Page 97 of Bratva Bidder
The air between us ignites instantly, crackling with desire. Her breath quickens, lips parting, gaze dropping briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes. I know that look—hunger masked by defiance.
Suddenly aware of how close we’ve gotten, I start to step back, to retreat before we both burn ourselves alive again. But her hand catches my wrist—gentle yet unyielding.
“Don’t,” she whispers softly. “Don’t walk away.”
I still, pulse hammering through my veins. My voice is a tight, controlled murmur. “What do you want from me, Nadya?”
Her gaze holds mine, eyes burning, vulnerable beneath their fire. “You,” she breathes. “Right now. I need you.”
She takes my hand, guiding it boldly beneath the hem of her blouse, letting my fingers brush against the smooth, warm skin of her stomach. Her breath hitches, eyes locked onto mine.
“You need me?” I rasp, pulse racing harder, heat igniting my blood. “Or just someone to scratch an itch?”
Her fingers curl tighter around mine, guiding me higher until my palm grazes the underside of her breast. Her breath shudders, eyes darkening with need. “I needyou,” she insists. “Only you.”
That breaks my restraint completely.
I push forward, gripping her hips and lifting her roughly onto the desk, scattering the papers as she gasps softly. My mouth finds hers instantly—hot, hard, possessive. Her hands knot into my hair, nails scraping along my scalp, sending electric shocks down my spine.
She kisses me back desperately, hungrily, matching every stroke of my tongue, every bite of my teeth. Her legs part instinctively, pulling me between them, her skirt bunching high around her thighs.
I grip her waist, yanking her closer, feeling her body arch against mine, the heat of her pressing against me. Her breath is frantic, lips swollen and parted.
“Konstantin,” she moans breathlessly against my mouth, hips grinding impatiently against mine. “Now.”
With a growl, I slide my hand beneath her skirt, pushing fabric aside until my fingers graze the soft, scorching heat between her thighs. She cries out softly, hips jerking forward eagerly, desperately seeking more.
My thumb strokes roughly, possessively, finding the sensitive spot that makes her moan. She arches hard into me, gripping my shoulders, her head falling back in a silent plea.
“Look at me,” I demand, voice low and rough.
Her gaze locks onto mine, heavy-lidded and filled with raw need.
“I want you to watch me make you come,” I murmur.
She shudders, nodding breathlessly, her eyes never leaving mine as I slowly push two fingers deep inside her slick warmth. She gasps, lips parting wider, eyes fluttering as pleasure grips her.
“That’s it,” I whisper roughly, kissing her throat. “Come apart for me, Nadya.”
And with a moan of surrender, she does.
Her body trembles under mine, still pulsing from the release I just pulled from her with nothing but my hand and mouth. Her eyes are half-lidded, dazed, lips parted as if she’s still trying to remember how to breathe. She’s never looked more fucking beautiful. Or more mine.
I press a kiss to her neck, just below her ear, and feel her shiver. She’s still sensitive. Still burning.
I don’t stop.
My mouth trails down, slow and greedy, across her throat, tasting salt and skin, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark she’ll notice in the morning. She gasps when I do it, a tiny sound, but her fingers are already sinking into my hair, tugging, anchoring me closer.
“You make me lose my mind,” I murmur against her collarbone, teeth grazing her. “You always have.”
I peel her top over her head, my hands rough and uncoordinated, too desperate to pretend otherwise. She lifts her arms wordlessly, letting me strip it off, revealing the bare skin beneath.
No bra. Fuck.
My mouth is on her breasts before I finish the thought, kissing the swell of one while my palm covers the other, thumb brushing over the tight peak. Her back arches into me as I drag my tongue across her nipple, then suck it deep into my mouth.
“Konstantin…” she breathes, twisting beneath me.
