Page 34 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

Molly

I’ve never been able to let my guard down. My lifestyle doesn’t allow it. I am constantly on my toes, ready for the next disaster to come around the corner. Ready for whatever life has to throw at me.

But with Viktor’s arms wrapped around my body, my defenses are disabled.

I can’t think about anything except the warmth of his body on mine. I can’t focus on a single thought beyond the way his hands move through my hair and the way his strong thigh presses between my legs.

I open up to him, spreading my legs for him, and he fills the space I make for him and then some. He drags his hands from my hair to my waist and lower until his hands are curled around my legs. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his middle, drawing him close.

His mouth is commanding. He flicks his tongue across my lower lip, coaxing me into a deeper kiss, and the moment I respond, Viktor takes. He claims.

Considering it’s a first kiss—not counting the one in the kitchen earlier—I expect it to be a fumble of teeth and tongues as we learn the rhythm of each other, but this feels natural. It feels like what kissing is supposed to be. A give and take of sucking and probing and licking. A symphony of breaths and pants and small moans that could be coming from me, but also might be coming from Viktor.

I dig my fingers into the deep muscle of his back, holding onto his shoulder blades like handholds, and Viktor presses me against the wall.

There is a vague thought in the back of my mind that I was in this position earlier in the day. With Greg the grabby clerk. Except, then, I felt trapped and terrified and disgusting. Now, I feel like I’m liquid fire. Like my body is burning from the inside out and Viktor is fanning the flames.

He pins me to the wall with his hips and hooks his fingers under my shirt. He tugs up on it sharply and the threadbare fabric rips in an instant. I’m too turned on to care that it’s my only shirt now that the rest of my things are stuck in the locker at the gym.

Viktor follows the rip up my center and uses both hands to tear the collar of the shirt. Then he slides the material off my shoulders and explores the newly exposed skin with his lips.

His mouth follows the dips of my collarbone and the smooth plane of my sternum until he’s buried between my breasts. I tip my head back and sigh as he pushes the cotton material of my bra aside with his mouth and kisses the skin hidden underneath.

I clench my legs more tightly around him, circling my hips against his, and it’s Viktor’s turn to sigh. His warm breath washes over my breasts, and I want more of it. So, I reach around to my back and unclasp the bra. When it falls on the floor with the ripped remains of my shirt, Viktor pulls back and looks at me.

His blue eyes are hazed over. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was drunk.

His lips are red and swollen, his eyes are black with need, and he’s breathing heavily. He is raw and beautiful.

The man who has kidnapped me and locked me away in his luxurious home is absolutely gorgeous.

“I think you mean intimidating,” he says, leaning down to flick his tongue over my nipple. I jump at the contact.

I must have spoken out loud, and I’m embarrassed for him to see me so out of sorts.

“I meant what I said.”

His eyes spark with amusement and something else. Something I don’t immediately recognize.

“Is that so?” he asks.

I grind my hips against the growing bulge at his front and nod.

Suddenly, he whips me around and heads towards the bed. Air rushes across my now-exposed back, and I flinch and curl into his chest even more tightly, but in another second, Viktor tosses me on the bed.

I bounce on the mattress, momentarily amazed by the softness before my attention is directed elsewhere. Namely to Viktor crawling over my body and unbuttoning my jeans.

His blue eyes pierce mine as he drags the denim down my body, exposing my boring cotton panties. For a second, I wish I was the kind of girl who could afford lacy undergarments that barely cover the necessities, but the thought is gone when it becomes clear Viktor couldn’t care less.

Like he did with my shirt, he grabs a handful of the well-worn material and tugs. There is a ripping sound and then cool air moves over my now-exposed body.

“Good thing you’re buying me new clothes,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice the thick layer of lust in my voice.

His hands start at my ankles and press upwards over my knees and my thighs. Then he pushes my thighs apart and settles between them, his breath warm over my skin.

“Don’t pretend you’re thinking about your clothes right now,” he whispers, sending shivers straight up my spine. I arch my back against them, and he smiles.

Then he buries his mouth in me.

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