Page 20 of Forced By the Bratva

His breath became ragged, almost like a growl, which only turned me on further. I started to push back against him, trying to get him off. He didn’t seem bothered, but he was going so fast, and I was getting close to coming again. He kept moving his hips back and forth, thrusting himself deeper into me.

My thighs were shaking and trembling at how good it felt to have him pounding into me, but I wouldn’t give up yet, no matter how close I was to climax. I was determined to hold out until the last possible second. I had no idea if the man would take mercy on me, which made me want him all the more. My body seemed to relax, and the pressure against my inner walls disappeared just when I was about to cum, making me groan in frustration, feeling too far away from the end, even though I could feel the orgasm building.

The pulling in my abdomen suddenly returned with even more force, and I let out a slight squeak, which made Feliks reach out to cover my lips with his hand. It was a tense time waiting for the finish line to hit, but it did come, and I eventually gave in and released with a loud cry. Feliks followed shortly after that, and then both of us were left panting after our second sexual encounter.

Chapter 12 - Feliks

I opened my eyes slowly as the rays of the morning sun shone directly on my face. I yawned and stretched out on my bed. I turned my head, discovering that my little bride wasn’t by my side.

A smile carved out on my lips as I stood up and walked into the bathroom to get a shower.

While brushing my teeth, I couldn’t help but reflect on how my life had turned out in the last few months; I never thought I would be here.

I always thought having a wife would be torturous, but it relaxed me when I returned from work late at night and found her sleeping peacefully in my bed.

“I have someone to come home to.” I chuckled lightly.

I’d never settled before this. I was always traveling around for business. Finding a place of belonging finally wasn’t that bad, after all.

I walked out of the shower and went straight to my wardrobe to get dressed. I pulled out a pair of black shorts and a simple brown shirt that hugged my skin.

I looked back to my bed, and my wife still wasn’t there. I wondered if she’d gone downstairs.

“Obviously,” I murmured to myself. “Where else would she be?”

I went to the living room, still thinking about her.

A lot had changed since she came into my life, and I didn’t think there was much to regret. I hadn’t found anything to regret yet. I was smiling when I suddenly noticed someone in the dining room.

It wasn’t the housekeeper. It was my wife. She was all alone—and not just alone. Jenna was setting the dining table, wearing an apron. She wore a neutral expression, and all her attention was focused on what she was doing.

I looked around the living room and the dining room, and there was no sign of any housekeeper around. I scowled.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs to stare at her for a while. She didn’t seem to notice that someone was watching her. I held my hand on the railing tightly as I watched my wife setting plates and other cutlery around the table.

I cleared my throat, and she quickly turned to face me, lifting her hand to her chest. She sighed when she realized that it was me.

“I am supposed to scare you more,” I murmured as I walked toward her.

She didn’t respond. She just stopped what she was doing and stared at me for a little longer.

“Where’s the housekeeper?” I asked as I stared at the table.

At that point, freshly toasted bread and fried eggs filled my nose. I could also smell orange juice, and my mouth began to water.

“I sent the housekeeper away,” she replied calmly. “I wanted to make something.”

She smiled as she turned slightly toward me, and my eyes locked hers. Her eyes glittered, and I was forced to gulp against my wish. She was effortlessly pretty, and I’d never gotten used to her looks.

I smiled, immediately recalling her response when she gave me a questioning glare. I hoped that I hadn’t been staring at her for too long.

“Oh, I see,” I responded, trying to sound normal.

I found it cute that Jenna was making something. Acting like a housewife on a Sunday morning was cute.

She smiled before she sat down and invited me to join her. I looked around the table. She opened a platter, and the aroma of the sauce filled my nose. There was freshly made bacon, too.

“I made a lot since I didn’t know what you would want for breakfast,” she told me.

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