Page 13 of Forced Bratva Bride

As soon as we reach the dance floor, I spin her around to face me and grip her tightly against my body.

She smiles when she feels me still hard against her.

We move together, her body brushing against mine as I fight for control.

Her wide eyes stare up at me, and I know she is as turned on as I am. She is touching me, intimately, gently, her fingers brushing across my cheek. Her eyes are warm and inviting.

I lean down and kiss her, softly this time, as the music continues to play. She lifts herself toward me and responds to each move I make.

I cannot wait to pull this dress off her in the privacy of our honeymoon suite.

The spotlight fades off us, and the music changes as other couples join us.

“I think I need to get another glass of champagne,” she whispers, stepping slightly away from me.

“Don’t you dare move,” I growl, pulling her tighter against me, knowing she is doing it on purpose. “You will stay exactly where you are until what you have done to me settles.”

“And what have I done to you, Maxim?” she smirks.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t feel exactly the same way, Chiara. I can read your body like a book. I know what you want.”

“Mm,” she hums noncommittally, resting her head on my chest as we continue to dance until my cock relaxes and the next song begins.

During our very elaborate dinner, and throughout the speeches, I keep her close to me, my hand resting on her leg when we sit next to each other and my arm around her waist when we walk through the room. I can’t seem to let her go, and to anyone watching, we must look like the perfect couple.

Finally, after a long night of entertaining our guests, the reception comes to an end. My mind is tired from all this socializing, and I can’t wait to get Chiara into the bedroom alone.

I don’t even know how she will respond to me when we aren’t in public view, but I know what I want, and I'm struggling to be patient about it.

She excuses herself, telling me she is headed up to the room now, while I'm still stuck in a conversation with someone.

I nod. “I will be up in a moment, my love.”

She tilts her head, presumably at the term of endearment I've assigned her this evening, then turns to walk away from me. I stare after her, watching the way the wedding dress flows around her body like water.

“Your wife is beautiful. You are a very lucky man, and you two look so happy together.”

“Thanks,” I say, not taking my eyes off her until she disappears from my sight.

“So, shall we get together next week to discuss that new client? I think he will be interested in what you have on offer.”

“Yes, of course. I'll hand his details over to Paval, he handles that side of things. But it'll be good to meet.”

I want this conversation to end. I'm not at my own wedding to talk about business.

The man drones on for another fifteen minutes before I can’t take it anymore.

“Let’s continue this conversation another time. I have my beautiful wife waiting for me, and I'd like to spend the rest of the night enjoying my time with her,” I wink.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he chuckles, saying his goodbyes and walking away.

Before anyone else can rope me into another conversation, I rush out of the reception venue of the hotel and step into the elevator, making my way to our honeymoon suite.

My heart is pounding, and my body is tense with anticipation.

When I arrive, I notice that the door is slightly open. She must have left it that way for me. This is a really good sign.

I walk through the sitting area to the bedroom and freeze in shock.

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