Page 12 of Bratva’s Stolen Bride (Obsessed Bratva Bosses #1)

FELIKS

I don’t need asking twice, or to draw out my victory by making her beg more.

Half a second and I’m between her legs again, holding her hips down with one arm and shoving my fingers into her with the other, getting my mouth onto that sweet flesh as quickly as I can.

She screams as she comes, just as I said she would. Long and loud. And as she quakes in the aftermath, I smile. So fucking happy that I get to feel her orgasm. Even better that I did it. I made her come all over my face.

When she’s exhausted and over sensitised, destroyed by being edged over and over then exploding into pleasure, I give in. Shoving down my shorts, I have my rock-solid erection in my hand before I’ve considered. I shouldn’t. But I have the most primal need to mark her.

“Eating your tight little cunt has been the ultimate turn on,” I confess hoarsely, clambering to stand over her. “I can’t wait any longer.”

My fingers are slick from her pussy juices, and I groan as the pleasure raps between the base of my spine and the sensitive helmet of my cock. I’m primed, ready to come already, balls pulled up.

“So good.” I drag my gaze over her body. “Your tits…” I’m almost as incoherent with need as she was at the end. “Perfect. My good girl for coming like that. So strong to hold out.”

She’s young and innocent, watching me with her eyes as wide as dinner plates. Her eyes flits between my face and my erection, seemingly unable to choose.

I work my cock hard and fast, my fingers tight. It’s sharp and so sweet, this pleasure. It has the knife edge of how fucking filthy and perverted I am.

Laid back on the sofa as she is, her cheeks flushed, her tits exposed, her hair drying in cute frizz on her shoulders and her legs still spread wide, she’s the ultimate temptation.

Using brutal, desperate pumps of my hand, it’s a race against time. If I don’t come quickly, I’ll shove my cock in that delicate, puffy pink cunt of hers, or order her to open her mouth again and spurt down her throat.

“You’re so big,” she breathes. “Even bigger than I thought. Feliks…”

My name on her lips is the trigger I need.

My orgasm erupts, the base starting the wave of ecstasy that rolls up my length and then I’m pumping white fluid over her.

I don’t hold back. I spray her with it, exploding in ropes over her pussy. Her stomach. Those pert little tits I’d like to fuck. By the fourth pulse I shift forward and it sprays over her shocked face.

I roar as I come all over her, in a blatantly territorial claiming.

She isn’t my son’s. She’s not leaving me. She belongs to me, and I want everyone to know it. She’s mine to protect.

It racks through me, releasing all the pent-up need from hours of wanting her. I come a copious amount, milking every drop onto her skin. Somewhere in the waves of pleasure, there’s a truth that I can’t admit. This is unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

Payton’s mouth is an “O” as she watches me, pink cheeked.

This time I sink down next to her on the sofa.

Bracing my forearm beside her head, I lean over her, and trail my hand down her neck to where her bikini top is rucked up. There’s a splash of white liquid there, and I smear it.

“I imagined this when I put suncream on you,” I grit out.

She whimpers softly. My lizard brain keeps my fingers moving. Massaging it in like I did earlier.

I continue down, my mind clear in the same way as it was when I chased her as I work my semen into her skin. Thoroughly.

I want it so deep into her it won’t wash off. So she feels me in her as I do her. I don’t know how, but there was a Payton-shaped space in my heart, and she slotted right into it.

“You’re so beautiful,” I mutter. I’m compulsively rubbing it into her stomach now, moving across her skin until she’s shiny with it everywhere.

Except, there’s some sprayed between her legs, and as I touch her there, her breathing goes ragged again.

I pause. It’s one thing to put my come over her belly and imagine that part of her growing with my child. It’s another to push that seed over the pretty folds of her pussy.

“Only just orgasmed, but you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” I say under my breath. “Do you want more?”

“Feliks, please. Touch me.”

I’m lightheaded with her words as I slide my fingers over her clit and she moans.

“Shall I finger you with this? Can you feel the slippery, dirty, naughtiness of it?” I rub her little bud and smile as she bucks her hips.

“Yes. Please.”

“Good girl for asking.” I intensify the pressure around her clit, feeling for exactly the right amount. “I like it when you use your words.”

“Oh!” She throws her head back.

I murmur my approval, and switch to Russian as I pour out the excessive thoughts I’ve had since we met. That I want her to have my children. Be my wife. That I’d lay down my life for her if needed, but I fear I’d do much harder things too.

I describe how she makes me want to be a better man, but at the same time, by taking what I most desire—her—I’m being my worst self.

She’s irresistible.

There’s a splash of semen on her face, and as she gets close to coming, I smooth it over her cheek and paint it over her lips.

Then her tongue wets her bottom lip, and I instinctively nudge my finger into her mouth.

And that’s when she cries out, a climax that sparks from me invading her.

I ease off for her, nudging at the side of her clit to draw out her orgasm more.

My heartbeat thuds heavily, and I’m nervous for a second as I reach above her head and undo the binding, releasing her wrists.

I half expect her to move away, but she lets her arms fall, and when I pull her with me as I lie back, she comes without hesitation snuggling onto my chest when I urge her.

She’s sticky with my seed, and her cream, and I wouldn’t have her any other way. I wrap my arms around her.

“We’ve wrecked your sofa,” she says after a moment.

“Improved.” I drop a kiss on the top of her head, and a tightness in my heart eases. It’s been there for so long I didn’t even realise it could dissolve. I thought that painful knot was a twisted part of who I am. What I’ve done.

But no. All the violence and rage are gone. All that’s left is a need to protect this girl.

“With sea water and sand and…” She huffs with embarrassment.

“I’ll get you another one, and make a mess of that sofa too.” My mouth quirks up into a contented

smile.

There’s a pause as we both acknowledge that I’m talking about the future with a presumption that probably isn’t justified given I kidnapped her mere hours ago.

All the reasons this is doomed scroll through my head.

She’s my son’s girlfriend. She’s half my age. I abducted her. Her consent in this has been dubious at best. I’ve always been alone, I’ve never loved anyone, not even my own son. I don’t know anything about caring for another person. I’m not a sadist like Ivan, but I’m far from being a good man.

She lives in Richmond, whose Kingpin is part of the London mafia syndicate, who aren’t exactly friends of mine.

In fact, they’re my rivals and enemies, as well as the sort of idiots to get involved with a kidnapping that has nothing to do with them.

Except that living in Richmond, Payton is their business. And her sister, too.

Fuck. A problem for tomorrow.

I breathe in the scent of her hair, then adjust us so I can push to my feet with her in my arms, bridal style, with one arm beneath her knees.

She doesn’t object when I take her to the shower, strip her naked, and wash every inch of her.

Neither of us say anything when she’s looking up into my face and I let my fingers trail down between her legs.

This time, I don’t tease. And when her little hands find my throbbing cock—apparently my body thinks I’m a teenager again—it can’t last long. I have to brace against the tiles because the feeling of her is too good.

Jet lag catches up with us both as we dry off from the shower, and we collapse into bed, her tucked into my chest, my arm over her waist. Too tired to talk about what the morning might bring.