Page 217 of The Lazarov Bratva

I want to feel close to him. As close as we can possibly get. I want to feel his hands on every inch of my body, wiping away every unwanted touch I’ve had to endure these past months. I want his lips on mine, giving me air. I want his cock inside me, fucking away the violating touches of the doctors who came to see me.

“Please,” I gasp against his lips, unsure how to position myself as his kisses deepen. “I want you. Can you… can we?”

Kristof’s tears mingle with my own, and he nods, seemingly too overcome with emotion to speak. Positioning himself behind me, he rips off his own clothes, and I’m given a glimpse of all the new scars and healing wounds across his body. There’s gauze taped to his ribs, and I touch it briefly, then allow him to help me out of my own clothes.

Taking me in his arms, Kristof kisses along my bare shoulder and cups my swollen breast with his hand. He squeezes and massages, pinching my nipples to hardness while I rock my hips back on his growing cock. Excitement pulses through me, and static runs like a charge across my skin. I need him to touch me and never stop.

Turning my head, I catch his lips with my own and kiss him deeply. His tongue dances across the seam of my lips, begging for entrance that I grant him just that as his hand moves from my breast to my thigh. With his help, I bend my leg at the knee and prop it up against my thigh. His talented fingers reach between my legs, and the moment he touches my pussy, my world shifts back into rotation.

“Oh, no,” I whimper against his lips.

Kristof pauses. “What is it?”

“How are you going to throw me around with only one hand?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then dry laughter rises from Kristof. It takes a second, and then, for the first time in what feels like an age, laughter bubbles in me too.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Kristof promises softly. “Just focus on this.”

My lips part, and a long, low moan sings from my throat as Kristof’s thick, throbbing cock slides inside me in a familiar, single move. It takes my breath away as he fills me full, and once he’s fully sheathed, he encourages my leg down and returns his hand to my breasts.

“I love you,” he groans as his hips begin to move. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you,” I gasp, then his tongue invades my mouth once more.

We become one.

Our hips rock together slowly, and from the angle, Kristof’s cock reaches deeper inside me than ever before. Maybe it’s because I’ve missed him so much, I can’t be sure, but the pleasure builds slowly with each stroke. His hand moves from teasing my nipples with gentle twists to caressing my belly and supporting me as we bring our hips together. Light, deep thrusts fuck gentle whimpers out of me, and I place my own hand over his, tangling our fingers together.

This is my bliss. My reward for surviving. Our terrors are dead, and I survived. We both did. We’re cobbled together pieces, but the important thing is that we made it through and our baby is safe. We’re both safe.

Kristof’s grip tightens, and he moves himself even closer to me, supporting himself on one leg as his thrusts deepen. His tongue leaves my mouth, but our lips dance against each other, sharing breath as our pleasure builds.

It works through me, pulling at old muscles, and my core clenches around each delicious thrust. Pleasure drives me higher, and gasps turn into pants. Heat washes over my body and sweat breaks out across my skin. Kristof’s moans are rough, his voice carrying a new edge that I find incredibly attractive.

“Fuck,” he gasps, and his hand lifts from my bump to my chin. He caresses my cheek and guides me into kiss after kiss as his cock thrusts harder and harder into me, chasing that delicious end.

I want it. I want everything he can give me.

“Please,” I whimper, moaning desperately and using all the strength I have to rock back onto his cock from this position.

Bliss hits me within three thrusts as we come together, and I clutch at his hand to keep us connected. Wave after wave of pleasure washes through me as my core repeatedly clenches around his cock. The familiar warmth of his orgasm flooding me brings a deep sense of satisfaction. We rock together, whimpering and moaning like nothing else matters.

I’m not sure how long we lie together like this, with Kristof inside me and my heart happy for the first time in months. Eventually, he pulls his softened cock from me and pulls the blanket over us. I turn my head and stare up at him, re-mapping every detail on his face.

“Thank you,” I whisper, “for coming back to me.”

“Always.”

I’m never taking my eyes off Kristof again. No matter what.

36

ALENA

“You sure we can’t burn it to the ground?”

My childhood home has become a hellscape. The floors and walls are stained with a familiar crimson. Every step highlights where someone died, where deserving members of the Kuznetsov Family met their demise at the hands of August’s men. The spray on the walls, the pools of blood marring the carpets and wood floors, the handprints on broken furniture and stair railings, all evidence of the fight I thankfully didn’t witness.

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