Page 95 of Plus-Sized Bratva Prisoner

We walk out of the coffee shop, and as soon as we are in the car, she starts laughing. The driver revs the engine as he pulls out onto the road.

“We made it out of another meeting with that idiot alive,” she grins, joking, but not joking.

“It’s cause for celebration don’t you think?” I ask, pulling her against my side.

“I think we need fancy champagne—somewhere I can dance a little.”

“Driver, take us to the Silver Fox Club in town.”

“Yes, sir,” he confirms.

***

The bouncer lets us in as soon as he sees us. We never have to stand in line in this city. We walk straight through to the VIP section, where I’ve already booked us a table so we can dance together without being pushed around in the crowd below.

At the table are two bottles of champagne, sitting on ice, waiting for us.

“Two.” She grins. “You are trying to get lucky tonight, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know I needed champagne for that.” I pull her against me, and we sway in time to the heavy bass pulsing from the speakers beneath us. The floor vibrates, and the energy of the club soon dissolves all memories of work and meetings and rivals and contracts.

All that matters now is Tia, in my arms, dancing with me.

As she moves against me, driving me crazy with each sway of her hips, twist of her body, each time she brushes over me, I think to myself, in all the world, in all the places, of all the people—I was lucky enough to find her.

Every day since I first laid eyes on her I have been grateful for that. I think about it often, and it brings a smile to my lips.

This beautiful girl. She belongs to me.

She is my wife and I get to keep her forever.

We dance for hours, drinking champagne, laughing and enjoying our time together. It’s amazing how whenever I’m with her, no one else exists, and when I’m not with her, all I think about is the next time I get to see her.

My world will never be the same again, and it’s the best thing ever.

“I love you, Tia,” I say, loudly so that she can hear me over the music.

She laughs. “I love you more,” she shouts back.

“I can’t handle this anymore,” I grin.

“What?”

“The way you’re moving. I have to take you home. It’s that or I am going to do indecent things to you on the couch in the VIP section and they might never let us in here again.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” she says with relief. “I was struggling with the same thing. Please take me home, right now. I need you.”

The champagne has tinted her cheeks pink. She’s always a little bit wilder after drinking—especially champagne. It brings her out her naughty side.

We both push through the crowds, Tia right behind me, up against my back as we leave the club, eager to get home.

Climbing into the back of the car, I realize I can’t make it home.

The driver has the divider closed, and we have complete privacy in the back of the car.

I grin at Tia, and she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

She shifts her body, climbing into my lap, pulling her skirt up. She starts slowly dancing on my lap.

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