Page 10 of Claimed By the Masked BRATVA
He pushes the fabric aside and slides one finger over me, bare now, and I nearly sob. The sensation is too sharp, too much, too good. My hips buck, chasing it.
“Look at you,” he growls, watching my face intently. “Your body can’t lie. Every twitch, every gasp, you’re giving yourself to me without even meaning to. That’s what I crave. The truth of you.”
I want to hide, to bury my face in the pillows, but his gaze pins me in place. He wants me exposed, raw, ruined. And God help me, I want to give it to him.
When he pushes a finger inside me, slow but inexorable, I gasp so hard it hurts. The stretch is shocking, intimate, and yet my body clenches around him, greedy, desperate for more.
“So tight,” he hisses, teeth gritted as though holding back. “I’ll break you open on my cock soon, but not yet. First, I want to feel you come on my hand.”
The words alone nearly undo me.
His thumb circles my clit, firm and precise, and my body convulses. I clutch at his shoulders, nails digging, shameless cries spilling from my lips. The scientist in me wants to analyze, to categorize the intensity of sensation, but the woman is too busy falling apart.
“Let go,” he commands, voice rough with need. “Give it to me. Show me how perfect you are when you fall apart.”
And I do.
The orgasm slams into me like a tidal wave. My back arches, my thighs tremble violently, and a cry tears from my throat that I don’t recognize as my own. My walls clamp down around his fingers, spasming, milking, and he curses, watching me with hungry reverence.
“Yes,” he groans, stroking me through the aftershocks. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Precious and perfect and mine.”
Tears prick my eyes. I don’t even know why. Overstimulation, release, the sheer overwhelming reality of being seen. He notices instantly, dragging his mouth back up to kiss the salt from my cheeks.
“I’ll never hurt you,” he whispers fiercely. “I’ll only worship, only claim, only keep. You’re safe with me.”
The words settle deeper than the orgasm did. I cling to him, trembling, shattered, undone, and I realize with a jolt of terror and wonder that I’ve given him everything.
Not just my body. My trust.
My heart.
Sebastian
She shatters under my hand, and I can’t look away.
Her back arches off the bed, silk clinging to damp skin, her thighs trembling around my wrist as her body milks my fingers in desperate, helpless spasms. The sound she makes, half sob, half surrender, lodges itself deep in my chest.
I’ve had women fake moans for me. I’ve had them rehearse every sigh, every arch of their back, every whimper meant to stroke a man’s ego. This isn’t that. This is truth.
And I’ve never hungered for anything more.
She collapses against the pillows, trembling, flushed, eyes glassy and wet. I withdraw my fingers slowly, savoring the final flutter of her muscles around me, and bring them to my mouth. Her taste coats my tongue, sweet, intoxicating, addictive.
“Perfect,” I groan. “You taste like you were made for me.”
Her blush deepens, spreading down her chest, but she doesn’t look away. Brave little thing.
I strip the last of the silk and lace from her body, baring her completely. My cock jerks at the sight of her spread out before me, all soft curves and flushed skin, thighs damp with proof of what I’ve done to her. I want to fall to my knees and worship. I want to mark her until no one doubts who she belongs to. I want to fuck her until she can’t remember her own name, only mine.
And I want all of it now.
I shrug out of my jacket, rip at the buttons of my shirt. Her eyes widen as I strip, pupils blown wide when my cock springs free, hard and heavy. She gasps softly, biting her lip, and I smirk.
“Scared?” I ask, stroking myself slowly, deliberately, watching the way her gaze follows the motion like she can’t look away.
Her breath hitches. “No.”
“Good,” I growl, climbing over her, bracing my weight on my forearms so I can cage her completely. “Because once I’m inside you, there’s no going back. You’ll never forget the way I feel. No man will ever compare.”
