Page 48 of Owned By The Bratva King

He doesn’t give a shit that I’m fat, inexperienced, poor, and lonely. He’s undone the last three items on that list by sheer force of character, and the first one…well, he’s positively feral for my generous curves.

With a soft smile, Roman stands up and reaches for his fly buttons. I can see the desire in his eyes as he reveals his erection, standing tall and proud against his taut abdomen.

I sit on the bed, my legs trembling as Roman kneels before me. His fingers trace the curve of my hip, and I feel his breath against my skin as he speaks in a low, husky voice.

“You’re everything, Quinn. This pretty pussy is aching for me and me alone. You’ll never need anyone else.”

His hand moves lower, and I breathe in sharply as he reaches the dampness between my legs, his fingers probing my entrance. With one hand, he spreads my pussy lips and slides his fingers into me, first one, then another.

The fullness is so satisfying, and as he pumps a steady rhythm inside me, his thumb brushes against my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout my body.

His mouth descends on me again, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive skin of my neck as his hand continues to explore. His cock grows harder against my thigh, and my internal walls clench around his fingers as he moves in and out, driving me wild with each thrust.

“It’s not enough, is it?” Roman asks, his breath hot in my ear. “You’ve had my cock inside you, and nothing less will do. Be patient, moya zhena. I’ll give you what you want until you beg me to stop.”

“You’re teasing me,” I gasp. His other hand reaches for my nipple, pinching it gently between his fingers, sending shivers of sublime sensation through my body. “Why? Didn’t I do it right last time?”

“You did, and you always will,” Roman replies. He continues to finger me, his cock hard and throbbing as it strains against his body. I can feel the heat radiating from it, and my pussy spasms with need, longing to feel him filling me up.

His erection stands at attention, the head glistening with his own arousal. I wrap my hand around it, and he moans softly as I stroke him, his eyes never leaving mine.

Without warning, he kicks off his pants and straddles my chest, pinning my arms beneath him as he cups my breasts, pressing them together. He buries his cock in the fleshy valley between them, and his pre-come lubricates my skin, making it easy for him to slide back and forth.

“Open your mouth and let me in,” he says, the swollen tip of him bumping my chin with each thrust. “You’re so beautiful, Quinn. Let me fuck your pretty throat.”

I do as I’m bid, and Roman groans with satisfaction as his shaft slides over my tongue. The head of his cock hits the back of my throat, but I remember from before what I need to do and relax the muscles to keep the gagging spasms to a minimum.

He tastes of salt and clean skin, and the relentless hardness of him crowds my mouth. My pussy clutches jealously, and I give a little squeak of shock as he pulls out suddenly, rubbing his saliva-slick length between my tits again.

“I want you to ride me.” He pumps his hips harder, and I wonder if he will come on my face before I even get the chance to feel him inside me. “If I can stop doing this, I’ll move, but fuck. It feels so good.”

He thrusts a couple more times, then climbs off me and drags me to my feet. He rips open his shirt, buttons popping off and rolling away over the deck. He’s like a statue that has come to life, some ancient God figure or something. A Roman God.

“You’re smiling.” Roman tugs the dress over my hips, and I step out of it. “I like to see that. Not shy anymore, are you?”

I’m standing on the deck of a multi-million-dollar yacht, and I’m not wearing a stitch. It doesn’t seem right, but there’s no one here but my husband and me.

Husband. This ridiculously hot man is married to me. This man who is sitting on the seat, muscular thighs splayed, cock standing proud and ready to pound my pussy until I scream.

“I’m not afraid,” I say. “I’m too turned on by you. It can’t be healthy.”

Roman pats his legs. “It’s very healthy, baby. Bring your big beautiful ass over here so I can fuck your wet little pussy. It’s been deprived enough for one day.”

I step to him and turn around. He grabs my waist firmly and pulls me down onto him, pinning my legs closed with his own.

The thick tip of him is hot against my almost-closed entrance, but my juice makes it easy for him to move, and he releases an animal growl as he penetrates me. My thighs burn with the exertion of holding the half-squat, but I remain in place so he can move me as he chooses.

The pressure of only feeling the first couple of inches is maddening, and I can’t resist grinding my hips, trying to get more of him inside.

“Easy.” He lowers me slowly onto his girth, and I give a soundless gasp as he bottoms out. “I know you want it.”

He releases my waist, and I look over my shoulder to see his hands crossed behind his head. “Ride it, rusalka,” he says with a grin. “Fuck yourself with my cock. You’re not a virgin anymore, and your cunt needs me to stretch it out.”

I put my hands on his knees to steady myself and lift my body until only the first inch of his cock is inside me, then slide down again, my ass slapping on his hips. The position makes me even tighter around him, and he hisses through his teeth as he winds my hair around his hand.

“That’s it. Keep going.” He pulls my hair as I move up and down. “Your clit needs some attention, right?”

I’d nod, but he’s holding my head back. “Yes. I just want to come. Don’t torment me. But don’t come inside me again—we haven’t discussed birth control.”

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