Page 13 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

I’m definitely past the point of stopping—unless she says the word.

That doesn’t seem likely. Her moans are soft, pleated with tentative desire. Like she doesn’t want to make a noise. Doesn’t want to lose her inhibitions completely. She’s tense, even while I fuck her.

And that only makes me more determined to make her unravel.

I push her back against the bathroom counter and bear down on her, pushing myself deeper. Her eyes pop open with shock as I consume as much of her as I possibly can.

She doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t seem to want to. She just looks amazed that I can make her feel anything at all.

And that’s when I get it—it’s not that she’s never had sex.

She’s never hadgoodsex.

She doesn’t yet understand what her body is capable of when she gives everything to me.

I desperately want to rid her of the old-fashioned wedding dress she’s wearing. I want to rip the aged fabric off her and gaze at her naked breasts as they bounce with every plunge of my hips.

I settle for running my hand over her chest. She whimpers as I brush against her nipples. Her lips part. Her eyes are limpid with lust.

But I can sense the desperation in her. It’s probably that very desperation that’s causing her to go with this in the first place.

This is total fucking madness, after all. She just saw something that not many people live to tell about: two of the most powerful dons in Las Vegas—hell, two of the most powerful dons in the world—squaring off with gunfire. And now we’re in the bathroom of this nightmare club, and we’refucking?I’m sure her mind is completely screwed.

Her body is about to be completely screwed, too.

A moan rips from her lips as I increase the speed and intensity of my thrusts. Apparently, I need this release more than I realized. It’s been a minute since I last let off some steam. I haven’t fucked like this since…

“Oh, God,” she whimpers softly. “Oh God… what’s… what…?”

She doesn’t even finish the sentence, because a second later, I feel her orgasm break. Her walls pulse around my cock, trying to choke me out for what feels like minutes before she finally calms and dissolves into a puddle of near-silent moans.

Just when her orgasm recedes, I let myself go, spurting inside her with a heavy load that’s a result of months of abstinence. Her nails dig into my back, keeping me as close as she can get me. I welcome the sharp burst of pain.

I don’t stay inside her long after that. When I pull out without warning, she nearly falls forward off the counter. She gasps, but I manage to catch her in time.

Her hands latch onto my shoulders, preventing me from moving away like I’d planned. And all I can think is…

What the fuck have I done?

How have I allowed that shit show to devolve into a quick, filthy fuck in the bathroom of one of the seediest clubs in Las Vegas?

It was her innocence that did it.

No—notonlythe innocence. It was the combination of the innocence and the violence.

Blood on a wedding dress.

A body like sin with eyes like hope itself.

I try and move away again, but her nails dig into my arms. “Please,” she begs, “wait.” She’s looking down as though terrified of the request she’s just made.

“Who are you running from?” I ask.

Her answer is immediate. “Everyone,” she whispers. “Everyone.”

I zip myself up and then stroke a finger underneath her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “How bad is it?”

She hesitates for a long time. “Bad.”

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