Page 98 of Bratva Bidder
Her legs shift restlessly under my hips, her thighs brushing mine, needy and urgent. I move to the other breast, flicking and sucking and watching her eyes flutter closed.
I want to drag this out. I want to make her beg.
But I’m too far gone for patience.
I push her back gently against the desk, clearing whatever papers were left with a blind sweep of my arm. Somewhere in theback of my mind I know Lev’s documents are probably fucked, but I don’t care. All I care about is her—laid out in front of me, flushed and perfect and panting.
Her fingers fumble at my shirt, then tear it open, buttons pinging off the floor like gunshots. Her hands roam over my chest, nails dragging, and I hiss through my teeth as her touch electrifies every inch of skin.
She wants me as badly as I want her. I can feel it in the way she moves against me, restless and insistent, fingers sliding down to my belt, yanking at it.
“God, just take them off,” she mutters, and I grin before shoving my pants down, briefs with them.
Her gaze drops—and she swallows.
“Still want me, zayka?”
She rolls her eyes, breathless. “Obviously.”
I hook my fingers in her waistband and strip her of the last barrier between us, dragging her underwear down her legs and tossing them aside. Her thighs fall open for me, wet and flushed and already trembling again.
I drop to my knees between her legs and kiss the inside of her thigh, biting gently, then laving the sting with my tongue. I hear her whimper, soft and helpless.
But I’m not here to tease. My cock protests as I take my sweet time. I know I can’t hold back for too long.
I stand, grip her hips, and drag her to the edge of the desk until her ass is just at the lip, her legs dangling open for me.
Her eyes meet mine—dark, daring. She wants me bad.
I guide my throbbing cock to her entrance, just barely brushing her slick folds. She gasps, a tiny shudder running through her.
“I need to be inside you,” I say, voice hoarse. “Now.”
“Then stop talking,” she replies, wrapping her legs around me.
I thrust in one smooth motion, sinking all the way to the hilt.
Her mouth falls open on a cry, and my control snaps.
The desk creaks under us as I begin to move, slow at first, then faster as the pressure builds. She meets each thrust with her own, taking me deeper, clutching at my shoulders as if trying to hold on while everything around her breaks apart.
She’s tight and wet and hot, and the way she clenches around me threatens to undo me far too soon. But I hold on.
Because I want to watch her fall apart again.
“Look at me,” I demand, catching her jaw with one hand and turning her face toward mine.
Her eyes find mine—and I see it. The spark, the fury, the longing, the trust. All of it, tangled in a messy knot only we could create.
I kiss her hard. Deep. And thrust into her even harder, making the desk groan.
Her nails rake down my back, and I welcome the pain. I welcome anything she gives me.
“You feel so good,” she whispers against my mouth. “So fucking good.”
I grip her hips, angling deeper, and she lets out a strangled moan.
“Again,” I growl.
