Page 25 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

Anoushka arches into me, her breasts crushed against my chest. "Please."

I look down at her blue-green eyes, watching me with a tenderness so soft and unexpected that I wonder if it’s the same woman I married.

The ache between my legs intensifies at her breathy plea. I slide my hands up the hem of her dress ever so slowly, allowing her time to stop me if she so needs. But she only parts them wider and pushes herself further up the desk, making space for me.

“Anoushka,” I whisper softly in her ear, gently biting down on it as my fingers brush the soft skin of her inner thighs. She shudders and tilts back her hair, the smell of her patchouli shampoo soaking into my skin. She’s so responsive, so ready.

And so mine.

I tear my mouth away from her ear, trailing kisses along her jaw. She tilts her head to the side, baring the long, pale column of her neck. The urge to mark her, to claim her in the most primal way, surges through me, but I hold it at bay, wanting to take it slow for her until she shows me she’s ready for more.

I've never wanted anything as much as I want her in this moment. The rest of the world fades away, and there is only Anoushka—her scent, her taste, her soft cries of pleasure. I move down and place myself between her legs, looking up at her. She gives me a slight nod and bites her lower lip, closing her eyes and leaning back on her elbows. I slide my hands higher, nudging her lace panties aside. She's soft and soaked, ready for me. I dip a finger inside her, groaning at the feel of her tight, wet heat enveloping me.

Anoushka throws her head back, lips parted in a silent cry. I add another finger, thrusting into her creases. Her inner muscles clench around me, drawing me in deeper.

I quicken the pace of my fingers, rubbing my thumb over her clit. Her breaths come in short, sharp pants as she chases her release. But there’s so much more I can do for her.

I slide my tongue across the length of her pussy and her legs tremble. She bucks, taken by the unexpected sensation. I watch as she opens her eyes, her pupils blasted wide with pleasure.

I give her a grin before sliding my tongue into her, my finger massaging her clit. She blushes and closes her eyes again, now lying flat on the desk.

I take my spare hand and reach out under her, gripping her ass tight.

“Oh my god,” she moans.

I change tactics. With my fingers now plunging inside her and my mouth sucking and licking her, Anoushka is now gasping and moaning uncontrollably. Her heavenly scent fills the air and hits me right at my cock.

I feel myself getting hard, my trousers constricting my length.

The things she does to me.

“Faster, Nikolai,” she commands.

I grin as I curve my finger and dab at the wall just below her clit, hitting her g-spot, hitting her g-spot. She arches off the table, her hands fisting in my hair as a strangled cry catches in her throat. Her inner walls clamp down hard, trembling around my fingers as she shatters. I work her through the aftershocks, prolonging her pleasure until she collapses back onto the desk, exhausted and sated.

Only then do I slide my fingers from her warmth, getting off my knees. I lean over her on the desk and brush a strand of hair from her flushed cheek. "That was quite something," I murmur.

Her eyelids flutter open, eyes soft with tenderness yet also playful. “Who said we’re done?” she whispers, sitting up.

I raise an eyebrow, and she raises one back with one side curved into a half-smile. God, she looks like she’s thinking things I want to bring into action. Dirty things.

My boner getting harder, I grab her thighs and pull her closer until my crotch hits against her pussy, her legs on either side of me. She reaches for my belt and unbuckles it when…

My god damn phone starts blaring.

Anoushka groans and flicks back her hair, scrunching her pretty little face in her signature bratty expression when she doesn’t get what she wants. "What now?"

I frown at the caller ID. It's Dima. Something must be wrong for him to disturb me during work hours. Usually, we catch up on business at the end of the day, between eight and nine p.m.

"I have to take this," I say with regret. "It's Dima.”

Her lips form a moue of disappointment, but she nods in understanding.

I step away to answer the call, my senses still attuned to Anoushka, angry at this interruption. "Talk to me."

"Nikolai, we have a situation here at Pass Code," Dima says grimly. "I need to speak to you in person. Right away.”

Shit. This complicates matters. Whatever could have happened for Dima to call an urgent meeting?

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