighs. I hesitate, cheeks burning even though I’m alone. But the memory of his mouth, his tongue, his praise, urges me on. I stroke myself tentatively, then firmer, and a moan escapes before I can bite it back.
I imagine his voice, low and commanding:Good girl. Take it. Don’t hide from me.
The thought pushes me over the edge too quickly, shattering through me like glass. I sink lower in the water, trembling, breathless, clutching at the sides of the tub.
It’s terrifying how much I crave it. How much I want him again. Not for Mateo, not for the bargain, but for me.
When I finally pull myself from the bath, my skin flushed and damp, the lie is gone. I can’t tell myself it’s just sex anymore. It’s need. It’s hunger. It’s power, blazing inside me like fire.
I slip into the nightdress laid out for me. Thin cotton. Soft. It feels indecent now, like an invitation. Maybe it is.
The house is quiet as I pad down the hall. His door is open, light spilling from within. He looks up from the edge of the bed, half-undressed, eyes darkening when they land on me.
I stop in the doorway, heart hammering. My voice shakes but the words are steady. “I want you.”
The air between us ignites. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just waits. As if he knew I would come, and he’s giving me the choice to finish it.
My feet carry me forward. I climb onto the bed, straddling him where he sits. My hands fumble at his trousers, tugging them open, freeing him. His breath hisses out, but he doesn’t touch me. He lets me do it, lets me guide myself down onto him.
The stretch burns, familiar now, but wanted. My lips part on a moan as I sink fully, taking him to the root of his hard length.
His hands grip my hips at last, holding me steady. His voice is rough, ragged. “Good girl. You came to me. You put yourself on my cock like you were made for it.”
“I was,” I say on a gasp, unable to manage anything more. I move, rocking, rising and falling, awkward and desperate. He praises me for every motion, every sound.So beautiful. So brave. Look at you, riding me like a queen.
The words unravel me, make me faster, bolder. I roll my hips, chasing the spark he’s lit inside me, gasping at the fullness, the heat. His eyes never leave mine, burning with possession and something softer, something hungrier.
