Page 53 of Forced Bratva Hostage

Her legs are shaking, and her head is tilted back against the pillows of the sofa. I grab her jaw and force her eyes onto me.

“Come for me, Tia. I want you to come all over my cock and I want to watch your eyes when you do it.”

She shivers at my words, biting down on her lower lip. Her pussy throbs over me, and she tilts her hips forward.

My cock plunges into her again and she gasps, her lips parting.

I watch her, every movement of her lips, every breath—until she explodes.

Her body goes rigid, shuddering beneath me, her muscles spasming as wave after wave of her orgasm shoots through her.

My cock gets harder inside her, and she screams in surprise.

I explode as I thrust forward and release my pleasure into her.

For the longest time, we lie together on the sofa, our bodies locked together, our breathing heavy and loud.

The fire crackles, casting warmth over our skin, coated with a glittering layer of sweat.

I pull Tia onto me, laying her across my chest while I stroke my hand through her hair.

She snuggles against me, closing her eyes.

“Do you still want to have a hot bath?” I ask as my body sinks deeper into the sofa.

“Mm,” she answers, half asleep. But she makes no effort to move off me, so I keep brushing my fingers through her hair, enjoying the silky touch of it as it moves beneath my hand.

Both of us fall asleep.

It’s Tia who wakes up first, when the fire dies down to nothing but red coals and the cold night bites at her skin.

She shivers, and it wakes me up.

I push off the couch, lifting her in my arms, and carry her towards the bedroom.

“Wait,” she mutters. “I want a snack.”

The innocent request makes me chuckle as I change direction and carry her into the pantry.

She sits on the edge of the counter while I call out options.

“Canned meat?”

“No,” she laughs.

“Tuna?”

“No,” she says, horrified. “Tuna is not a midnight snack.”

I grin, knowing I’ve already found what she wants, but teasing her is too much fun.

“Dehydrated eggs?” I ask, even though I don’t have that.

“Andrei,” she huffs, scooting off the counter to come and see for herself.

I turn to block her, and she shoots me a warning, her blue eyes piercing into me.

“You’re mean when you get hungry,” I laugh.