Page 40 of Arranged Bratva Virgin

“You were saving yourself for the one?”

She nods as her cheeks flush darker pink.

My heart clenches in my chest.

She didn’t choose to marry me. It was arranged. That means that she doesn’t see me as being the one.

The muscles of my jaw feather as I feel uncomfortably rejected.

How can I force her to be with me when I know she doesn’t view me as being the person she always thought she would find?

I slip my arm away from her, rolling to the other side of the bed. “I am going to make coffee. Do you want any?” I ask, perhaps sounding a bit annoyed, or hurt, who knows.

“Um—you’re going?”

“Yes. To make coffee. Do you want or not?”

When I climb out of bed, my cock is still hard. I grab the pair of sweatpants I kicked off beneath the blankets and pull them on quickly. Then I turn and head for the door. I feel the need to get out of here as quickly as possible. I hate this feeling running through me.

When I get to the door, I jump, because Darya’s hand grabs my arm.

“Wait, I didn’t want you to go yet,” she says, looking up at me.

“Why?”

“Because…I wanted…." She pulls me back towards the bed, and I narrow my eyes, curious about what she is doing.

Am I the one? Does she want to have sex with me?

She turns my body as we reach the bed and pushes me onto it.

She grabs my sweatpants and pulls them down, and I grin, feeling better already.

She does want me.

She grins mischievously, and then kneels on the bed in front of me.

She lowers her beautiful mouth towards my cock as she licks her lips, and I feel myself throbbing in anticipation of her gorgeous lips wrapping around me.

Her tongue glides up my shaft and I shudder at the pleasure of it.

She glances up at me.

“I didn’t want you to leave until I could return the favor. Fair is fair.” She drops her face again and her lips wrap around my cock. Waves of ecstasy rush through me, but as much as I want to let her carry on, I feel disgusting.

She is only doing this because she feels obliged to return the favor. She didn’t bring me back to the bed as her own choice—her own declaration that I am the one.

I am not the one.

So she is giving me a blowjob instead of her body.

A pity move.

The thought of her doing this out of sheer obligation knots my stomach.

“Stop,” I say, wrapping my hand around her shoulder and lifting her mouth off my cock.

Instantly I am filled with physical regret because of how incredible it felt, but no, this is not okay with me.

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