Page 29 of Secret Bratva Twins

“Fuck, you're amazing,” he growled, thrusting his hips forward, forcing more of himself into my mouth. I sucked eagerly, my tongue darting out to lick him.

He seemed to be enjoying it, which only fueled my desire to please him all the more. Arching my back, I wrapped my lips around his shaft, sucking harder and faster, my hand still stroking him in harmony. I could taste the salty tang of his pre-cum and the musky scent of his arousal, making my own desire grow stronger with each passing moment.

Maxim's breath hitched as I deep-throated him, his hips moving in rhythm with my mouth. He moaned, his hands tightening in my hair, tugging sensually at the strands.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice tinged with a mix of pleasure and pain. He grabbed my arm, lifting me to my feet and flipping me over the dining table.

And then it hit me, that raw fear that he wouldn’t find me attractive. The fear he was going to notice that I wasn’t as sexy as I was before, but he didn’t. He kissed my body like he was worshipping me.

“I want to be inside you again so badly, feel you around me.”

He gripped my waist and pressed himself against my entrance, then he slammed into me, his thrust so deep and powerful that it drew a cry out of me.

I gasped at the sensation, my eyes wide in surprise and pleasure. My body was alight with desire. I’d missed him so much and craved his touch a little more than was probably normal. I’d even masturbated to memories of him.

I moaned, writhing beneath him, my hands clutching the table for purchase as he drove into me. My heart felt like it was beating in perfect rhythm with his, matching the rise and fall of our breaths as we found our groove.

He continued to fuck me hard, his hips slamming into my ass with each thrust, making me cry out in pleasure. My legs trembled, my grip on the table tightening with each passing moment.

His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging in as he thrust into me with increasing urgency. “You’re mine, Gianna,” he growled. “All mine.”

I felt him growing closer, his breathing ragged and needy. And then, with one final powerful thrust, he tensed, groaning as he filled me with his release.

His warmth flooded my core, and I felt complete.

Slowing his pace, he continued to stroke into me, holding onto me as he reveled in the afterglow. My heart raced, still reeling from the intensity of what we just shared.

After a few minutes, he pulled out, his cock slapping against my ass, leaving a trail of his essence down my thighs. He grabbed a napkin from the table, cleaning himself up before helping me to my feet.

I expected him to leave after he’d gotten what he wanted—what he both wanted. Instead, he grabbed another napkin and handed it to me.

“Are you all right?” He asked, concern in his voice.

I smiled up at him, blushing. “I am.”

He inched closer and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

***

Maxim was gone by the time I woke up the following morning, but his citrus and woodsy scent filled the whole room.

He’d taken me to his room after we had sex last night, and we’d taken a hot bath together, after which he gave me a pair of pajamas from his closet and cuddled me through the night.

Sleep didn’t come easy for me. I’d been too excited lying next to him at first, basking in the warmth of his body and my heart pounding at how close we were. Then all of that had vanished, replaced by guilt for keeping our children a secret from him.

I’d contemplated telling him. God knows I wanted to blurt everything out, but I needed to think carefully before I made any decision. I couldn’t let my heart decide when it involved Ryan and Daylan’s well-being.

I exhaled, climbed out of bed, and looked around. He has a picture of him and his brothers on his nightstand, then another one of his nephew and nieces next to it. I picked that one up and smiled. They were my children’s cousins, how good it would feel for them to meet and play together. Someday, not right now.

I got to my feet and paddled downstairs. Ms. Popov was making an omelet and beacon, but something was off. She didn’t have her usual smile on her face this morning. “Good morning,” I greet, sitting on one of the stools by the island.

“Good morning,” she said over her shoulders.

My smile dropped. “Is there a problem?”

She finally turned around to face me, still frowning. “Like you and Maxim tearing the dining room apart and breaking expensive plates? Yes, there is a problem.”

Oh, God. She knows we fucked.

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