Page 27

“She got six cakes?”

“She baked six cakes, and they tasted fucking delicious.”

Rafayel rolled his eyes, lifting the tray with the chicken from the kitchen island. He looked sharp with a clean trim, a black polo shirt over denim jeans, and suede Timberlands. “The birthday man hasn’t even cut the fucking cake, and you already had a taste. Jayden, get the wine bottles. Tonight, I have a feeling I’m about to be fucking wasted in this party.”

Arlo snorted, stuck a cigar into his mouth, and grabbed a beer before following Rafa out of the house to the backyard. “The birthday man’s wife is generous. Should I have said no?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck no. Take this advice; you’ll worship me for it: Never pass up an opportunity to taste Serena’s cake.”

Bickering, they ignored me and went on their way to the grill, but Jayden stopped beside me before heading upstairs to get the wine crate. Eyes hard and jaw set, I prepared for the worst thing to come flying out of his mouth. I could sense the weight of his gaze, the unspoken questions and accusations lingering beneath the surface. But then, something shifted. His expression softened ever so slightly, and he spoke in a low, measured tone.

“Thank you for making my sister happy.”

I raised my brow, surprised by the sincerity in his voice, and, for a moment, we just stood there. It was a small concession, perhaps, but it was a start. I nodded, my expression neutral, but I reciprocated the respect.

“No need to thank me. I’ll do everything in my power to keep her safe and happy.”

His gaze lingered on mine, as if searching for any sign of deception, and when he saw that I meant every word. Slowly, he nodded, a small, begrudging smile creeping onto his face.

“I’ll get the wine.”

Nodding, he excused himself, and I moved closer to where the party was happening.

The backyard was perfectly set up, with string lights above the tables and chairs. On the horizon, the sun kissed the sky, painting everything in shades of deep purple and gold. A faint breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the perfume of flowers blooming from the nearby garden.

Niko sauntered up to me, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Ah, I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be serving cake at your parties.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Says the one who learned how to make pancakes to please his wife. You set the pace, Niko. I have to adapt to new things.”

Niko snorted. “Adapt? You’re not just adapting; you’re transforming. Pancakes are breakfast. I mean, cake? That’s not exactly the kind of thing I’d associate with the infamous gunslinger.”

I shrugged, smiling. “Hey, Serena likes to bake. And I like making her happy.”

His grin grew wider. “Oh, I’m sure you do. And I’m sure Vlad loves all the new toys and attention he’s getting.”

“Shut up, man. You’re just jealous because you’re not the only one getting all the perks of married life.”

He laughed. “I’m happy for you.”

We shared a handshake, and I stuck my hand into my pockets. “I’m happy for me, too.”

I looked past the swarm of distant family and a few friends and finally caught sight of her: Serena.

She was holding our one-month-old son in her arms, his tiny face nuzzled against her chest as she spoke with Rosalyn. She cradled him close to her chest as if nothing else in the world mattered but him.

Then, she looked up.

Her eyes met mine across the yard, and in an instant, they lit up. That smile always fucking caught me off guard despite how many times I’d seen it.

She was wearing a short yellow dress that was bright and vibrant against the dusky backdrop. The dress hugged her figure, flowing out just slightly at the hem, and the soft fabric caught the light as she moved. It complimented her skin, and her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders—a picture of effortless beauty.

“Six cakes?” I asked when she came up to me, and she smiled shyly.

“That’s what happens when a wife finds out about her husband’s birthday one week before the actual date. She goes berserk.”

One week ago, after we’d collapsed on each other, she curled up beside me, with her head on my chest, then sprang up and asked me a random question about the last thing I’d celebrated.

It wasn’t a question I’d expected, so I’d had no answer to give her.

“I don’t remember,” I’d admitted. I hadn’t celebrated anything in a long time, unless we were counting hanging out in the clubs after closing deals.”

“Not even your birthday?”

“Birthday?” I’d scoffed, grabbed her hips, and stroked her soft thighs. “I only remember the date, and on that very day, every fucking time, I forget. My brother does a great job of popping a few bottles to mark it, though.”

“When is it?”

“Next Friday, I think.”

Serena jumped out of bed with a gasp “Next…next Friday? Your birthday is next Friday? And you’ll be?”

“Forty.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. How have we never had this conversation before? That is literally one week from today, Timur.”

“It’s not a big deal. Come back to bed.” I enjoyed seeing her pace naked, watching her run her fingers through her hair while her brain started reorganizing and arranging. “Serena.”

The sight of her smooth belly and hips started making me grow hard, and she was busy thinking about my birthday.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Serena.”

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yellow.”

“I’m serious.”

Sighing, I’d scrambled to the edge of the bed and grabbed her to straddle my waist. She threw her arms around my neck, and I lowered my head to take one of her soft breasts in my mouth. “Black.”

She’d arched forward, feeding me more. “Great. Family, friends, dusk, lights, chicken, cake—”

“What are you doing?” I mumbled against her nipple.

“Planning.”

“I’ll be in Moscow on Friday.”

“No, you won’t,” she’d said sternly. “You are going to stay here with me.” Her eyes had sparkled with amusement. “We’re going to celebrate your birthday this year.” She smiled.

I’d raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what do you have planned?”

Serena’s smile had grown wider as I rolled her on her back. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

And I was more than impressed with what I’d seen.

“You didn’t have to do any of this.” I kissed our son on the head and planted one on her cheek. “One night with you in our bed would have been enough for me.”

Laughing, the blue in her eyes twinkled. “That’s not exactly a memorable way to celebrate. We do that all the time.”

“And yet, I remember every single one of those times. You outdid yourself.”

Tipping her toes, she pressed a kiss to my lips. “Happy fortieth birthday, baby. Roselyn needs my help to plan Niko’s birthday next year. She thinks I could make good money from these event planning ideas.”

“I don’t dispute that. You’d be one hell of a writer and planner. But right now,” I craved a moment alone with my wife, “there’s something very impressive I want to show you upstairs.”

“But Vlad….” Her eyes flickered to our baby, and behind her, Jayden passed. I couldn’t believe I appreciated his presence more.

“Jayden.” I cleared my throat. “Jayden, may I ask a favor of you?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and Serena looked between us. They must have been surprised that I opted to make a request rather than order him.

“Sure. What is it?”

I smiled. “I was wondering if you could hold Vlad for thirty minutes. I promise we’ll be right back down.”

Jayden’s gaze flicked to Serena, then back to me. For a moment, I thought he’d refuse. But he nodded. “Okay, not a problem. Pleased to have my nephew either way.”

Serena’s eyes met mine, a hint of mischief sparkling within them. She knew exactly what I had in mind. And as Jayden took Vlad from her arms, I reached out, offering her my hand.

“Shall we?”

****

Serena and I barely made it past the door before my lips went crashing down on hers, and I had my fingers tangled in her hair. She sighed in my mouth, smiling. “I thought you…” I kissed her, “…wanted to show me something.”

I sucked on her tongue, drinking in the way her body shuddered beneath mine. Cupping the curve of her ass, I squeezed, grinning. “I am. I’m showing you how much I fucking want you.”

She laughed, and I kissed the sound off her lips. “You have six cakes downstairs. You should want one of those.”

“Later. At the moment, the only thing I can think of devouring is you.”

“When did you discover you were this horny?”

Growling, I nipped at her jaw and tilted her chin a little higher to deepen our kiss. God, she was so fucking intoxicating. “The second I got off the plane.”

“I’d have been mad if you didn’t show up today.”

“I know.”

She stretched on her toes, touching me everywhere her hands could. She didn’t have to say it; I knew she’d missed me, and I’d missed her, too.

We’d had sex more than a hundred times already. I should have been used to her, tired, or maybe fucking bored of having the same lips and pussy to taste. But the thing about fucking Serena was that every time with her left a deeper need burrowed in my chest. She always left me wanting more, a need to try again, to taste her one more time. And another one more time.

Then, the loop fucking started, and I finally accepted that I’d never stop; I’d never be tired of her. I was gladly fucking addicted to this. To her. Her taste, her smell, the little breathy sighs she filled my ears with every time I nestled between her legs and buried my cock deep inside her. We fit perfectly, like she was made just for me, and I wanted all of it, all the time.

Her fingers were already unfastening the buttons on my shirt, and when I gave her a look, she laughed. “You know what, forget it. There’s no time to get to the bed. You told Jay thirty minutes.”

I bunched up her dress, gripped her hips, and hoisted her from the ground. Automatically, her legs went around my waist. I slipped a finger past her thong and stroked her clit. She was soaking wet already.

“He wants to spend time with his nephew. Allow the uncle to spend time with his nephew. Fuck, I love how your body responds to me.”

A dark smile curled my mouth when her head fell back, and her lips parted at the touch.

“Baby…there are guests downstairs.”

I pinched her clit, and her moan caused blood to roar in my ears. “Fuck them.”

In between a moan and a chuckle, she smiled. “Your cousins and brother and Arlo….”

“Fuck all of them.”

I growled and buried myself inside her. Her back arched, and I pinned her on the wall, trailing kisses down her neck to her jaw. She moved her hip and dug her nails into my shirt, a silent plea to fuck her.

“You’re driving me crazy. Please, move.”

I slapped her ass, smiling against her shoulder when she yelped. “We’ve been through this before, Pchelka.”

“Timur,” she whined, cupping my cheeks to force me into submission with a fierce kiss. I didn’t budge. “Please….”

I smacked her again and slammed into her, only because I couldn’t bear to hear her beg. She clung onto me like I was life itself, whimpering when I moved in and out of her in a punishing rhythm until she lost her words to a string of moans.

Her head fell back, her mouth falling open in a breathy scream from the force of her orgasm.

Fuck .

I rode her through her first orgasm, determined to make her experience another one after fucking her senseless.

The heat and burning sensation of her cunt clamping around me forced me to pick her off the wall and throw her on the bed with me hovering above her. “No time for the bed, my fucking foot.”

Before she voiced her protest or tried to give me another countdown on the minutes we had left, I thrust into her with a speed that left her breathless, kissing her everywhere, showing her how much I bloody loved her without words, just action.

Her fingernails clawed into my chest, her hips widened to accommodate me, and occasionally, my fingers sought solace in the warmth of her pussy. When she quivered underneath me, I knew she couldn’t take anymore.

I couldn’t, either, and with a mix of grunts and screams, we came at the same time for each other.

I collapsed on top of her, breathing in her vanilla and milk scent, which filled my nostrils, drugging me almost as much as the sound of her delicious sighs.

A heartbeat of silence, and I felt her smile on my cheek. “Can we go again?” She latched her mouth on my neck and sucked on the skin. “Please?”

Smiling, I lifted her chin to meet her eyes. “A wise woman told me we have guests downstairs.”

“Women like that are more concerned about others than their husbands. To me, that’s not wise. I prefer taking care of my husband any way he wants to be taken care of.”

“Ah.” I suppressed a laugh. “And if there’s a one-month-old baby downstairs that craves your attention?”

“Oh, my God.” She rolled her eyes, made a fake attempt to get up, fell back on the mattress, and tugged down the side zipper of her dress. “We have fifteen minutes left, baby. Make it worth it.”

*****

THE END

Hi there! I hope you liked reading “Forced Pregnant Bride.”

The next part in this series is “Claimed Bratva Virgin”. Check out the book and order your copy here:

Claimed Bratva Virgin

The Russian mafia boss saw me once…and now I'm carrying his secret. Rafayel Yezhov kidnapped me to punish my family but now I'm his prized possession. He is almost twice my age with a reputation for brutality. Forced into his world, I'm trapped in a web of loyalty, power, and deceit.

When he discovers I'm carrying his child, the stakes escalate. He says I belong to him but I've been playing a deadly game. One wrong move, and I'll face his wrath. My heart beats for him, but loyalty binds me to my family.

Each night, he claims me, body and soul, in a tangled web of lust and possession. I'm torn between hatred and desire, my senses blurred. I want to destroy him, but his eyes burn with a passion that melts my resolve. Rafayel's world are as dark as his soul, and I'm caught in the crossfire.

Will I ever be free from the man who holds my heart hostage?

Get “Claimed Bratva Virgin” now

About the Author

If you enjoy dark mafia romance, alpha males, seductive women, and storylines that will have you burning through the pages, then Rina Lawson is definitely the right choice.

Rina Lawson has always loved the escapism that romance novels offer. She relishes the excitement and rollercoaster of emotions that dark romance elicits. When Rina finally indulged in her dream of becoming a writer, she submerged herself in this genre.

She loves creating characters that are complex, captivating, seductive, and can overcome adversity. Although she has a clear idea when she sets pen to paper, Rina always allows the characters to lead her in their story. She embraces the conflict, savors the steamy scenes, and always finds a way for her characters to have a happy ever after.

Being married to the love of her life, Andy, it’s easy to understand why she is a hopeless romantic. Rina and Andy live in Boston, Massachusetts, with their furry friends and a writing nook that Andy created especially for her.

She draws inspiration not only from her own relationship but also from a large circle of close friends who all have diverse backgrounds. She frequently enjoys barbecues, fun get-togethers, and laughter-filled karaoke nights. Rina insists she cannot carry a tune, but she enjoys the experience every time.