Page 19 of Kidnapped & Bred By The BRATVA
I grip her wrist, hauling her to her feet. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t resist. The wives glance up, smirks curving their mouths, but no one stops us. They know.
I drag her back through the corridors, up the stairs, into the suite that already smells like us. I slam the door shut and spin her against it, caging her with my body.
“That dress,” I rasp, my voice raw. “Do you know what it does to me?”
Her breath stutters. “N-no.”
My hands skim down her sides, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “It makes me want to tear it off. To bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you can’t walk straight. To put my seed in you again and again until you’re swollen with me.”
Her body trembles, but it isn’t fear. Her nipples strain against the thin silk, and her thighs part just slightly.
“Roman…”
The breathy, desperate sound of my name on her lips snaps the leash.
I crush my mouth to hers, devouring her, tasting bread and want and desire all mixed together. My hands fist in the dress, yanking it up over her hips, baring the smooth skin of her thighs. She gasps when I grip her ass, lifting her effortlessly, pressing her back against the door.
Her legs wrap around me, her arms tightening around my neck. The little black dress slides higher, pooling at her waist, leaving her bare for me.
I shove my trousers down, not wasting time, and line myself up. Her gray eyes lock with mine, wide, shimmering, but there’s no hesitation. Only want.
I thrust into her in one deep stroke, burying myself to the hilt. Her cry echoes against the door, muffled by my kiss as I swallow every sound she makes.
This isn’t just sex. This is consummation. Ceremony. My cock pounding into her is as binding as the ink on the papers now locked in a vault downstairs.
I move hard and fast, grinding deeper each time, claiming her body as my wife’s, my queen’s. She moans with every thrust, hervoice breaking on my name, her tits bouncing beneath the fabric of the dress, her cunt clenching tighter, until she shatters around me.
I follow, roaring against her throat, spilling inside her, filling her until she’s overflowing with me. My hips jerk, my body trembling as I grind the last drops deep where they belong.
When it’s done, I hold her there, pinned against the door, her breath ragged, her cheeks flushed.
“You’re mine now,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her damp hair. “In every way.”
Her arms cling to me tighter, and her voice is a whisper against my skin. “Yes.”
That single word sealing it more than any signature ever could.
Olivia
Roman doesn’t let me go after he spends himself inside me.
I expect him to set me down, to clean me up, to give me space like all of the other times. But he holds me pinned against the door, his breath ragged in my hair, his chest heaving against mine. His cock is still thick inside me, pulsing, refusing to let me forget what he’s just done.
Then, with a grunt, he shifts me in his arms.
I squeal softly, clinging to his shoulders as he carries me across the room. My legs remain locked around his waist, his grip sure and unyielding, until he lays me down on the wide bed.
But he doesn’t pull out.
He pulls a pillow beneath my hips, angling me so my pelvis tilts upward, my thighs spread wide, my swollen cunt still wrapped around him. I blink up at him, dazed. “Why the pillow?”
His scar pulls tight as his mouth curves in something between a smirk and a snarl. “So my seed doesn’t spill out of you. So it has the best chance of taking.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, to my chest, pools low in my belly.
“You want…” My throat dries, the words hard to say aloud.
“A baby.” His hand slides over my stomach, broad and possessive, pressing flat against the soft flesh. “My baby. I wantyou round with me, Olivia. I want to see this belly swell because I filled you every day, gave you pleasure every day.”
