Page 89 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

I drag Viktor back up the length of my body, bringing his face to mine, and I swirl my tongue in his mouth, tasting myself on his lips.

When we first walked up the stairs, I thought our interaction would be sweet and slow, but I don’t mind the frenzied act it has become.

Viktor pushes his pants down just far enough to free himself and then position his length at my opening. I lift my hips to take him in, and he pulls away, flicking his eyebrow up in amusement when I growl with impatience. I curl my legs around his lower back, hooking him against me, and his amusement fades to need. To desire.

He dives into me in one pulse and his pace never wavers. It is domineering and crushing, and I wonder if my cries of pleasure can be heard by the neighbors.

It doesn’t take long for my body to be ready, for Viktor to get me back to the pinnacle of pleasure. I try to hold it off, to stay with him as long as I can, but when he nips at my earlobe with his teeth and whispers for me to surrender to him, I have no choice.

Viktor follows a second later, screwing his face up in beautiful torment.

When we finish, I lay my head on his chest and breathe in the woodsy, salty scent of him.

I’m angry with Viktor for lying to me. I’m angry with him for manipulating me rather than telling me the truth. Perhaps I always will be. Perhaps anger will be my default emotion with him. That might be the price I pay for being with this strong, stubborn, protective man.

He curls his arm around me and kisses the top of my head, sighing in contentment.

If it is, it seems like a fair price to pay.

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