Page 29 of Unrequited (Bratva Kings #6)

SEAMUS

I know my time alone with Zoya is ending. Today could be the last day I have her before my family comes for me. We’re on borrowed time.

There’s been a whole bleeding clan of bastards trying to shove me off the throne. But I’ve still got a few loyals. Real ones. And I didn’t even bother to hide her. Could’ve, if I wanted. Hell, part of me still wants to.

But I want to claim my wife. I need to.

I want Zoya in a way I’ve never wanted anyone. It’s time.

She follows me to the bedroom. She’s barely dressed, just a T-shirt and a thin pair of panties, and the way she peels them off without hesitation tells me everything I need to know.

I can’t believe she’s mine .

Her eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, watching me from the doorway like she’s already waiting to be devoured.

“Come here,” I say, crooking a finger at her.

She walks toward me slowly, lashes lowered. The perfect goddamn submissive. She’s everything I never knew I needed. When she gets to me, I lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist like we’ve done this a thousand times.

“I have so many things I want to ask you, Seamus,” she whispers, her voice hitching in her throat.

“Ask me anything, doll.”

I kiss her forehead. Her temple. Her cheek. Her jaw. Her shoulder. “I told you, I’ll answer anything you want. What is it, love?” I murmur.

“So, those texts from my family.”

I go still.

“Are you going to intercept my texts?”

“Not a feckin’ chance,” I growl, kissing her hard, right on the mouth. “I came here. I took you with me because you belong with me, Zoya. You know that as well as I do, don’t you?”

She stares at me, like she’s waiting for the catch. There is no catch.

“You were set to marry some gobshite who wouldn’t know yer worth if it kicked him square in the stones. There’s no way in hell my family and yours would’ve agreed to it. So I made it happen.”

“Quite a visual…” she mutters, her eyes twinkling at me .

I lower my voice. “I made that happen because that’s what I bloody do, Zoya. Some people hate that about me. I fucking thrive on it.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to hers again.

“I wanted you. So I took you. And now that I have you, I swear I’ll take the best care of you. Take your phone? No. But other things, love…”

I kiss her mouth again, my tongue teasing hers, just for a fraction of a second before I pull away.

“You may not get the privacy you want. Because I won’t be letting you out of me bloody sight.”

She laughs. “Why not?”

I shake my head, walking her into the bathroom with me. My body aches, my muscles are sore, and sweat is soaking my skin. But none of that matters. Not when I want her like this.

I turn on the shower, spin her around, and give a sharp slap to her perfect, perky little arse.

“You’re fair beggin’ for a proper putting in your place, aren’t you now?” I ask.

“Put me in my place,” she whispers back, and her eyes flutter half-lidded with anticipation. She likes this. Loves it. “Yes.”

My sweet, dark little girl.

I guide her under the water, letting it soak into her hair, and begin washing her slowly. Reverently .

I lather her hair, watching the suds run down her neck, her breasts. Her perfect, upturned breasts. I rinse them off, then bring her nipple to my mouth and scrape each one with my teeth. She moans, head tilting. I take the opportunity to kiss the trail of sudsy water down her neck.

“Let me wash you too? Please,” she says, her hands already on me, possessive and eager.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, fingers trailing over my chest, “how you’re not going to let me out of your sight, Seamus.”

“You won’t have a bodyguard, Zoya,” I tell her. “I’m your shadow, your bloody shield, your man for every damn thing.”

“And what, you’ll be with me all the time?” she teases.

“It’s feasible now,” I say, my voice dark with promise.

My hands roam over the curve of her arse, and all I can think about is how fucking deserving she is of a proper spanking. I want to show her what it is to unravel for me, piece by bloody piece. She’s been raised hard. Firm. She knows the Bratva’s world.

She’s about to know mine.

“What about when you work?” she asks.

“I’ll take you with me.”

“And when you travel?”

“I’ll take you with me.”

She grins. “What about when I need to pee in peace? ”

“Now you’re just looking for trouble,” I say, gripping her arse and hauling her leg up onto mine. Her hands, those wicked, beautiful hands, are gripping my shoulders, my chest, my biceps like she’s trying to memorize them.

She grabs my arse. I groan.

I want to take her right here, right now. But I’m not going to claim her virginity in the bloody shower. No. This is just the prelude. The foreplay. I want to make this last.

So I cup her lovely tits in my hands.

“Quiet now, love. Remember what I said about obeying me? There’ll be time for questions later.”

She moans as I roll her nipples between my fingers.

“What do you say, Zoya?” I murmur, a threat and a promise wrapped in velvet.

“Yes, sir,” she breathes out. “Yes, sir.”

She melts against me like honey.

“Tip your head back,” I say.

She obeys. I finish washing her hair, then rinse. She does the same for me while my hands explore her all over again.

And this is just the beginning.

She’s slick between her thighs, so fucking tight I can barely breathe.

I slide three fingers inside her, slowly, working them in and out as her hips jerk and shudder.

A soft, desperate moan spills from her lips, and I press a thumb gently, reverently, against her clit.

She cries out again, a sound that’s more than just pleasure; it’s surrender .

I’m going to make her body sing for me. I’m going to train her to crave my cock, my mouth, my teeth, every dark and dangerous part of me.

“This is what you want, Seamus? Me?” she asks, trembling. “Are you sure?”

I’ve never been surer of anything in my fucking life. I shut off the shower, come out dripping, steam curling off our skin, and towel us both off. I wrap her in a thick towel, then lift her into my arms and carry her straight to my bed, where she fucking belongs.

We’re both clean now. Naked. Exposed. Vulnerable.

I take a moment to hold her, then lay her down on my bed like she’s the most precious thing in the world. “Hands above your head,” I say.

“Keep them there until I tell you to move. Aye?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, her eyes locked on mine like she trusts me with everything she is. She’s still damp, water droplets clinging to the tips of her lashes like dew on petals. I dry her again, careful, gentle.

I kiss each droplet, one by one. I watch her lashes flutter closed under my touch. She looks like she’s dreaming, and I want her to feel exactly that. Like this is the best dream, the kind you beg not to wake up from.

I’ll protect her with everything I have, even when things get brutal. Even when the world outside these walls comes crashing in and tries to take her from me. I’ll keep her safe.

“Part your legs, wife,” I growl into her ear. That one word, wife , grounds me. Feeds something primal inside me .

“I want to taste you. I’ve been fucking dying to taste you. But hear me now, if you come before I give you permission, I will take you over my knee and punish you.”

She lets out a shaky breath. Her hands stay put, but she arches just slightly. Just enough to test me.

“If your hands move, I’ll edge you until you're screaming for release. Understand me?”

Her reply is a whisper, teasing, defiant. “Tell me how you’re going to punish me.”

I slam my palm against her arse, hard enough to make her gasp, but soft enough to make her wet. “Hush now, love, or I’ll have to gag that pretty mouth of yours.”

Her eyes go wide, but a sly little smile tugs at her lips. She’s my sassy little girl. Always pushing. Always testing. I click my tongue and shake my head because she knows what she’s doing to me.

She wants this.

I reach across, grab the pillow and rip the pillowcase off, twisting it into a makeshift gag. I tie it around her head. “Bite that if you need to scream,” I murmur, brushing my mouth over her cheek, then down to her throat. “Permission granted,” I whisper.

Her eyes widen, and I swear she moans.

Then I take my time. I kiss down her body, tasting every inch.

From the soft curve of her shoulder to the swell of her breasts, to the sweet dip beneath.

Her skin is silk beneath my tongue. I press kisses down her stomach, trace the indent of her belly button with my tongue, slide lower, until I’m between her thighs again.

I spread her open and breathe her in like she’s the only air I want in my lungs.

She smells like sin and salvation, like sex and innocence, both wrapped in one perfect fucking contradiction. I groan when I slide my tongue between her folds, slow and deep, and taste her. Fuck . She’s everything.

I tease her, circle her clit with my tongue, then suck gently. Her hips jerk up, but she can’t make a sound with the gag in place. She’s squirming, trembling.

I brace her with my hands on either side of her hips and start to lap at her again. I’m addicted. My cock is leaking, aching, and dripping with pre-cum.

She screams into the gag as I bring her to the edge. And when she starts to come, I don’t stop. I ride her through every wave, licking her gently through the aftershocks, kissing her thighs.

She tries to push me away, as if she’s too sensitive, and it’s too much. But I’m not done. I’m nowhere near fucking done.

She’ll come again.

So I worship her… over and over, until she’s writhing again. Until she’s begging without words and comes a second time on my tongue.

Finally, I pull away just enough to remove the gag.

She gasps, her breathing ragged. “Oh my god, Seamus… Oh de ar god…” She moans it like a prayer, like she’s finally seen heaven.

I cradle her face and kiss her gently. “I want you to remember this,” I whisper. “I need you to remember this. I meant to take my time. I meant to make you come again, but now… now I feckin’ need you.”