Page 21 of Sold to the Bratva (Sinful Mafia Daddies #2)
KATYA
I n Isaac’s arms I’m weightless, buoyed by the flex of his forearms as he strides down the hall toward our bedroom.
My heart drums at a frantic pace, every beat a promise.
I’m already drenched, aching to feel him.
His confession still reverberates, impossibly seductive, turning my insides to molten lava.
When we reach the room, he lowers me to the mattress and brackets my body with his arms. The smile curving his mouth intoxicates me, and the raw lust in his eyes shoots adrenaline through my veins.
“Come here.” I slide my fingers into his hair and pull him into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.
His tongue is velvety warm, flavored with the chocolate tart we abandoned on the table. I’d almost feel bad we never finished it, but this is a far better dessert, with no offense to Maude.
I savor the glide of his tongue against mine, both claiming and yielding at once. He has laid himself bare, vulnerable in a way I never could have predicted. Isaac Kozlov isn’t a sentimental man, yet he loves me.
I’m breathless, not only from the realization but from the way he kisses me as if his life depends on it, as if I’m the very air in his lungs.
“I didn’t say it back,” I whisper against his lips, suddenly aware of how uneven we are.
He has given me this beautiful gift of his love, and all I’ve offered in return is raw, unbridled lust. He hums against my mouth, apparently unbothered. For him, this is enough. I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. They brim with passion, slightly unfocused.
“Isaac,” I murmur.
“It’s all right,” he says, cupping my cheek. “If you can’t say it yet, I understand. I’d rather hear the words when you mean them, not out of obligation.”
He kisses me again, as though he’s afraid of what I might say or of my silence. So I show him instead. He can quiet my words, but he can’t still my body. My hands roam down his torso to find his hardened length, and he makes no move to stop me.
“You’re a fucking temptress,” he tells me. “From the first day I met you. It’s like you live to turn me on.”
“I live to drive you insane,” I tease, remembering how bratty I was at first, how hard I tried to push him away.
I can’t get him close enough. I need him in my veins, something deeper than a flash of white-hot desire that ends in mutual pleasure. My body speaks a language I never learned, one crafted for him alone to bring him pleasure and to be pleasured by him.
I moan into his mouth as his hands slide up the bare skin of my thighs.
Every nerve ending sparks, my cells vibrating with anticipation.
I love him, too. The realization slams into me like a freight train, sending a shock of pleasure through my core.
I arch against him, and he can’t hold back the groan when our bodies press tight.
It’s unlike any pleasure I’ve ever known, and it isn’t only physical.
It’s emotional as well, a flood of dopamine that tingles through every inch of me.
I love the man who loves me. I love the man who is loving me now, kissing down my body with the reverence of an altar boy. He worships me. To him, I am holy. I gasp when the rough hairs of his five o’clock shadow scrape along my inner thigh.
“I need you inside me,” I gasp, unable to stop the buck of my hips as I try to drag him closer.
His laugh vibrates against my skin, a delicious hum that makes my toes curl.
“There will be time for that,” he murmurs. “You’re always so goddamn impatient.”
“And you love that about me,” I remind him.
“I do,” he says as his hands grip my hips and bunch my dress.
His fingers skim the sides of my legs as he eases my panties down, and then the heat of his tongue plunges inside me, exploring like a pirate finally claiming buried treasure. He circles my clit, and I moan out loud when he marks the spot.
“What did you say?” He laughs against me, the vibration sparking along my nerves.
My cheeks burn when I realize I spoke aloud, but embarrassment has no place here and he knows it.
“I said that’s the spot,” I answer on a breathy moan, and he meets my eyes with a darkened gaze. “So keep fucking doing that.”
“So bossy.” He grins before diving back into his ministrations.
I’m already impossibly close. Stars burst behind my eyelids, yet this isn’t how I want to come. I told him that before, and he listens better to actions than words. I tighten my grip in his hair until he reluctantly pulls away.
“Take off your clothes,” I demand, frowning down at him. “I refuse to come until you’re naked and inside me.”
“You sure about that?” he asks, smirking as he deliberately blows on my clit. Damn him for the way my body arches off the bed.
He must have forgotten how stubborn I am. I snap my thighs together, forcing him to retreat, and he studies me with a dangerous glint. The smirk remains. He’ll never admit it, but he loves when I’m in charge.
“Clothes off,” I demand again. “Now.”
He slips off the bed, his gaze never leaving mine, and starts unbuttoning his shirt at a maddening pace. He’s teasing me, prolonging the torture until I can touch him. I refuse to break. Sitting up, I dig my fingers into the sheets and watch his torturously slow striptease.
I drink in the rippling muscles of his chest once the shirt is gone. I lick my lips at the sight of his powerful arms, those same arms that carried me into this room. He watches me watching him, performing solely for my pleasure.
I bite my lip when my gaze lands on his happy trail, and he unhooks the button of his trousers with agonizing leisure, as though unwrapping a gift. He is the present, and I’m the greedy recipient.
No matter how many times we do this, or how many times we will, I love the sight of his erect cock.
The curvaceous member is eager to enter me as it’s already glistening with pre-cum when he frees it from his boxers.
I rub my thighs together for a scrap of friction as I feel the heat in my stomach tighten in need.
My body is desperate for him, chest heaving as he steps out of his boxers and prowls toward me. There’s no other word for it. He’s a predator on the hunt. He climbs over me, slow and sure, grabbing my ankle, and gently tugs until I’m pinned beneath him.
“You want this?” he asks, slowly grinding his cock against my thigh.
“Yes,” I moan, already halfway gone.
“Then it’s your turn to get naked,” he commands, and I’m more than willing to comply.
I slide the dress straps over my shoulders and shimmy out, making sure our bodies brush as I squirm beneath him. He nearly growls while helping me discard the fabric. Only one small piece of clothing remains between us, and the hunger in his eyes says he wants to tear it off with his teeth.
The sheer lace bra offers almost no support and even less coverage, which is exactly why I chose it. He’s speechless as he traces the swells of my breasts, watching in fascination while my nipples harden beneath the fabric.
“You really do live to drive me insane,” he murmurs, then wraps an arm around my waist and flips us so I straddle him. “I want to see those gorgeous tits bounce while you ride my cock.”
I need no further invitation. Reaching behind me, I flick open the clasps of the bra and let my breasts bounce free. I guide his cock to my entrance, and, slick with arousal, he slides in, filling me almost to the hilt in one long glide.
“Fuck,” he groans as I sink down onto his perfect cock.
He feels as though he were molded for me, built to drive me wild in ways I never imagined. I rise slowly before slamming back down, forcing his head to roll back on the pillow.
“You said you wanted to watch,” I remind him, so breathless I’m amazed any sound escapes.
His eyes open slowly, and I see how fiercely he clings to control.
“Let go, baby,” I whisper. “Come for me.”
I ride him hard and fast, watching his composure fracture piece by piece.
Even so, he holds back. When one hand reaches up to grab and fondle my breast and the other finds my clit, I understand why.
He wants me to come first. He commands it without a word.
I’m a bowstring pulled tight, ready to snap, and then he whispers, “I love you, Katya.” That is the final cut.
My walls seize around him as a powerful orgasm crashes through me in wave after wave.
I hear him moan my name as he empties inside me, but it’s distant like a shout tossed over crashing surf. I’m barely in my body anymore, floating somewhere else where the only sensation is pleasure knocking me off my feet.
I drift back to earth by degrees, and when I do I’m wrapped in his arms, our chests pressed tight. He strokes my hair and murmurs nonsense against my skin. Somehow I understand every word, another language I’ve learned without realizing, and I feel them burn through me.
Later, after we’ve cleaned up and he’s cradling me in his arms, a weight settles in my chest. If I don’t speak now, it will steal every breath from my lungs.
“Isaac,” I whisper, sitting up in bed and staring down at him.
He blinks sleepily, but the instant he registers my expression he bolts upright.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his hands immediately moving to my abdomen. “Is it the baby? Are you okay?”
His concern is so tender, so genuine, that tears prick my eyes. That reaction, of course, does nothing to calm him. His expression turns grave, the wheels in his mind spinning as he decides what to do next.
I cup his face and press a gentle kiss to his lips, hoping to soothe him even a little.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “I’m more than fine. I’m perfect. I just…” I falter, tripping on the words I desperately need to say.
“You’re scaring me,” he whispers as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
“I’m in love with you,” I blurt. “I didn’t say it before, and it wasn’t because I didn’t want to. I just never expected to love you… not at all. The fact that I love you so much, so fast, it’s…”
“I know.” He nods, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “It’s a lot.”
“It is,” I agree. “But it also feels exactly right. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m exactly where I belong. I can’t wait to raise this baby with you, Isaac. I can’t wait to spend every stupid, ordinary moment of the rest of my life with you.”
He doesn’t answer, but the way he kisses me tells the story. He loves me, too. He’s excited to raise this baby with me and to spend his life with me.