Page 64 of The Bratva's Forced Kidnapped Bride

And just like that, I was wild again, on fire to make her scream. I let go of her wrists to slide my hand down her side, cupping her ass, then gripping her hip. She twisted and writhed, mumbling nonsense in my ear as I slammed deeper and harder.

“Now,” she demanded, panting, biting, digging her nails into my flesh.

I slipped my hand between our thrusting bodies. She tensed, hanging on, breathless now, as I found her swollen clit. I waited for the scream, a sound I reveled in, but she only squeaked into my shoulder. I felt her spasm around me and let out a roar as I let loose, but she whipped her hand over my mouth.

“The dog,” she hissed, still panting with pleasure. Then she giggled, and I started laughing, falling onto her in a heap. “I didn’t want to scare him,” she said, kissing me before letting her head fall back onto the carpet. “Wow, that was nice.”

I was still inside her, and dipped my chin to kiss her behind the ear. We both glanced at Frederick, who hadn’t stirreddespite our commotion. He still wheezed contentedly under the desk.

“Thank you again,” she said as I rolled to the side and gathered her close. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and I pulled my discarded shirt over her.

“You would have brought him home yourself before the week was over,” I said.

She nodded, laughing softly. “It was still sweet.”

“So you’re soft and I’m sweet now,” I said. “What will people think?”

“No one else ever has to know,” she said. “It’s just you and me.”

“The way I like it,” I said, then nodded toward Frederick. “I hope he does all right on the plane.”

“Where are we going on the plane?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

“You know I don’t want to get into an argument when we’re naked,” I said.

“And you know we’re not going to Volgograd for our first Christmas together,” she answered.

We’d been going back and forth about where we were spending the holidays for weeks now, and were still at a standstill. Her cousins expected us here in California, her parents were hankering for her to bring me to Moscow to finally meet them, and my family thought it was a given that we’d return to Volgograd for another giant party, hopefully without any shooting this time.

“Maybe we should just go to Mexico,” I said.

“Now that sounds perfect.”

I picked her up and carried her upstairs, the little dog waking up to trot along behind us. Whatever we did would be perfect, because we’d be together. She didn’t overuse the word; it was the only way to describe what he had, what we’d fight to protect, always side by side.

*****

THE END