Page 21 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

Now, we are both staring down each other, waves of anger encompassing us in one bubble. His ice-blue eyes surrender in mine, and I can almost count every streak of brown in them.

The air crackles with tension as Damien and I stand fixed in close proximity, our chests heaving with the intensity of our emotions. The space between us feels electric, charged with a mix of anger, frustration, and something deeper—a raw desire that has been smoldering beneath the surface since our forced union.

“Is this what you want, Genevieve?” Damien’s voice is low and dangerous as he speaks at last, his green eyes boring into mine. “To prove yourself so badly that you’re willing to risk everything, including your safety and life?”

“Maybe I am,” I reply defiantly, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound strong. “Or maybe I just want to be seen as more than a possession—a fragile object to be protected.”

“Damn it, Gen,” he growls, taking a step closer, bridging the gap between us. “You know that’s not how I see you.”

“Then show me otherwise,” I challenge, refusing to back down.

In an instant, Damien’s hands grip my waist, pulling me roughly against him. His lips crash onto mine in a searing, possessive kiss that leaves me breathless. I should push him away, tell him he can’t shut me up.

But just then, he places one hand on the nape of my neck, and I melt into his arms. Who the hell am I kidding? I’d be lying to myself if I say I don’t want this.

I want this. I want him. I’ve wanted him since that kiss on the altar, and from the way he’s groaning in my mouth, I can tell he wants me, too.

It’s as if all the passion and fire that has been building between us since we got married erupts in this single, explosive moment.

I wrap my arms around his neck, surrendering to the sensation of his mouth on mine, the taste of his desire, the heat of his body pressed against me. There’s an urgency, a desperation in the way we cling to each other that goes beyond words and logic.

“Genevieve,” Damien murmurs against my lips, his breathing labored.

“Bedroom. Now,” I whisper, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I can’t fight this. I want to feel his fingers on my bare skin, which is now burning like an addict waiting for a fix.

With that, he lifts me effortlessly into his arms and carries me to the bedroom, laying me down gently on the soft sheets.

I watch as Damien’s hands slowly travel to my clothing, his movements confident and sure. His eyes are dark with desire, his gaze unwavering as he begins to unbutton my shirt and slide it off my shoulders. He devours every inch of my skin as he exposes it. His fingers touch my now bare skin, reaching toward the straps of my bra.

He puts his lips on my neck, and I feel so vividly alive. The tickle from his stubble, the warmth from his breath, and the cold from the air all mix together to send shivers down my spine. He pulls down the straps of my bra and slowly kisses the cleavage popping through.

I, on the other hand, do something I’ve never done before. I reach down and caress his contained cock through his trousers, now fighting to be free.

He helps unbuckle his trousers and kicks them off, his boxers following. This whole time, he watches me sit there.

Then, he places his hand on my stomach and slowly crawls down to the band of my trousers. He unbuttons them and slides them off me, using the force from one hand to lay me down against the bed.

My breath catches in my throat as he stares at me lying in his bed, almost naked. I feel a sudden wave of vulnerability wash over me. My body trembles with both anticipation and fear, anxious about the unknown. He doesn’t know it, but he’s the first man to ever see me naked.

His fingertips trace patterns along my bare skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concern etched on his features as he notices my discomfort. I nod silently, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He nods and kisses a trail down my breasts, now unbuttoning my bra and throwing it on the floor. He gingerly takes my breasts in the cup of his hands and slowly sucks one nipple, then moves to another. I weave my hands through my hair and arch my neck back, savoring this sweet, sensational bliss.

I feel high. I feel scared. I feel nervous. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Our lips collide once more, tongues dancing and tasting each other, a fire igniting deep within me, an insatiable ache I’ve never known before. I grip his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles beneath my fingertips, and pull him closer. His hands, rough yet gentle, caress my breasts, and I moan softly, unable to control the sensations coursing through my body.

Slowly, with his tongue still on my mouth, he inches his fingers down to my thighs. Gingerly, he parts them. I feel his fingers brush against the delicate skin of my inner thigh, a shiver coursing through me at his touch. It’s a foreign sensation, but it’s exciting and intoxicating. I’m acutely aware of every single touch, every small movement of his body as it brushes against mine.

His fingers start to trace the edge of my panties, and I swallow hard, trying to steady my breath. This is it. This is the moment of truth that I’ve been both dreading and anticipating all night. In slow motion, he peels off my panties and then stops kissing me.

I close my eyes, too nervous to watch, as he places the head of his cock between my legs, teasing me with it. I brace myself, wondering how it will feel. Will it hurt? Will it be excruciatingly blissful?

I feel his skin against my most intimate parts, and a whirlwind of emotions engulfs me. This is where I’ve never been touched by anyone, even myself. This is the final frontier. And here he is, ready to explore it.

My breathing quickens, and my heart pounds like a drum in my chest. This is intense and unnerving. My legs quiver, wanting more and wanting it now. I feel hot, like fresh out of an oven and everything within me is melting, dripping.

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