Page 90 of Bratva Prisoner
“I love you.”
The words still make my chest fill with something that feels too big for my body to contain. Even after months of hearing her say it, even after proving to each other that this thing between us is real and permanent, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to being loved by her.
“Come on,” I prompt as I help her out of the tandem harness. “We need to celebrate properly.”
The ride back to our resort takes twenty minutes that feel like hours. Alyssa keeps staring at her engagement ring and making small sounds of amazement, while I try to focus on the mountain roads instead of the dozen different ways I want to show her exactly how much her acceptance means to me.
Our suite overlooks Lake Geneva, complete with a private balcony and a bed that’s been calling my name since we arrived yesterday. The moment the door closes behind us, I have her pressed against it with my mouth on hers and my hands tangling in her hair.
“I love you,” I tell her between kisses. “My fiancée. My future wife.”
“Say it again,” she breathes as her fingers work at the buttons of my shirt.
“Which part?”
“All of it. I want to hear you call me your wife.”
“My wife,” I repeat. “Mrs. Barkov. The woman who’s going to drive me insane for the next fifty years.”
She laughs against my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my cock like it always does. “Only fifty? You’re underestimating me.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to negotiate a longer contract.”
I work the buttons of her blouse as slowly as I can convince myself to go, savoring each inch of skin revealed as the fabric parts under my touch. The delicate lace of her bra appears, and I trace the edge with my fingertips, watching goosebumps spread across her chest. She shudders beneath my hands, and her breathing becomes more uneven with each passing second.
When her shirt finally falls to the floor, I step back to take in the sight of her. Her breasts rise and fall with quickened breath, and the flush spreading down her neck makes me want to taste every pink inch.
My own shirt follows hers to the floor, and her hands immediately go to work on my belt buckle. The sound of leather sliding through loops fills the space between us, followed by the whisper of fabric as our remaining clothes disappear piece by piece. When we’re finally bare, skin against skin with nothing between us but want and love and the knowledge that this is ours now, forever.
“I can’t believe you proposed to me while we were paragliding,” she says as I map the curve of her hip with my palm.
“I wanted it to be memorable.”
“Mission accomplished.” She arches into my touch as I slide my hand across her stomach. “Though I have to admit, it was very you. Dramatic, over the top, completely unnecessary, and absolutely perfect.”
“Just like this,” I murmur before taking her nipple into my mouth.
The taste of her skin floods my senses as I work my tongue around the peaked flesh and draw small gasps from her throat. She holds tight to my shoulders as I lavish attention on first one breast and then the other.
I kiss my way down her body, memorizing the landscape of her ribs, the softness of her belly, and the way she trembles when I press my lips to the sensitive spot just below her navel. Her fingers tangle in my hair, guiding me lower with gentle pressure that speaks louder than words.
When I reach the apex of her thighs, I pause to look up at her. Her green eyes are dark with desire, her lips parted as she watches me with an anticipation that makes my blood burn.
I part her with my thumbs to expose the pink flesh that’s already glistening with arousal. The first touch of my tongue makes her back bow off the bed as her hands fist in the sheets. She tastes like honey and need, like everything I’ve ever wanted distilled into this one perfect moment.
I trace patterns with my tongue that make her writhe beneath me, each stroke designed to drive her higher. When I slide two fingers inside her, she clenches around me with a moanthat makes me even harder. The combination of my mouth and fingers working together has her trembling on the edge within minutes, but I stop just before she goes over.
“Maksim, please,” she gasps as I kiss my way down her body. “I need you.”
“You have me,” I promise before I settle between her thighs. “All of me, for the rest of our lives.”
What follows is the kind of lovemaking that feels like worship—slow and thorough and reverent, like we’re consecrating vows we haven’t even spoken yet. I position myself at her entrance with the head of my cock barely breaching her heat as I look into her eyes. The trust I see there, the love, the complete surrender… It nearly undoes me before we’ve even begun.
I enter her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, giving her time to adjust to my size. She’s so tight, so wet, so perfect around me that I have to pause when I’m fully seated to catch my breath. The feeling of being completely joined with her, of being home in the most elemental way possible, overwhelms every other sensation. She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me deeper; it feels like coming home to a place I didn’t know existed.
“My husband,” she whispers as I move within her, setting a rhythm that pushes us both toward something inevitable.
“My wife,” I reply, and the words feel like the most important truth I’ve ever spoken.
