Page 51 of Forced Bratva Bride

The man my father forced me to marry.

But Maxim looks genuinely worried about me. Overprotective, but caring.

And for some reason that brings me some kind of relief. I like the fact that he might actually care. I want him to be angry that I was in danger, but I definitely don’t want to be yelled at right now.

Seeing the knotted, tight expression on my face and the way my eyes blaze heatedly, Maxim stops shouting. He stops doing anything at all. He just stands over me, staring down at me, and then a sly grin crosses his face.

My eyes trace over his naked chest again, and the dark grey sweatpants he is wearing. Why does he have to be topless? It's so distracting.

“Use me,” he says, his voice dark and suggestive.

“What?” I snap.

“Use me. Use my body. Take out your frustration.” He steps closer, his chest pressed up against me, his skin glistening from his workout.

Instantly my pussy heats up, begging to do exactly what he has suggested.

“You think I want sex now?” I say, shocked.

“No, I think you want to punch a wall, but take your anger out on me instead.”

“This is ridiculous—"

He grabs my throat, tilting my head up towards his face.

“We can play any game you like,” he growls.

I kick at him, hard, and he drops his hand away, that same sly grin still on his lips.

Without thinking, I rush towards him and shove him. He staggers backwards, laughing softly.

So I push him again and then leap into his arms, the impact knocking him backwards and landing him hard on his ass on the gym mats.

I grin when I see his expression. This is actually fun.

He grabs the edges of my t-shirt and rips the fabric right off my body. His eyes lock onto my naked breasts and a scowl knots his brow.

“You went out without wearing a bra?” he says angrily.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” I snap, as I press both of my hands over his throat and push him against the gym mat while I straddle his body.

He chuckles.

“Is that all you’ve got, babygirl?”

He reaches down and grabs the button of my jeans, undoing it, then lifts me and pulls them off, throwing them to the side.

My body is on fire with need. When he drops me back on top of him, my pussy presses against his sweatpants and I can feel how hard his cock is.

I slap him as hard as I can.

His eyes turn ice-blue and narrow.

One side of his mouth curls up.

I grab his sweatpants and yank them down, freeing his cock. Then I pull my panties to the side and, gripping his cock in my hand, I sit on it, feeling it slide into me.

“Don’t you dare fucking move,” I whisper with warning.

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