Page 22 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)

Svet Moy

Mia

His cheek so soft beneath my fingertips, his cock buried balls deep inside me, his arms wrapped possessively around my waist— he, him, his . I couldn't resist. I stumbled into this, and I was falling faster, harder, with everything I had.

Fuck, his lips fulfilled something inside me. Something primal and dark, a part of me I didn’t want to admit existed. The pause between us was divine intervention. He begged, and I gave in, tasting the drug that was Kirill.

I broke my second rule.

Both of us froze at the action, and we savored it, memorized it.

This wasn't a fucking kiss. This was a goddamn bottomless abyss, desperate, hungry, and starved.

"Fuck, Mia." Those jade eyes took away all my strength.

"Shut me up again, Sunshine," Kirill pleaded, with no hint of that dominant man.

No, he belonged to me, begging for a simple kiss.

But the truth was that I had no power over him.

I was falling in love right there in his arms, and I was the one breaking all my stupid rules that I so desperately clung to, trying to save myself from fully going under.

Just like that, my hips grinding on him, my arms wrapped around his neck, and my tongue in his mouth, we became one.

His mouth was fucking addicting. It was soft, sweet, and it reached deep inside my fucking heart and bled it dry. No other kiss had ever felt like this.

It all became slow and languid, so far from where we started.

I was so fucking lost.

"Just like that, svet moy ."

His light. His world.

I wasn't going to survive this. I wouldn't be able to come out of this alive. Whatever this was between us was sucking me in with the strength of a black hole.

Unexpectedly, my back sunk into the bed, and his tattooed torso pinned me down, the best dick of my life filling me up, and his lips devouring mine. This was the most full and delicious feeling in the world.

His dick was…well, his dick was big . But it was also fucking thick, stretching me, ruining me. It was exactly how I imagined—no—it was better, more, harder. Damn, the package matched the vibe, to quote Viv.

Big. Heavy. A few prominent veins running its length, a slight curve to the side—fucking hell, why did that make it hotter?

All of me was alive, enjoying every second as if this was my last moment on earth.

Fuck, he thrust in just right, but his movements became frenzied and on edge.

His body was large, inked, and powerful.

His thrusts became harder, his grip on me tighter, he spilled inside me, never letting me catch my breath.

I didn't want to. I would suffocate before I stopped this kiss.

His body weight was exactly what I wanted. To be squished underneath him, to belong .

"Don't even think about walking out that door, you hear me?" His question sounded in my ear like a threat, my lips buzzing with the force of an angry beehive. It was all a blur in this dark and quiet room, on his bed, his cock still inside me, our lips glued together.

I wasn't thinking of anything. My brain was mush, my whole belief system scrambled .

Why did this feel phenomenal? Why did this feel like nothing else I'd ever experienced? How was I supposed to live after this?

“You're so fucking beautiful, Mia.” Opting to stay silent, I let myself descend into his orbit. His lips marked me like a hot iron, leaving hickeys on my neck as evidence of his possessiveness.

My lips bruised from the force of our kisses, I wanted more and more and connected myself with him with renewed energy.

The whole world was dead to us. It was just us two. There was nothing else around; no one else mattered.

There were no words, only his eyes on mine, opening up his soul. He wasn't just a stranger. There was something linking us, and he knew what that was while I remained in the dark.

He didn't just randomly arrive at the open house. He was always there, just out of sight and out of reach, but he was here now, finally claiming what was his.

Me.

Kirill didn't break any of his rules. Minutes, hours—who knew how much time had passed while his hands and lips caressed my body?

Everywhere, he feasted on all of me, and I gladly and selfishly took everything. His lips between my legs, my hands in his hair, and my mind in pure euphoria. He brought me to the edge with such ease and speed that I lost count of how many times my body exploded underneath him.

As long as our bodies were connected, I didn't have to think. My mind was a mere shell—empty.

His cum pooled inside my pussy, again and again, and I eagerly took it all. He fucked me. He made love to me. He broke me, made me dysfunctional, no longer the same woman who crossed the threshold of his apartment earlier in the evening.

And after every time, he took care of me—piecing me back together.

His whispers consumed my mind.

I'm fucking addicted.

Take it all, baby.

Fuck, you're such a good girl, Mia.

Mia. Mine. Mine. You're mine, Mia .

He ran a hot towel over my entire body. He sprinkled my skin with kisses as light as a butterfly.

He fed me. Sweet berries. Cold water, hot tea. For the first time in hours, we looked at each other while our bodies were detached. And the way he looked at me scared me to the bottom of my very soul.

I would break all my fucking rules. I wouldn't have a choice. And I was petrified.

"Don't look at me like that," I threw out the half-assed request his way.

"Like what?"

"Like that. Like you're never going to let me leave this bed."

There was silence while I sipped on the ice-cold water. He’d added a lime wedge. Because he knew I liked it. Fuck.

It must have been deep in the middle of the night. The city was enveloped in obsidian colors, all the lights smudged with the pattering rain on the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was dark inside the room, it was secret, and it was cathartic.

I looked over his body, exploring every inch. “What’s this tattoo?” My voice was barely above a whisper as I lay on top of him, pointing to one design after another. Quietly, as if it was classified, he revealed the meaning of each one, his fingers ghosting on my skin.

His chest, back, and shoulders were tattooed to the last centimeter, and his left thigh had one large one.

An ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail.

The scales were prominent; it wrapped around his thigh, and I thought about how painful each one must have been.

“And why do you have such a large scar?”

Starting just beneath his armpit and ending on his hip, the long, stitched-up wound healed a long time ago. “I got it in prison.” His words made all my hairs stand on end. “Had a…um, a disagreement with the management.”

“Why were you in prison?” I couldn’t stop the question from bursting out of me, but instead of telling me the truth, his lips found mine again, pulling me into a kiss so soft, so tender, so unforgettable .

Kirill didn't break any of his rules. He came inside me again and again. On the bed, on the couch, in the shower, on the floor, against the window. I admitted my defeat by leaving little bites on his neck and bottom lip. And one night certainly turned into anything but one time.

He was diligent, keeping all his boundaries while witnessing how I abandoned all of mine.

"Why are you so scared of this, Mia?" His tone was forgiving while his hands pressed me to him as if I would fall off a cliff otherwise.

"I don't know," I admitted quietly, not daring to open my eyes while I lay on his pillows, in his arms, smelling like him.

"What does this feel like?"

I paused and waited for his lips to make it to my temple. "Like sin."

"Then I'll burn with you, baby." Baby. I hadn't noticed how that word began to feel like the only thing I wanted to hear.

"I'll fall with you, svet moy." My light , my world. I didn't realize how easy and natural that sounded.

"I'll keep you in my arms, away from judgment day, Sunshine." Sunshine. I refused to admit how addicted I was to his voice pronouncing that sweet name.

Kirill didn't break any of his rules, while all of mine shattered when my lips touched his. But one night couldn't turn into forever.