Page 35 of Owned By The Bratva King

He cannot stay away because I have enraptured him, but I never did anything. It’s not as though I tried to get his attention. What magic do I have that captivates this gorgeous, possessive man?

“You know why I’m here.” He unbuttons his shirt, and my mouth goes dry when I clock his powerful chest and rippled abdomen. “Oh, Jesus Christ, rusalka.” His voice sounds almost tortured, a tinge of desperation seeping in. “Your innocence is killing me, but I love it too much to rip it away from you. I won’t force myself on you. If you want me to stop, leave, never speak to you again, say so.”

I know what a decent, respectable woman is supposed to do. I shouldn’t want this; we barely know each other. He’s a wealthy but dangerous man, involved in something that led to the stitches on his shoulder. As I move my eyes over his inked body, I see other scars, each with a story I haven’t yet heard.

But my mouth doesn’t move. All the words I could say are nowhere to be found because I don’t want to say them.

Decent and respectable can go to hell.

Roman is down to his underwear, and his cock is already thickening, stretching the fabric of his jockeys. I gulp, my eyes sliding up to meet his, and he grabs the edge of the duvet, pulling it slowly off my trembling body.

“You want me,” he murmurs. He climbs onto my bed, and it creaks slightly under his weight as he positions himself over me, his heat and presence overwhelming. “I know you do. Say yes.”

I’m shaking beneath him, but we both know this will happen. I nod, and he lowers his face to mine.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers.

Our lips meet in an explosion of pent-up desire. He kisses me hard, lowering his body onto me, and I’m astonished at his raw power. His skin is warm, his corded muscles shifting beneath it as he touches me, his hands sliding over my bare thigh.

“Fucking perfect,” he says, breathing the words into my mouth. He sits back on his heels, straddling me, and I’m shocked again at the size of his erection.

When he fucked my face, I didn’t get much chance to consider what it’d be like to have it inside me. Now the thought of sliding that girth into my tightness makes my pussy feel hollow, as though my body is calling for it. It might hurt, but there’s a deep, needful emptiness inside that only he can relieve, and I want to feel him there.

He sees the look on my face and laughs, dropping hot kisses on my neck. “Don’t be scared, baby. I promise to take it slow.”

Roman palms my tits as he slides my top over my head. “Your body is something else,” he says as he pinches my nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb. “How has no one touched you before? It’s fucking insane. How is a guy like me lucky enough to be your first?”

The sensation of his hands on me is enough to render me temporarily mute. He lowers his mouth to my breasts, sucking and biting my nipple, and pleasure floods my nerves, drawing a moan from my parted lips.

“Oh fuck, yeah.” Roman reaches for the waistband of my shorts. “More of that.”

He peels my shorts off to reveal my panties. My ass is so big that it tends to eat my underwear, so I mostly wear thongs for comfort. The one I’m wearing now is incredibly skimpy, and I can feel how wet I am.

Roman holds my thighs apart so he can see the hot place between my legs, his jaw slack with lust. “You’re soaked for me,” he says, running his fingertip over the fabric. “Just like before.”

What? I furrow my brow, and he catches my expression. “When you stayed at the hotel, I visited you while you slept,” he explains. “Jerked off right there and stared at your beautiful ass and this sweet, cock-hungry pussy.”

I want to react with outrage and embarrassment, but I haven’t got it in me to get mad. Notions of boundaries seem pointless; that ship has sailed, and all we have is now.

I shudder and gasp as Roman works his thumb over my clit, which stands fat and proud beneath my panties. It’s always been kinda prominent when I’m aroused, but Roman doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s only more turned on, enjoying the view as my underwear gets ever more drenched.

“Your pussy knows it needs to be wet for me,” he says. “I wanna taste it before I get in there and make it mine.” He surprises me by slapping my ass, making the flesh jiggle. “You want me to eat your juicy cunt, Quinn?”

His coarseness thrills me, and for the first time since he got here, I find my words. “Oh please,” I say, wriggling my hips. “Please do that to me.”

“I like that begging, rusalka.” Roman drags the flimsy thong down my legs, tossing it aside. “I like it a lot. Now, let me give my woman what she needs.”

His woman.

I feel his breath on my sensitive inner thigh and can’t suppress a flash of self-loathing. My legs are too big, my pussy lips too chubby, my ass too goddamn round.

He’s so ripped and clearly takes care of himself. I can’t compare to the kind of women who must throw themselves at him every day?—

My insecurities shatter into a million pieces at the touch of Roman’s tongue on my clit.

28

Roman

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