Page 32 of Unwilling Bratva Bride

Not so rough…

But I didn’t want him to stop. Hell, I was aching for him to continue, for Ivan to pay this kind of attention to my dripping pussy.

He seemed to read my mind because, after another shove that forced his length down my throat, Ivan yanked himself back. Leaning over me, Ivan thrust his arm between my legsand hauled me up off the floor. I was flung over his opposite shoulder, my slit sliding across his skin.

I yelped as Ivan carried me to the bedroom and flung me back down on the bed. I landed on my side, and then Ivan’s hands were on my hips, pulling them up and back so that I kneeled on the mattress with my shoulders still down.

My cheeks burned. I knew exactly what I looked like in this position, my pussy on full display. I couldfeelthe cooler air flowing over my wet folds, and I was utterly frozen.

“Goddamn, sweetness. You’re so fucking wet for me already.”

The bed dipped as Ivan climbed on, and I futilely tried to clench my thighs together. My hair had fallen into my face and bunched around my shoulders. At once, I realized that the long scar on my back was totally visible now, and the light in the bedroom was brighter than in the bathroom.

I whimpered.

“What’s this?” Ivan’s fingers trailed along the healed injury, and I shook beneath his touch. “Don’t tell me you were a reckless teen.”

Shaking my head, my eyes burned. “No. I…”

What was I supposed to say?

“What? Tell me.”

The command in Ivan’s voice was deep, but he still smoothed his fingers over the skin so gently.

“Car accident. My side was hit. I…I had some disks fused.”

That was certainly the short version of the story, but the words were out, and I actually felt a bit relieved to have just let it out like that.

“You had surgery?”

I hummed a confirmation.

“It was pretty bad, then?” He asked, and I tensed, pulling my arms closer to my sides. I was still just splayed open for him, and Ivan’s fingers still traced the line that rand down my lower spine, almost…petting me.

“Yes.” It was all I could say.

“Well, it sounds like you have a better excuse than I did.”

My heart slammed against my ribs, and I turned to face him, pulling my hair back so I could see his face.

Ivan smirked, lifting one side of his mouth, and pointed with his free hand at the tattoo on his forehead.

“I caused this one. Car accident. Though, I’d been young and stupid—and really fucking angry—and nearly got myself killed.”

“Ivan, I…” My eyes fell, and I shook my head.

“Scars happen, sweetheart. But they don’t define you.”

The words hit me as hard as that car had, and I looked up to search Ivan’s face for…something. He just grinned, easy and beautiful as ever. The stroking across my scar stopped, and he slid his hand up my back to wind my hair around his fist.

Softness didn’t exist then, and Ivan pulled me backward until my back crashed against his chest. I could feel his erection slide between my thighs, the ridge of his head teasing my slit, and I moaned roughly.

“Don’t ever doubt your worth, Adley. Some scar, some shitty job, doesn’t create who you are. You do that.”

Ivan’s other hand snaked around to my breast, and he found my pebbled nipple, pinching down on it so hard I cried out, arching into his grip.

“That’s it, baby. Sing for me.”

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