Page 22 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

“Who says?”

“Well … Oh ...”

He added another finger and thrust with no warning. I was on sensation overload, my head fell back on the glass wall, and I closed my eyes. Thoughts about Logan and how wrong this was, flew out the window and were immediately replaced by how good his fingers felt inside me.

“Mark...” His name whooshed out in a choppy plea.

“Open your eyes. I want you to see,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Your mouth says one thing, but your body says another.”

My eyes snapped open and met my reflection. Heat crept up my neck at the erotic sight. Staring back at me were half-lidded eyes, red cheeks, exposed ass, and parted lips, of the porn star herself—me. One of my legs was draped over the back of his thigh and I had my nails dug into the back of his arms.

He murmured against my mouth, “Look how fucking beautiful your body is, Addison.” My name sounded like a purr. “You fucking like this, don’t you?” His hand on the back of my neck slid into my hair. He twisted a hank into his fist and yanked my head back, as he roughly fucked his fingers deeper and his thumb caressed my clit.

More warmth flooded me, trickled down his fingers, and I craved more friction. Against all logic, I shamefully moved against his hand. I’d never been more confused; I wanted him as much as I hated him.

“Mark, please. We shouldn’t ...”

He swallowed my protest with his mouth. A feral sound left me, and my hands flew to his shoulders. Every part of me was throbbing. Needing more.

“God.”

“Me, hermosa. It’s me.” He licked my upper lip and increased his speed. “Say my name, baby.”

Baby?

Another finger joined the duo and unintentionally his name slipped past my lips, my breath shallow. “Mark...”

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me.” His intense blue eyes held me with focus and his jaw muscles ticked.

With each thrust, the rest of my words were swallowed up between delicious grunts and sighs as I climbed higher and higher to the peak. All I could do was feel.

“Come for me. Just me. Let go.” He demanded and gave my hair a sharp tug.

“Mark…”

I reeled in the ecstasy and rode his fingers until a strong wave of pleasure rocked me hard when I hit the climax.

I trembled with a muffled scream against his chest, and he pulled back with a smirk. With a peck on my lips, he whispered, “This is nothing compared to the other things I will do to you when you finally become mine. Just fucking wait and see.”

He raised his fingers to his lips—the same fingers that had been inside me minutes ago—and sucked me off.

My breath was trapped in my lungs, I didn't know how to react, and in the mirror, I stood there with flushed cheeks and half-baked eyes, watching him leave me in the awkward silence as he walked out the door.

****

Exactly forty-seven minutes. That's how long it took me to finally step out of the changing room.

What happened in the changing room, had to stay in the changing room. But the images and sounds were still vivid. How warm his body was against mine; how urgent his kisses were; how delicious he tasted.

Plus, the lingering traces of his fingers sliding in and out of me weren’t leaving my mind anytime soon.

My cheeks were hot as if they had been stamped with a branding iron. I couldn’t even look up or at Cielle as I handed her the pile of clothes Mark had picked out.

“Uh, hi. Um, could you ... could you please add these?” I threw in a pair of jeans and some casual T-shirts.

“Sure.” She took them from me and in a flash, I had a folded paper in my free hand. Now I looked up at her.

Her brows made a funny twitch, and she eyed the paper like she was trying to pass a message across. I didn’t know what it was, but I hid the paper between the band of my shorts and underwear.

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