Page 33 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

One Year Later

Laughter rolled from every corner of the garden—deep, booming bursts from the Bratva men, the bright, uninhibited giggles of children, and the occasional sharp teasing from someone in the family.

A jazz trio played softly from the far end of the terrace, their music threading seamlessly into the hum of voices.

It was Luka’s first birthday—our little bundle of joy, the one whose arrival changed my life forever.

Luka sat sturdy, bright-eyed, with frosting smeared from his chin to the tip of his nose.

His tiny lips formed an adorable smile, those small hands clutching the remains of his first birthday cake like it was a treasure.

The chubby little boy was a spitting image of his father; the only trait of mine in him was his eyes, green and cute.

Simon stood somewhere at a corner, grumbling and complaining to Noah about how we let baby Luka eat too much sugar.

“Relax, Simon, I’m sure a little frosting won’t kill my nephew—he’s just a baby,” Noah said, looking up at him and throwing a piece of cake in his mouth.

Simon didn’t respond with words—just a low, throaty growl that clearly said he wasn’t convinced.

Those two had become buddies now—Simon and my brother Noah, who’d been living with us at the house for the past year. He’d become quite the troublemaker, adopting the Bratva style and values, always trailing Simon like a mini bodyguard.

At first, I tried to dissuade him, but the boy was headstrong, determined to learn the way of the Bratva. It was impossible to keep him away from that life now that he was living in the middle of it. Literally.

Egor had promised that the boy would be fine, especially since Simon was more than willing to teach him the basics. Noah learned to talk like them, dress like them, think like them, and even walk like them.

The little boy was becoming a man real quick.

Emmy was already playing auntie roles with baby Luka, and the fastest way to get on her bad side was to make the boy cry. She always watched over him like a mother hen, keeping him safe from whatever she thought was dangerous.

The twins—Micah and Zara—were taller now, shedding the softness of youth and stepping into themselves. Their eyes held that same quick intelligence, the kind that saw more than they said, and their banter was sharper, more confident.

They’d enrolled together at a prestigious boarding school—by choice. They’d wanted the challenge, the independence, the world outside the estate walls. And it suited them.

I wasn’t going to cage them, even though all I wanted was to keep them safe—from themselves and others. But they made their choice, and I respected that.

Things had finally fallen in place—a lot better than I had anticipated. My family was safe and happy, and my son was growing up fast with both his parents alive and well. And my husband’s love for me seemed to blossom every morning. I had it all—the perfect family, the perfect ending.

I realized now that I wasn’t cursed and that I hadn’t been put in this world to suffer. I used to think that I was buried, but I discovered that I was actually planted. All that pain and suffering that I survived were the water and manure that helped me germinate—that helped me grow.

Everything that had happened to me since I was born—good and bad—all led to this moment. I found my happily ever after in the most awkward way possible. But that was okay, because it didn’t matter where or how I found it. What mattered was that I did.

And then there was the man responsible for more than half of the pain I’d had to endure all my life.

Dear old dad.

He was locked up in a prison cell two cities away—over embezzlement charges. Egor would have easily resolved all of his financial problems. But he was undeserving of our generosity.

A man who sold out his daughter over a debt he couldn’t pay should rot in jail. Maybe a few years in there would help him back to his senses, and maybe—just maybe—he’d finally see the error of his ways.

Anyway, all that was in the past. Today, I was happy. I was safe. And I was surrounded by everyone who mattered to me. Family.

Egor wrapped his arm around my waist and planted a kiss on my forehead. We stood there, watching Emmy play with our little boy. I drew in a deep breath, taking a moment to appreciate how far we’d come as a couple.

Interesting how what started out as a curse ended up being a blessing in disguise.

“If I ever went back in time,” I began, eyes fixed on our boy, “I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Neither would I,” Egor said, pulling me closer to his side.

The walls that had once held so much silence now vibrated with life—voices, music, and the unshakable heartbeat of a family that had fought to stay whole.

***

The celebration was over now, and the mansion was silent. Luka was asleep in the nursery, as were Emmy and Noah in their respective rooms.

I lay on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of black panties and a matching bra. My pose was seductive, the scent of my perfume clinging to me like a second skin.

My heart was racing with anticipation as I waited for my husband’s return. He was tidying up some work stuff in his study and would be coming in any moment from now.

The front door creaked open, and he walked in, only to freeze at the entrance, his eyes burning with desire. He still looked at me with the same fire as the first time we tangled in the sheets.

I loved it.

It was a constant reminder that he still found me attractive, even after all this time.

He locked the door behind him and walked inside, a hand in his pocket. His footsteps were slow and deliberate, his hungry eyes never leaving my body. Egor halted before the bed with a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his enticing lips.

“So, what’s the occasion?” he teased, his voice deep and husky.

I ran my manicured fingers along my thighs, casting a seductive look at him. “Can’t a horny wife just want some dick?” I bit my lower lip, batting my eyelashes at him.

“Hmm. Someone’s feeling naughty tonight,” he said, fingers undoing the buttons of his pants.

“Very naughty.” I rose, knees sinking into the mattress, a hand sliding down between my legs. “Come to Mama,” I whispered, gesturing with my fingers.

He pulled his panties off, shed his black polo shirt, and then climbed up the bed. I straightened on my knees, pulling him closer, my lips grazing teasingly against his. His hands settled on my waist before sliding down to grab my ass.

“Spank me,” I whispered in his face, my breath against his skin.

He did. Hard.

I winced, flinching at the sweet sensation that sprinted across my body. My lips curled into an alluring grin. “Again.”

He did. He spanked my ass.

“Harder.”

He obeyed, doing exactly as I wanted, the sound echoing in the room.

A soft chuckle escaped me, and I stuck my tongue out, anticipating his kiss. He pulled my head closer, taking my tongue in his mouth. The kiss was hot, passionate, and when he unhooked my bra with practiced ease, a flutter rose in my chest.

He palmed my breast with one hand—fondling, squeezing. And with the other, he fingered my cunt over the fabric of my panties. Our kiss deepened, heads tilting slightly, dancing to the rhythm of our passion.

I reached down and took his cock—heavy, hard, and veiny. As he fingered me, I was busy stroking his length, my body trembling beneath his touch. His finger worked magic, and I was soaking wet.

Gently, he lowered me back on the mattress, his hands tracing the curves of my body. His lips left mine, then settled on my neck while he squeezed my breasts. I tipped my head backward, moaning as I reveled in the feeling of his hands over my body.

He took one breast in his mouth and sucked it so well that I cried out, “Egor…oh, fuck, yeah…!”

He sucked.

He squeezed.

I writhed beneath him, thighs brushing against each other while still stroking his length. He kissed my bellybutton, then lifted my legs in the air, his tongue licking my thighs—one after the other.

Egor reached down and yanked my panties off, his eyes locking with mine. He caressed my skin and teased my entrance with the tip of his cock. My chest was rising and falling with anticipation as a cold shiver ran down my spine.

He raised my legs, positioning them on his shoulders, his cock still teasing my pussy. Egor held my gaze, and with one gentle push, he penetrated my cunt, his cock stretching me out.

My pussy wrapped around him—warm, wet, and slippery. He moved with quiet reverence, each thrust seemingly deeper than the last. I moaned his name, hands in my hair, eyes closed to savor the feeling of his cock inside me.

He moved with unhurried precision, each shift of his hips pulling a soft, involuntary sound from my lips. “Yes, that feels so good.”

“You like it?” he whispered, his waist grinding into me.

I nodded, biting my lower lip.

“Say it,” he demanded. “I wanna hear it.”

“I like it,” I answered, holding his gaze. “Don’t stop, Daddy.”

“Say that again.”

“Don’t stop, Daddy.”

He ground against me, slow and deliberate.

I closed my eyes, basking in the sweetness of his cock, fingers clutching the sheets beneath me. He parted my legs and leaned in, his lips pressed to my neck.

My hands slid up his back, nails grazing lightly, and he responded with a low, rough sound that vibrated against my mouth. His movements grew deeper, more deliberate, each one a silent vow whispered through the rhythm of our bodies.

He choked my neck deliciously, claimed my lips again, and pounded his hips against mine. I moaned into his mouth, my legs locking around his back.

Egor drove inside me, his movements quickening by the second. My hands roamed his body, hips bucking upward, seeking more contact. He drove deeper, each stroke more vigorous than the last.

We moved together in perfect harmony, his waist slamming more relentlessly against me. My legs dangled in the air, the sound of my moans fueling our desire.

“Fuck me harder, Daddy!” I cried out. “Choke me!”

His grip tightened around my neck—not too rough, but enough to get the job done. His pace quickened, his breath coming in short gasps.

“Yes, yes, harder!” I twisted and twirled beneath him, fingers raking his back.

He kept going, slamming into me with relentless strokes until his primal growl signaled his arrival. I locked my feet around his waist, trapping him between my legs. With one last push, he exploded deep inside me, groaning like a wounded beast.

I wrapped my arms around him, my pussy accepting his load—every single drop of it. “I’ve got you,” I whispered in his ear as he collapsed on me, spent and out of breath.

Egor lay on my body, his cock still buried inside me. I held him tightly, feeling our bodies resonate with the same frequency, our hearts beating as one.

I lay on my back, facing the ceiling, and wondered how I got here despite my “humble” beginning. Just last year, I was a nobody—an average 21-year-old with an unfortunate life. Today, I was the wife of one of the most powerful men in Chicago.

That unlucky girl from last year was now the luckiest woman on planet Earth.

*****

THE END