Page 49 of Owned By The Bratva King

The effect of this remark on Roman is electric. He yanks me backward, pulling me fully into his lap as he tucks his knees between mine.

With a quick motion, he opens his legs, parting my thighs and exposing my flushed pussy lips. My clit is swollen and tender, and as his thumb finds it, I let out a long, slow whimper of relief.

“That’s what my wife needs.” He raises his feet to the couch, digging his heels in for leverage. “Fuck birth control, rusalka. I want your belly swollen with my baby.”

As if to emphasize his point, he shoves me down hard onto him, making me cry out.

“I’m gonna fill you with come,” he murmurs, “but not before you get yours. Prikhodi za mnoy, moya zhena. Come for me.”

38

Roman

What a view.

I'll never get tired of watching that generous butt of hers bouncing on my dick. I love the way her flesh undulates as she moves. It's so fucking hot to me.

I've never understood the appeal of the severely underweight female aesthetic—I want my woman to eat like a boxer and have the strength to stand up to the kind of fucking I want to do.

I can't take much more. My climax is already gathering steam, rolling up through my abdomen. I have to force Quinn to come before I explode; the thought of emptying into my wife's fertile pussy is too tempting to resist for long. She is so new to sex and long overdue the orgasms she deserves.

"Give me what I want, Quinn." I find a rhythm, massaging her clit as I forge in and out of her. "I wanna feel you come."

Quinn slumps back against me, her head on my chest. I grab her neck with my free hand and lie flat, giving me all the space I need to slam into her. She squeals, only to be cut off by my fingers constricting her throat.

"Take my cock, gorgeous girl." My words are hot and frantic, coming out too fast as I whisper them in her ear. "I want you to come. Give me those slutty little moans."

It's happening. Quinn's pussy muscles flutter against my hardness, hitting every sensitive spot at once, and with one firm squeeze, I'm undone.

My climax overwhelms me as her body arches away from mine, and I wrap my arms around her as she writhes, my cock buried as deep as it will go as I pump her full of my seed.

"Ohhh!" she cries, tension giving way to a shudder of bliss. Then she's limp in my grip, and I roll her onto the couch beside me.

I bring us bathrobes and drinks. We don't speak for a while, and I silently curse the relentless march of time as we watch the sun drop ever closer to the horizon. If it were up to me, I'd stay here forever.

"Tell me about yourself." Quinn reaches out to touch my arm. "Are your parents still around?"

I know plenty about her; Viktor gave me the information when I asked him to make a dossier on Quinn Sullivan, but it was surprisingly sparse.

Her parents were murdered, but there was virtually nothing to see in their file. Nothing is too personal when there's money involved, but even with Viktor's generous compensation, none of our street-level info miners have found Uncle Julian, either. Yet.

"My dad threw my mother out of the house when she got sick," I begin. "I left with her and nursed her until she didn't need me."

The sun behind her makes Quinn glow, a corona framing her hair, and I'm struck again by her otherworldly beauty. I wouldn't be surprised if she dived over the side and returned to her underwater mermaid kingdom.

"How old were you when your mother fell ill?" she asks.

"Twelve." I shift in my seat so I can turn to face her. "Mama had a brain-wasting disease. It wasn't formally diagnosed, but the doctor told us it was likely to be a prion of some kind. The tests would cost a fortune, and there was little to no chance of saving her if the physician's hunch proved correct."

Quinn is listening intently, her focus entirely on me. It feels good. No one since my mother ever gave me their complete attention unless I had a gun in their mouth.

"Papa had no insurance, and flat-out refused to pay for the tests, saying she'd get better or she wouldn't. I pleaded with him, but all it got me was a busted lip. She got slower, less coordinated, and slurred her speech. Then I came home one day to find him packing a bag."

Fuck. I haven't even thought about any of this since it happened.

"He told me we were leaving Mama behind as she'd be dead soon. I swore I'd never leave her, and we got into a fight. I broke his nose, and he stabbed me in the thigh with his flick knife. He called me worthless and walked out the door. We never saw him again."

Quinn's voice is almost a whisper. "How did you?—"

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