Page 38 of Bratva's Stolen Bride
I take a few quick steps, and the sound of her laughter, and her clinging to me makes my heart ready to float away, so I do it more, spinning her around in my arms until her feet are flying out and we’re both grinning at each other.
My heart is full to bursting. She’s mine. She’s my wife, in the way that counts—between us—even if we might have to do some legal and public stuff when we get back to London.
I just want to squeeze her so tightly she’s attached to me always.
Then she gets her lips on mine and we’re kissing as I spin her.
“My perfect girl,” I say as I eventually bring us to a dizzy halt. We cling to each other even once I’ve lowered her to the sand. “You make me so happy. I had no idea I could feel like this.”
“Phsshh.” She glances away, cheeks heating.
“It’s true.” I bend and pick her back up, this time in a bridal carry, her knees lying over my elbow. But she still has her hands linked around my neck.
The soft, white sand gives way to the crunch of gravel, and she snuggles into me.
“What now?” she asks as we reach the beach house.
“My sweet wife.” I allow her to slide down my chest a little, so my rock-solid erection pokes at her arse. “I think you know what I want to do.”
She presses her lips together, eyes sparkling as I elbow my way into the cool of the house, toeing off my shoes, kicking the door closed, and carrying her to our bedroom.
I toss her onto the bed, and she bounces with a squeak of surprise. Then I’m stripping off my clothes, buttons popping in my haste.
I’m desperate to be inside her.
“Are we going to consummate our marriage?” Her eyes are wide at my big, naked body.
I crawl over her and grab one of her hands as it comes up to touch my chest.
“In a way. I’m going to get you so wet you’ll be embarrassed by how soaking you are between the legs, make you come on my tongue until you’re wrecked.” I roll my hips, pressing my erection against her soft body. “Then I’ll break your little cunt open with my big cock and fuck you until I unload my balls right up against your womb, to get you pregnant. I’ll make youmine.”
17
PAYTON
Wet heat gushes between my legs at his filthy words.
My husband should be less intimidating naked, but he’s not. A cock that large, red, veined, and throbbing, is practically a weapon. His tattoos continue down his body, over his hips and thighs and I want to trace every single one. But since he’s on top of me, there are more urgent matters.
Feliks doesn’t ask or go slow.
“Forgive me,” he says abruptly, then rears up, grabs the middle of my delicate white dress in both hands, and tears it open.
He groans as my bikini is revealed.
I’m motionless in what I suppose should be horror, as the same violence is done to the string bikini that I’ve been bonding with this past day, his tattooed knuckles brushing my skin.
The sound of the rips and snaps is brutal in the hushed room, and I fight the urge to cover myself, suddenly shy.
Tattered fabric is strewn over my body and around, but Feliks doesn’t seem to care, because I’m revealed enough. My breasts are naked, and he lets out a feral grunt as he lowers himself to touch his mouth to my chest, kissing over my bare shoulders and then down to my nipples with a fierce intensity.
“I’ve wanted to worship these since I saw you in that bikini,” he says hoarsely, his lips not moving from my skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful, it’s unreal. And you belong to me. I’m the luckiest fucker alive.”
Then he’s shifted and has his mouth on one of my pebbled nipples and his fingers on the other. The graze of his teeth is a sign he’s not playing. I gasp as the mixture of pleasure with a slice of pain rips down me from my breasts to my clit. “Oh!”
“Yes,” he rasps, and tweaks my nipple, making me gasp.
I writhe against him, needing him closer. He has his hard-on pressed over my pussy, and his weight on me is arousing in a way I didn’t expect.
