Page 177 of The Lazarov Bratva

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ALENA

“I need you,” I gasp as my back hits the wall, air shocking from my lungs. “I need you to fuck me like you used to fuck me back in that cage.”

“Why?” Kristof’s question isn’t a no, but he’s poking at me for the reason, likely to determine exactly what I’m asking for.

“Because I’m sad. Because this has been too much pain and grief and I need to feel you. I need to feel like us before all of this went to shit. I want us to both switch off and deal with nothing but our raw feelings.” I grip at my blouse and rip it open with a soft grunt, sending buttons cascading everywhere. “I want to feel through my body, to feel like I belong, and you need to work out your stress.”

“But the baby…” His inky-black eyes drop to my slightly swollen abdomen as he stands over me with one arm up against the wall.

“I researched. Sex is good until like the third trimester. We can do it.”

My heart hammers so loudly in my ears that I can’t even hear my breathing despite how air scrapes across my tongue like paper.

The sunlight outside lasted only two minutes, giving way to dark clouds and pouring rain that splatters the windows and shakes the curtains.

I want to feel like we’re out in that storm.

“Fine,” Kristof replies, and his warm, callused hand wraps around my throat.

I lift my chin, setting it in the crock of his thumbs as my pulse quickens.

“But I’m not touching your abdomen.”

“Agreed. Now fuck me like you mean it!”

Kristof’s mouth collides with mine in a sharp kiss that clatters our teeth together. He snags my lower lip between his teeth and bites down sharply, pulling away so the flesh stretches until elasticity forces my lip back. Pain smarts through my mouth as I gasp, immediately sucking the swollen flesh into my mouth until he kisses me again and makes that impossible.

One hand remains firm around my throat while the other grazes nails hot down my breastbone to my bra. Fabric snags, then it’s ripped away from my body in a sharp snap of elastic. I yelp at the pain, my skin singing.

Lifting my own hands, I grip his shirt and crumple the fabric between my fingers in my desperation.

I want it off. I need to see him, to feel him. I want to trace his tattoos with my tongue while he fucks me with the force of the tiger in his ink. A few buttons snap free, but suddenly, Kristof’s other hand is in my hair, wrapping the strands around his fist. Combined with the hand around my throat, he pulls me away from the wall and into another heated kiss, and I’m blind to where he takes me.

Then he releases me and I fall onto the bed. The soft blankets only register for a single moment because Kristof is on me a second later, preventing me from bouncing, and the familiar bite of leather pinches into my left wrist.

Is it his belt?

I only get a glimpse before he pulls my arm behind my back and joins it to my other. His belt winds around my forearms, tying them together firmly enough to send an exciting thrill through my body. The throb between my legs is sharp and powerful, and I grunt into the mattress.

Yes. This is what I need.

“Please, Sir!” It’s been so long. Too long.

Kristof’s thigh forces my legs apart, and his nails scrape against my thighs as he pulls my skirt and underwear down, leaving streaks of fire against my skin. As soon as the fabric is free, he’s back over me as a warm weight I drink up like a woman parched.

His hand collides sharply with my backside, sending repeated thrills shooting through my core as he spanks me, and then, in a blink, two thick fingers are shoved deep into my pussy, tearing a strangled moan from my throat.

I jolt forward at the intrusion, and Kristof keeps one hand on the belt around my arms to hold me in place. They thrust deep, and my eyes roll back in my head when pleasure pulses hot through my gut. One hard stroke across my G-Spot and I’m a puddle. With my face against the bedspread, the warmth of my own breath against my skin makes me toss my head back and forth, seeking cooler air as Kristof’s fingers pump in and out of me.

He only does it for a few seconds, then another few spanks land harshly across my backside. Pain and warmth bloom across my skin. I moan low, trying to rock back onto his fingers each time he thrusts them inside me, but he’s too good at denying me leverage to do so.

I lose track of time, focusing on nothing but his constant teasing and spanking until he wipes my slick on the back of my thigh and steps away.

Panting, I stay there and don’t move. He hasn’t given me permission, and I’m not going to break a rule just to get what I want. With my pulse racing and sweat glistening across my skin, the bedspread sticks to my chest, so I toss my head once more, seeking a less smothering position.

When Kristof reappears, it’s like he answered my prayers. Hauling me from the bed by the belt around my arms, he sets me on the floor, face down. I keep my head to the side and get to watch that glorious tattoo ripple across his body as he begins to bind my body with a length of rope.

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