Page 46 of Forced By the Obsessed Bratva

“You’re perfect,” he said, voice low. “And you’re mine.”

His hands were everywhere.

On my skin. My waist. My breasts. The curve of my hips.

Every place he touched felt branded, like he was rewriting me with the heat of his palms.

I rocked against him, chasing the friction, the contact, the relief I hadn’t found on my own hours earlier.

“Matvey,” I whispered, breathless. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You are—”

“I am your husband,” he grunted beneath me, voice rough. “You’re doing it already.”

He was right. Hewasmy husband; he had every right to my body, and I wanted him as much as he wanted me.

I wanted to feel him inside me, to feel the heat from his body inside mine.

He sat up in one fluid motion, pulling me tighter into his lap. His arms wrapped around me like he didn’t know how to let go. Like he didn’t want to.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, dragging his mouth down my neck. “You wear my shirt…roam my house…touch yourself like I don’t have the right to ruin you myself.”

Heat flashed through me.

“I didn’t know you were watching,” I said quietly.

He froze. Then pulled back enough to meet my eyes. “I see everything,kotyonok. Every single move you make.”

I didn’t argue.

Because he was right.

A part of me had known. Maybe even wanted him to see me and how much I needed him.

“Do it,” I said, my voice barely more than a breath. “Ruin me.”

His eyes burned.

Then his mouth was on mine again, fierce, consuming, while his hands pushed his pants down just enough to free himself.

I felt the hard press of him against me, thick and ready, and all I could do was whimper as he lined himself up.

But then he paused.

One hand slid between us, fingers brushing through my slick heat, rubbing slow circles against my clit until my head dropped against his shoulder, my breath fractured.

“Matvey—”

“You’re soaked,” he growled. “For me?”

I nodded, too far gone to pretend otherwise.

Then he thrust up—slow, deep, and unforgiving.

I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders.

He filled me like he’d been waiting for it. Like we were made for this exact destruction.

“Look at me,” he rasped. “You want me, don’t you? You’ve wanted me since the first time we met, since the first time I kissed you?”