Page 36 of Crystal Veil (Rostov Bratva #2)

He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, and leads me toward the house.

The future stretches before us, uncertain and dangerous, but I'm no longer afraid.

Because this time, I chose him. Because love isn't a curse in my bloodline, it's a choice.

And because Renat Rostov isn't my past. He's my future.

The bedroom door clicks shut behind us. The soft light from the bedside lamp paints golden shadows across his sharp features as he turns to face me.

In the space of a heartbeat, his restraint shatters.

He's on me with the desperation of a man starved, his calloused hands threading through my hair as he claims my mouth with bruising intensity.

The taste of him floods my senses, making my knees weak.

His lips are firm and demanding, yet there's something different in the way he kisses me now.

Something that feels like reverence beneath the hunger.

He angles my head, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every corner of my mouth until I'm breathless and clinging to him like a lifeline. When he finally releases my lips, I can barely stand. My legs feel like water, and I'm grateful for the strong arm wrapped around my waist, holding me upright.

My head falls back as he blazes a trail of fire down the column of my throat, each kiss a brand upon my skin.

His lips are soft but insistent, leaving a path of heat that makes me shiver despite the warmth of the room.

I can feel the slight rasp of his five o'clock shadow against my skin, and the sensation sends liquid heat straight to my core.

A trembling gasp escapes when his teeth graze my pulse point, the sensation so intense it's almost painful. He lingers there, his tongue soothing the spot before he sucks gently, and I know he's marking me. The thought sends a thrill through my entire body.

His powerful frame presses against me, all hard muscle and masculine heat, consuming every inch of space between us until there's nothing left but him.

I can feel the solid wall of his chest against my breasts, the steady beat of his heart that matches my own frantic rhythm.

His cologne—dark and expensive with notes of cedar and bergamot—wraps around me like a cocoon, making me dizzy with want.

His hands are impatient, desperate, and trembling slightly as they roam my body. The silk of my dress pools around my waist as he pushes it up, his fingers skimming along my thighs with reverent touches that make me arch against him. The delicate lace of my panties tears like paper in his grip.

When his finger slides into my slick heat, I arch against him with a broken cry that echoes off the high ceilings. The intrusion is sudden and perfect, and I'm ready for him.

“You're so fucking wet, kiska ,” he groans against my ear, his voice rough with want and tinged with his Russian accent. His finger curves inside me, finding that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids and my nails dig into his shoulders.

He works me with unerring rhythm, his movements deliberate and knowing.

His other arm bands around my waist to lift me effortlessly, reminding me of his strength and the way he moves through the world with the confidence of a king.

The room spins as he deposits me onto the bed, the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets cool against my fevered skin.

My heart hammers against my ribs as he withdraws his finger and brings it to his mouth, his dark eyes never leaving mine as he tastes me. The sight is so erotic, so possessive, that I feel another rush of wetness between my thighs.

“My sweet pussy,” he rumbles, the endearment both tender and possessive. His hands make quick work of my remaining clothes until I'm bare beneath him, vulnerable and wanting. The cool air kisses my skin, making my nipples harden into tight peaks.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against my lips, the words a whispered command that makes my breath hitch.

Instead of answering with words, I reach for him, my fingers working at his belt with trembling urgency.

The leather is supple, and I can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt as I fumble with the buckle.

His cock springs free, heavy and hard, the tip already glistening with arousal.

It’s thick and long, with prominent veins that pulse with his heartbeat.

The sight makes my mouth water and my core clench with anticipation.

I shift lower on the bed, positioning myself until I'm level with his cock.

The first taste of him on my tongue draws a sharp intake of breath from above.

He's salty and masculine, with a hint of something dark and addictive that makes me moan around his length.

I take him deeper, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head while my hand works his shaft in slow, deliberate strokes.

His skin is like silk over steel, warm and pulsing with life.

“ Blyat! Kiska ...” The Russian curse falls from his lips as his hips surge forward, his control fracturing.

His hands tangle in my hair, not pulling but guiding, and I love the way he loses himself in the pleasure I'm giving him.

The powerful Renat Rostov, feared by all of Miami, is undone by my mouth.

I can feel his thighs trembling beneath my hands, the muscles taut with restraint. He's holding back, trying not to hurt me, but I want all of him. I want to push him past the edge of his legendary control.

“Mmm, yes, like that,” he murmurs, his voice strained with pleasure. The praise fills me with warmth, and I redouble my efforts.

I angle my head to take him deeper, relaxing my throat as he slides home.

The stretch is intense, but I breathe through it, focusing on the sounds he's making.

Low groans and whispered Russian that I don't understand but that make my pussy pulse with need.

The rhythm builds between us. His careful thrusts, my eager acceptance.

When I add a gentle suction as he withdraws, the sound he makes is purely animalistic.

Suddenly, he pulls away, dragging me to the edge of the bed with commanding hands.

My legs find their place over his broad shoulders, and the vulnerability of the position makes me suck in a gasp.

I'm completely open to him, exposed and wanting, and the way he looks at me like I'm a feast he's about to devour makes me tremble.

“You're such a good girl,” he breathes, his eyes dark with approval. “You're so beautiful when you suck my cock.”

The praise mixed with the crude words sends fire flooding through me.

He positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock teasing my slick folds.

He slides up and down, barely grazing my swollen clit, and I nearly sob with need.

The sensation is maddening, too much and not enough all at once.

My hands fist in the sheets as I arch toward him, desperate for more. “Please, Renat... fuck me... fuck me now,” I beg, shame forgotten in the face of my overwhelming need. I've never begged for anything in my life, but this man reduces me to my most basic desires.

When he finally pushes into me, the stretch is exquisite torture.

My body opens for him inch by inch, accommodating his impressive girth as I cry out his name.

The burn is intense and perfect, and I feel completely filled, completely claimed.

Our eyes lock as he leans over me, his mouth finding my breast, his tongue swirling around my nipple until I'm a trembling mess beneath him.

He moves with purposeful aggression, his hips snapping against mine with a rhythm that echoes through the room.

Each thrust drives me higher, my world narrowing to the feel of him moving inside me, the weight of his body covering mine, the intoxicating scent of his skin.

I can feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he moves, the way he fills me completely.

“Yes,” I whimper as his fingers trail fire across my skin, mapping every curve and hollow.

His touch is possessive, claiming every inch of me as his.

My body trembles on the edge of release, desperate for the final push that will send me over.

The tension coils tighter and tighter in my core, building to an almost unbearable peak.

“Come for me,” he commands, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. The words are my undoing, the final push I need.

“Oh God!” The orgasm crashes into me, my body convulsing around him as pleasure tears through every nerve ending.

I'm lost in the sensation, my vision going white as waves of ecstasy wash over me.

He watches me fall apart with fierce satisfaction, his own control finally snapping at the sight of my release.

Two more powerful thrusts and he's following me over the edge, his release flooding me with heat as he collapses against me with a guttural groan that reverberates through his chest. I can feel him pulsing inside me, the warmth of his cum mixing with my own arousal.

In the aftermath, as our breathing slowly returns to normal, he gathers me against his side with surprising tenderness.

His larger frame molds around mine protectively, and I feel safe in a way I haven't in years.

When he brushes a strand of hair from my face and presses a soft kiss to my cheek, I feel something deeper than desire, more permanent than passion.

As sleep claims me in his arms, I know that whatever tomorrow brings, this moment has changed everything.

The dangerous world of the Bratva, with its violence and betrayal, all fades away in the circle of his arms. For now, there's only this, only us, and the promise of a future I'm finally brave enough to claim.