Page 9 of Brutal Monster (Zhukov Bratva #2)

CHAPTER EIGHT

VANYA

H er bedroom is dark except for the city lights spilling through the windows. Moonlight washes across her king-sized bed—crisp white sheets against a backdrop of burgundy walls. Like the sky before dawn breaks.

I lay her down gently, watching her hair fan out across the pillow. For a moment, I just look at her—this woman who's consumed my thoughts, who's made me break my own rules about mixing business with pleasure.

"What?" she asks, her voice husky.

"You're beautiful." The words come out rough, honest.

A smile plays at the corner of her mouth. "Are you going to just look?"

I lean down, capture that smile with my lips. "I'm going to do much more than look."

My fingers find the remaining buttons of her blouse, working them open one by one. I peel the silk away from her skin, revealing a black lace bra beneath. The contrast against her golden skin takes my breath away.

"This too," I murmur, reaching behind her to unclasp it.

When her breasts spill free, I cup them in my palms, feeling their perfect weight. Her nipples harden under my touch. I lower my head, take one into my mouth, and she arches beneath me with a gasp that sends heat straight to my groin.

"Vanya," she breathes, her hands in my hair.

I trail kisses down her stomach as I work open her pants, sliding them down her long legs along with her underwear. She kicks them away impatiently. Now she's completely naked, watching me with those green eyes that burn even in the dim light.

"You're wearing too many clothes," she says, reaching for my shirt buttons.

I catch her wrists, pin them gently above her head. "Patience."

"I'm not a patient woman."

"Tonight you will be." I kiss her deeply, feeling her surrender into it.

I take my time undressing, aware of her eyes tracking every movement. When I'm finally naked, I rejoin her on the bed, my body covering hers. The feel of her skin against mine is electric—better than I imagined during all those sleepless nights.

Her legs part for me, but it's an invitation I'm not ready to accept. Not yet. I want to savor this, want to learn every inch of her body before I claim it.

I kiss my way down her neck, between her breasts, across her stomach. Her breathing quickens as I move lower. When I reach the apex of her thighs, I look up at her face, wanting to see her expression as I taste her for the first time.

Her eyes are heavy-lidded, lips parted. She's magnificent.

I lower my head, run my tongue along her center. She bucks against my mouth with a sharp cry. The taste of her is intoxicating—better than the finest vodka, more addictive than power.

"Oh god," she moans as I explore her with my tongue.

I could stay here for hours, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her grip the sheets. But I have other plans. I pull away, earning a frustrated sound from her that turns to surprise as I flip onto my back.

"Come here," I command, guiding her to straddle my face.

She pauses briefly, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, before gracefully positioning herself above me.

My hands firmly clasp her hips, guiding her down to meet my eager mouth.

From this vantage point, every detail is laid bare—the subtle transformation of her expression as waves of pleasure cascade over her, her breasts gently swaying in rhythm with her movements, and the exquisite curve of her spine arching elegantly as she begins to rock against my tongue.

"Vanya,"

She gasps softly, as I devour her, consuming her slick pussy with an intensity that envelops us both.

"Oh fuck."

My fingers dig into the supple flesh of her ass, feeling the tension and warmth beneath my grip as I draw her closer.

My tongue dances with purpose against her most sensitive spot, eliciting a symphony of gasps and moans.

Her thighs, smooth and inviting, begin to quiver gently on either side of my face.

The signs are unmistakable—she's teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

"Let go," I whisper against her. "I want to feel you come on my tongue."

The vibration of my words sends a shiver down her spine, pushing her over the edge.

She cries out, her voice a symphony of ecstasy, as she grinds against my mouth, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm.

I don’t stop, my determination unwavering, as I savor every moment.

I want more, yearn for every part of her, to feel the full measure of her passion enveloping us both.

My fingers, slick and eager, glide inside her silken heat, curving with delicate precision to find that secret, sacred spot.

Her body responds instantly, back arching like a bowstring drawn taut, as her inner walls grip my fingers in a velvety embrace.

My tongue continues its dance, building her pleasure one languid stroke at a time, driving her inexorably toward another summit of ecstasy.

Her breath hitches, muscles tensing, as she climbs higher, ever higher, on the waves of sensation my touch evokes.

"I can't," she pants, her breath ragged and uneven. "It's too much."

"You can," I insist, my voice firm and encouraging as I increase the pressure, my movements relentless and rhythmic, hard and fast. "Give me another."

Her resistance crumbles and she surrenders, rocking against me with wild abandon, chasing the waves of pleasure I'm determined to bestow upon her.

When the second orgasm crashes over her, it's a tidal wave, even more powerful than the first. She calls my name, a blend of prayer and curse, her voice trembling.

Her entire body quakes, a symphony of sensation.

Yet, I don't relent. I'm greedy for Inez's pleasure, addicted to the symphony of sounds she emits, the way her body undulates in response. I want to see how much she can endure, how completely I can unravel her, piece by piece.

The third orgasm builds slowly, like a deep, resonant wave rising from the depths of the ocean.

Her movements shift from fluid to a frantic, primal dance, driven by desperation and need.

When it finally crashes over her like a tidal wave, she collapses forward, her trembling hands clutching the headboard for support.

Tears stream down her flushed cheeks, not born of pain, but from the overwhelming intensity of sensations I've coaxed from her body.

Only then do I gently release her, guiding her to slide down beside me.

She lies there, utterly boneless and spent, her energy drained yet fulfilled.

I gather her tenderly against my chest, my fingers weaving through her hair as she struggles to reclaim her breath, each inhale and exhale a testament to the storm we've weathered together.

"That was..." she begins, but the words elude her, lost in the wake of her experience.

I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, tasting the salt of her exertion. "Just the beginning," I whisper, a promise of more to come.

Her eyes find mine, wide with realization. "The beginning?"

"I told you," I murmur, shifting her beneath me once more, settling snugly between her soft, welcoming thighs. The moonlight dances across her skin, illuminating her flushed cheeks and the anticipation in her eyes. "I intend to have all of you."

Her hand reaches up, fingers trembling slightly as they trace the contours of my lips, leaving a tingling trail. "Then take me," she whispers, her voice a blend of invitation and longing.

Carefully, I position myself at her entrance, my gaze locked onto her face, watching the myriad of emotions play out as I thrust inside her, watching her eyes widen at the sensation.

Her heat envelops me, slick and tight, a perfect fit that makes me grit my teeth against the overwhelming pleasure.

I start with slow, deep strokes, savoring each inch of her.

"Fuck, Inez," I growl, my control slipping. "You feel incredible."

Her nails rake down my back, urging me on. I comply, picking up the pace, driving into her with purpose now. The bed creaks beneath us, a rhythmic counterpoint to her breathless moans. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper.

"Harder," she demands, her voice rough with need.

I grip her hips, angling them upward, and slam into her. The sound she makes—half gasp, half scream—sends fire racing through my veins. I watch her face as I pound into her, memorizing every expression of pleasure that crosses her features.

"Turn over," I command, withdrawing suddenly.

She complies without hesitation, rolling onto her stomach. I pull her hips up, positioning her on her knees before me. The sight of her like this—ass raised, back arched, looking over her shoulder with those hungry green eyes—nearly undoes me.

I enter her again in one smooth thrust, earning a sharp cry that echoes off the walls. My hands grip her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh as I set a punishing rhythm. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, primal and urgent.

"Touch yourself," I order, watching as one of her hands slides beneath her body.

Her walls clench around me as she finds her clit, and I have to pause to regain control. When I start moving again, it's with renewed intensity, each thrust deeper than the last.

"Get on top," I tell her, suddenly needing to see her face again.

I flip onto my back, and she straddles me with fluid grace. Her hands press against my chest as she sinks down onto my cock, taking me to the hilt. The sight of her above me, hair wild, skin flushed with pleasure, is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

She begins to ride me, setting her own pace. I let her take control for a moment, enjoying the view as she chases her pleasure. My hands roam her body, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over hardened nipples.

When she starts to lose rhythm, I know she's close. My hand cracks against her ass, the sharp sound punctuating her surprised gasp. I do it again, harder this time, watching her eyes darken with lust.

"You like that?" I ask, though her reaction makes the answer obvious.

"Yes," she hisses, grinding down harder.

I grip her hips, taking back control, thrusting up into her as my hand connects with her ass again. The red mark my palm leaves is oddly satisfying—a temporary brand.

"I'm going to come inside you," I tell her, my voice rough with restraint. "Fill you completely."

Her eyes lock with mine, something primal passing between us. She nods, a barely perceptible movement.

"Yes," she breathes. "Inside me."

The permission breaks something loose in me. I flip us again, pinning Inez beneath me, and drive into her with abandon. Her legs wrap around me, heels digging into my lower back, urging me deeper.

"Come for me first," I demand, reaching between us to circle her clit. "One more time."

She fractures around me, walls clenching tight, her cry muffled against my shoulder.

The feeling of her orgasm triggers my own, and I thrust deep one final time, emptying myself inside her with a guttural groan.

Pleasure crashes over me in waves as I fill her, claiming her in the most primitive way.

"Mine," I growl against her neck, my voice a low rumble as I begin to move with deliberate intensity.

Her legs coil around my waist, pulling me further into her embrace. "Yours," she whispers, her voice a breathy affirmation.

I collapse beside her, both of us breathing hard. For a long moment, neither of us speaks. I pull her against me, her back to my chest, my arm draped possessively over her waist. I press my lips to her shoulder, tasting the salt of her skin.

"Stay," she murmurs, already half-asleep.

It's not a request I should grant. Staying the night crosses a line—moves this from fucking to something more intimate. More dangerous. But as her breathing evens out, her body warm against mine, I find I can't bring myself to leave.

"I'll stay," I whisper, though I'm not sure she hears me.

As sleep claims me, a distant warning bell sounds in my mind. This woman could be my undoing. And in this moment, with her nestled against me, I'm not sure I care.

This was never merely a transaction, nor was it just an alliance of convenience. From the instant my eyes locked with hers, a fundamental shift occurred in the fabric of my world.

With her wrapped in my embrace, I make a silent vow. I will protect this woman with everything I have. I will destroy anyone who threatens her. I will make her mine in every way that matters.

Even if it means war.