Page 30 of Hunted By the Masked BRATVA
"This. You. A future that's more than just revenge." She props herself up on one elbow, looking down at me. "Six years, Konstantin. Six years I spent planning how to destroy Troskoy. That was my entire existence. And now it's done, and I don't know who I am without that purpose."
I understand that better than she knows.
"You're Emilia Markova," I say. "Daughter of Alexander Markov. The woman who brought down Artur Troskoy. The woman who survived when she shouldn't have." I brush her hair back from her face. "And you're the woman I love. That's enough."
"Is it enough for you? Being just Konstantin, instead of the Reznikov's enforcer?"
"I don't know yet." I'm honest with her. Always honest. "But I'm willing to find out."
She smiles, and it's like sunrise after a long night. "Then let's find out together."
Emilia
I can’t sleep. The night is too quiet and despite the exhaustion I feel from everything we’ve done over the last week, I can’t switch my brain off.
“You’re thinking too loud.” Konstantin’s voice is rough. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
“I’m fine,” I say, feeling guilty for waking him. “Honestly, just go back to sleep.”
“Can’t,” he mutters and shifts onto his back. “I need something from you first.”
I stroke my hand over his chest, over the tattoos I know are there even if I ca’t see them in the dark.
“What do you need from me,” I ask, snaking my hand downwards.
He chuckles, “Not that.” He pulls my hand up and kisses my palm.
“What, then?” I ask, confused and a little put off that he doesn’t want me pleasuring him.
“Sit on my face,” he orders and the words go straight to my clit.
“What?” I ask, surprised.
“You heard. Sit on my face and let me make you come. You’ll feel better, I promise.” His words are darkly enticing. It’s notsomething I’ve done before and I feel self conscious even though he has already seen every part of me, multiple times.
“Stop thinking.” His voice has taken a firmer edge. “Trust me.”
I do as I’m told and lift myself over his shoulders, bracing my legs either side and holding onto he headboard.
“Are you sure?” I ask. His response is to grab my hips and roughly position me exactly where he wants me. His lips are immediately on my center, working me from below. His tongue pushes through my folds, laps at my entrance, circles my clit.
I moan, my hips trying to chase the rhythm that will let me come. Only he holds firm. Just as the orgasm builds to the point of no return, he pushes my hips back so I’m sitting on his chest.
“Why did you stop?” I demand, my voice whiny with the need for release.
“Just wait. You’ll see.”
He pulls me back up and works me harder. Sucking at my labia and thrusting his tongue into me before sucking me clit. Again he hold my hips steady, refusing me the chase and just as I peak again, he stops.
“Konstantin,” I say on a long moan. “Please,” I beg.
He slides his hands up my body and rolls my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. Each pinch sending fresh jolts of pleasure to my core.
Once again, he guides my hips back to his face and takes me in his mouth. This time, he lets me grind my hips against his mouth and chin, He sucks my clit so hard my body bucks. He lifts his hands back to my tits to play with my nipples.
Within seconds I’m flying over the edge. Gasping and shuddering as I come on his face, riding out the pleasure as his tongue slides in and out of my entrance. When it finally ends and the trembling subsides, I feel the wetness beneath my knees.
“What’s that?” I ask, still dazed and very much confused.
