Page 33 of Secret Baby of the Bratva
I strip, piece by piece, letting her watch. Her eyes track every movement, lingering on my cock when it springs free, hard and heavy, the tip already slick. She swallows, nervous, but doesn’t look away.
I crawl over her, bracing myself on one arm, guiding the head of my cock along her slit with the other. She gasps when it brushes her clit, her hips jerking up instinctively.
“It’ll hurt,” I warn, my voice rough. “But you’ll take me.”
Her eyes burn into mine. “I know.”
That’s all it takes.
I press forward, slow but unyielding. Her body resists at first, tight and trembling, but I push through inch by inch, stretching her around me. She gasps, nails clawing at my back, pain flashing across her face.
“Breathe,” I growl, kissing her hard, swallowing her whimpers. I give her a moment, then thrust deeper. She cries out, the sound sharp with pain and pleasure tangled together.
I hold still when I’m buried halfway, her cunt gripping me like a fist. My forehead drops to hers, my breath harsh. “You feel that? You’re mine now.”
Her answer is a shuddering moan, her hips lifting to take more.
I push deeper, relentless, until I’m seated fully inside her, her walls stretched tight around me. She trembles, whimpers, but the look in her eyes is wild, hungry.
Her body is stretched tight around me, heat clutching every inch of my cock. I stay buried deep, savoring the way she trembles beneath me, the small, helpless sounds spilling from her lips.
I draw back slowly, almost all the way, then thrust forward again, harder this time. She gasps, nails sinking into my shoulders, her back arching as her cunt grips me tight. The sting of her virgin body giving way is there, but so is the slick flood of arousal that coats me, proof of how badly she wants this.
“Dimitri—” My name breaks from her throat like a plea.
I catch her mouth in another kiss, devouring the sound, thrusting deeper until I bottom out. She cries against my lips, half pain, half raw need, and I groan into her mouth, the feel of her nearly undoing me.
“You’re mine now,” I repeat, driving into her again. “Every inch of you.”
Her moan is desperate, high and wrecked, her body straining to take me. I set a rhythm, slow at first, letting her adjust, each stroke grinding deep, stretching her until she’s shaking. Her tight walls drag against my cock, milking me with every thrust.
Her legs wrap around my waist, holding me closer, forcing me deeper. She doesn’t even realize what she’s asking for, but I give it to her, slamming harder, faster, until the headboard rattles against the wall. The candle flickers wildly, shadows leaping as the storm rages outside, echoing the chaos inside us.
Her voice rises with each thrust, gasps turning into cries, cries into moans that fill the room. She clutches me like she’ll drown without me, her nails raking down my back, her cunt tightening, fluttering, desperate for release.
I shift, grinding against her clit with every stroke. The effect is instant—she screams my name, her body convulsing as she shatters around me. Her pussy clamps down hard, milking my cock, soaking me as she thrashes beneath me.
The sight of her coming undone pushes me over the edge. I pound into her mercilessly, chasing my own release, every thrust a claim, every groan torn from deep in my chest. Her walls squeeze me so tight I can’t hold back.
With a final, brutal thrust, I bury myself to the hilt and spill inside her, heat flooding her as my orgasm rips through me. My groan is low, guttural, teeth bared against her throat as I mark her with every pulse of my cock.
For a long moment, the only sounds are our ragged breaths and the rain hammering against the windows. She trembles under me, still clutching, still gasping, her lips swollen and her body wrecked.
I stay buried deep, unwilling to pull away, my hand cradling her jaw, forcing her to meet my eyes. The line we walked is gone, burned away with the storm.
She’s mine now. Entirely.
Chapter Fifteen - Annie
The first thing I notice is the quiet.
No thunder rolling over the hills, no rain hammering the glass. Only stillness, the kind that comes after a storm tears itself out and leaves the world emptied. Pale morning light bleeds through the curtains, washing the edges of the room in silver.The air smells faintly of wax and smoke from the candle that guttered out sometime in the night.
I lie there for a moment, still tangled in the heavy sheets, listening to the silence. My body aches in places I didn’t know it could, a soreness that carries the echo of every movement, every thrust, every way he claimed me. The memory slams into me before I can stop it—his mouth on mine, his hand gripping my thigh, his voice low and raw in my ear.
Heat flares under my skin, quick and dangerous. I roll onto my side, breath shallow, and my gaze falls on him. Dimitri sleeps beside me, or at least he looks like he does.
The covers are low across his hips, his chest bare, the wounds on his arm wrapped neat and stark against skin. Even in rest, he doesn’t look unguarded. His face is still composed, jaw set, like sleep is just another form of vigilance.
