Page 77 of Bratva Bidder
My heart pounds like a desperate drumbeat, each thud marking the moments lost between us. I’ve never needed anything as badly as I need her right now. Nadya. My woman. My obsession.
She kisses me again, deep and hungry, her lips swollen and warm against mine. Her skin burns under my fingertips as I stroke her bare back, pulling her impossibly closer. She rolls her hips against me, igniting a fire that nearly consumes all reason.
“God, I need you,” she whispers, pressing kisses down my jawline. Her voice is shaky, filled with need that mirrors my own.
“You’re mine, Nadya,” I say, my voice hoarse with raw emotion.
Her hands fumble with my shirt, shoving it from my shoulders as her body arches impatiently into mine, bare breasts pressing urgently against my chest. Skin to skin now, she feels even better than memory could ever serve. I let out a low growl, the sensation tearing through me, raw and hungry.
She lifts slightly, just enough to give me room to undo her skirt, sliding it from her hips until there’s nothing left but heated skin and trembling limbs. Nadya’s eyes meet mine, a blazing intensity burning between us that almost steals my breath. Her lips brush mine, soft and aching, her voice a ragged whisper.
“I need you, Konstantin.”
Something primal and possessive ignites inside me. I quickly undo my pants, freeing myself, groaning as she sinks down onto me, enveloping my cock inch by inch, tight and slick and perfect. Her head tips back, a low moan escaping her throat, sending a shudder through my entire body.
“Fuck, Nadya,” I breathe, voice rough and reverent all at once as her pussy clenches around my cock.
She responds by rolling her hips slowly, deliberately, drawing out every sensation, every bit of pleasure. I grip her waist hard, fingertips digging into her soft flesh, guiding her movements. Soon we’re both gasping, breaths uneven, fogging the windows around us as our bodies rock desperately together. Her cunt continues to throb, milking me. I have to close my eyes briefly to will myself to slow down.
“Nadya,” I say hoarsely, looking into her eyes, wanting her to understand just how deep this goes. “I won’t ever lose you again.”
“I believe you,” she whispers, starting to move gently, rocking her hips in a slow, torturous rhythm. Her thighs tremble around me, her fingers clawing gently at my shoulders. Every movement sends sparks straight to my balls.
My brain may not remember her, but my body does.
My hands grip her hips tightly, guiding her, urging her to move faster, deeper. She responds with a moan, arching her back beautifully. I get a brief glimpse of what our first night together might have been like.
Her hips grind desperately now, searching for that sweet friction that will send her over the edge. I reach between us, thumb pressing firmly against her swollen clit, circling and teasing as Imove inside her, feeling her muscles clench deliciously around me. And with the other hand, I hold up a breast to press kisses and swallow her nipple in my mouth.
“Oh, God…Konstantin!” Her voice breaks, her eyes squeezing shut, body going taut as she shudders violently around me. She throws her head back, crying out as her climax crashes through her, every muscle trembling with pleasure.
I grasp her waist tightly, holding her steady, not letting her come down from her high before pushing deeper, losing myself in her heat. She braces one hand against the fogged window, leaving a perfect, desperate handprint on the glass as I drive into her again and again.
Our bodies move relentlessly, claiming, giving, worshipping each other in the cramped confines of the car. She murmurs my name again and again, like a sacred prayer, fueling my need to possess and protect her.
I bury my face against her neck, roaring out my release, hips pressed tight against hers, emptying myself deep within her, claiming her body and soul.
We stay tangled together long after the world around us quiets, our ragged breaths mingling softly. Her fingers trail gently over my sweat-slicked skin, soothing, healing.
I draw back just enough to gaze into her flushed face, brushing damp strands of hair away.
“I won’t lose you again,” I murmur, my words both promise and vow.
She tightens her hold, pressing a gentle kiss to my jaw. “You won’t.”
And as I hold her in the darkness, bodies still joined, warmth and hope bloom quietly between us, filling the space that hurt once claimed.
17
NADYA
Rain still patterssoftly across the roof while we sit tangled in the half dark, the windows fogged and the cabin smelling of skin, warm breath, and something lushly spent. I’m still throbbing where he filled me, the pulse low and insistent between my thighs, and for one dizzy heartbeat I’m transported to Barcelona again—candlelight, cheap champagne, the Mediterranean wind drifting through an open balcony door—but this time when I blink, Konstantin is still here, his hand gentle on the back of my neck.
We share a slow, almost shy smile, the kind that says everything’s changed without either of us daring to name it aloud.
He looks at me then, really looks at me, like he’s about to bare something painful. “I need to tell you what happened after. What I lost.”
I shake my head gently and press two fingers to his lips. “Not now,” I whisper.
