Page 87 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

“Why don’t I show rather than tell?” he replied with a husky tone, pressing his lips against my neck while gently caressing my curves.

“I’d like that,” I whispered, letting out a moan as his hand traveled up my thigh.

Vlad kissed my lips, and, at the same time, his fingers shifted my underpants to the side before sliding in. “Looks who’s wet already,” he teased with a thick voice that made my body tremble.

Vlad went down on his knees and stuck his head under my dress. His tongue was chilly as he licked my cunt and rubbed my clit.

“Yes,” I moaned in silence, shutting my eyes.

When the pleasure started getting to my brain, making me lose my senses, I covered my mouth with my palm in an attempt to muffle my moans.

He rose to his feet, lifting me in his strong arms as he walked over to a table beside a nearly completed portrait.

The room was dimly lit, with a lot of my work hanging here and there; it was my studio, and this wouldn’t be the first time we fucked in here.

He set me down on the table and engaged me in a very hot kiss that left us both breathless. I sat there, legs spread apart, as I struggled with his belt while still twirling my tongue in his mouth. Finally, I unbuckled the damn thing and undid his zipper. My blood was boiling with passion and desire, and in no time, I withdrew his cock. The weight of it in my hand never got old, and it always made me smile.

He grabbed my neck as if to choke me, and I stuck out my tongue, stroking his cock, my thumb smearing his precum over his cap. He bent over and kissed me while simultaneously fingering my pussy.

I lay on his cock, positioning it at my entrance with an inviting look etched upon my face.

Vlad pushed himself inside me, and we both moaned like two starving beasts. His thrusts were fast and hard, and I was trying not to scream out. The feeling was so overwhelming, and as usual, he was hitting the right spot.

My whole body was tensing, craving this man whose cock I could never get enough of.

His hands were all over my body, caressing my contours, as I felt hotter by the second. It was as if I was losing my breath and possibly my mind as well. The pleasure was too much to hold in, but I had to; there were people downstairs, and they could fucking hear us.

He turned me around, ramming my pussy from behind. I knew he was tempted to pull on my hair like he always did in positions like this, but he didn’t. I figured he couldn’t risk making a mess of my curls.

I winched at the pleasurable pain of his palm slapping my ass. I liked that; it was fucking hot, and he did it again and again and again. I was pretty sure that spot had turned red by now with his fingers imprinted on it.

I covered my mouth tightly, taking in his deep thrusts that traveled to my stomach. My eyes were turning white, and my breasts were pressed against the table below.

With a deep groan, he announced his arrival, filling my pussy with his load as I dragged out my moans, accepting all of it, every drop.

We let out a mutual sigh of satisfaction, and he pulled out of my slippery cunt.

He turned me around and kissed my lips. “Did I tell you that you look so beautiful today?” he asked, his breath heavy from all that banging.

Yes, he did, more times than I could count.

“I’m not sure,” I said, lying through my teeth.

He smiled and picked up a brush, then dipped it into a bowl of red paint. “You are the most beautiful woman alive, Sienna Wolkov.” He said, raising the brush with the paint dripping down.

I blushed, wondering what he planned on doing with that.

Gently, he raised my curly hair and spun me around. Seconds later, I felt the cool paint on my skin, caressing the back of my neck in one single stroke.

“This is a symbol of my undying love for you,” he said, clarifying his action.

I felt a thrill of excitement jolt through my body, making me more sensitive to the power of his love. I faced him again and took another brush, dipped it into the same red paint, and marked him on the back of his neck, somewhere below the collar of his white undershirt. “Now, we both are marked by this paint,” I said, wrapping my hand around his neck.

We spent the next few minutes kissing and giggling at his jokes.

“We should return downstairs before someone notices we’re gone,” he said, pulling his pants back up.

“Yeah, good idea,” I concurred, adjusting my gown.

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