Page 135 of The Lazarov Bratva

“I know. It’s just… weird.” I can’t stop touching him, scared that the moment I do, he’ll vanish beneath my fingers and all of this will have been some dream I concocted to avoid a terrible reality.

“I’m right here,” he assures me, and his lips press lightly to the top of my head while he scrolls.

Whatever he’s dealing with seems important since he’s been on his phone since the movie started. It’s actions like that—and the knowledge that my father still lurks around—that make my decision to keep quiet about the baby relatively easy. It’s a lot to handle, and I don’t want Kristof to be distracted in any way. Distracted people make mistakes.

As the credits roll and the shadows dance over Kristof’s bare torso, I follow them with my fingertips. Up across his abs to the rise of his pecs and then back down, I slowly write out my name across his body.

Kristof huffs softly, and when I glance up at him, a sweet smile crosses his lips.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly.

“Touching you,” I reply with a small smile as heat warms my cheeks at being caught. “I never want to stop.”

“You’re adorable.”

“It’s true.” Feeling daring and seeing that Kristof’s attention is more on me than his work now, I slide my hand lower and lower on his abdomen until the hem of his boxers brushes my fingertips. Muscles flex under my hand, so I dip my hand into the heat of his underwear and wrap my fingers around his swelling cock.

“Alena,” Kristof says softly, his tone almost like a warning.

“I miss you,” I murmur. “I want to feel you again, please?” I want to feel nothing but him in every way possible. He’s the only thing keeping the flashes of pain at bay, the only distraction that stops me from focusing on how we’re back in a house where so many people died.

We might be in a different wing in a mansion so large that it’s basically a new house, but the thoughts continue to tease on the edge of my mind.

Our gazes meet, and Kristof nods, cupping my face with his hand and slowly stroking my cheek.

“Okay, baby,” he says. “Get down between my legs. There’s a good pet.”

A shiver steals down my spine from the praise, and I can’t keep the smile from my face. That’s what I need, the commanding edge in his tone, the way he looks at me like he’s about to eat me up.

I slip down under the covers just like he asks while he shimmies out of his boxers. Settling between the warm cage of his thighs, I press a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock as it stirs to life.

“Take me in your mouth, pet. There’s a good girl.”

My mind begins to turn off, easily slipping into the safe mindset where nothing matters but Kristof and his ability to take care of me. I follow his instruction and take his cock into my mouth, but I don’t move until he pushes the sheets back and strokes my hair out of my face.

“I want to watch you,” Kristof says. “I want to see every second of this.”

Warmth blossoms across my face, and the muscles of my face twitch with a smile I can’t commit to because my mouth is full. He keeps one hand resting on my head while the other settles on his abdomen.

“You know how to suck my cock because you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you? But this time, I want you to take it slow. Savor it like the reward it is.”

My mind falls quiet, and I do just that. His hand remains a guiding comfort on the back of my head as I slowly bob back and forth on his cock, suckling softly, long, slow strokes that take him deeply into my throat, past my gag reflex. Then slow strokes back, where I suckle eagerly on the crown like it’s some kind of sweet. Each time I do that, a punched-out moan of pleasure escapes Kristof, and pride swells in my heart at how good I can make him feel.

His constant stream of instructions and praise never pauses. He encourages me to bob my head faster, then slower. He instructs me to massage his balls and take his cock so deep that I choke, and breathing is a thing of the past. Then he talks me back and guides me through lavishing attention all over his length with kitten licks.

I’d say I’m a pro at this by now, but there’s something incredible in the way he instructs me, guiding me through a soft headspace where his voice is my leash and my comfort.

Then his voice tightens. “Fuck, Alena. Oh, fuck, you’re doing so good. So fucking good!”

I glance up, and his head is tipped backward, his lips parted as he pants. His cock twitches rhythmically on my tongue, and his balls tighten in my palm, all the tell-tale signs that he’s close to orgasm.

I want it. I want to taste him, I want to drown in everything he’ll give me, but just as his moans pitch and I open my throat ready for his cum, Kristof gently pulls me from his cock with a wet Pop.

“Why,” I whine sadly, confusion swirling like static in my chest. He was so close. I was doing so well. Why did he stop?

“Because, Alena,” Kristof says thickly. “I want to breed you properly. You’ve done so well for me, but I want to be inside you where I belong, understand?”

I nod, my eyelashes fluttering. “Yes.”

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