Page 58 of Mafia King's Bride

Fear? Excitement?

Both work in my favor.

Without warning, I seize her, pulling her against me. She gasps, her nails digging into my chest.

I crush my lips to hers, devouring, possessing. A primal sound tears from my throat as I break away, my control slipping for a dangerous second.

Ana isn’t just warmth; she’s third-degree burns. Our mouths clash again, a battle for dominance that I have no intention of losing. She yields, opening to me, and I push forward, claiming what’s mine.

In this moment, I’m not just taking Ana. I’m conquering my own weakness, turning it into strength. She may have softened my heart, but I’ll use that to make myself more formidable than ever.

Dmitri Orlov doesn’t fall in love.

He takes what he wants and makes it his own.

I can feel her nails as she grabs my shoulders to steady herself against me. Her body is soft, slipping across the fabric of my clothes as I pull her in.

“There’s something about kissing you. I don’t know what it is, but I want to keep doing it,” I murmur, and I can’t tell if she heard me.

I hope that she did; I don’t have the presence of mind to repeat it.

Ana reaches for my face, but I intercept her hand, gripping her wrist firmly.

I’ll dictate the pace here.

Slowly, deliberately, I lower my mouth to hers, asserting my dominance with a deep, possessive kiss. I capture her lower lip between my teeth, eliciting a soft gasp from her.

She is compliant and silent, and I prefer it that way. Words could shatter this moment, bring reality crashing back in. I won’t allow that. Not yet.

Without breaking the kiss, I feel her hand on my elbow, trying to guide me. I resist for a moment, reminding her who’s in control. Then, deciding to indulge her, I allow her to place my palm on her breast. Her heart races beneath my touch.

I growl low in my throat, pleased by her submission. My other hand slides to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as I deepen the kiss. I explore her mouth thoroughly, claiming every inch as mine.

She may have softened me in some ways, but in this, I remain unyielding. I am Dmitri Orlov, and what I desire, I take. And right now, I desire her completely.

I can feel the weight of her breast against my palm, the soft poke of her nipple showing her arousal.

She’s a beautiful woman.

My wife.

I cradle her face in my hands.

“I want more of you. Everything.”

Her moan is shy of a gasp, fast and forceful, as she watches me kiss her hand. A kiss for each knuckle, I trail my way up past her wrist, and soon, I’m at her neck, kissing desperately, trying to mark every bit of her with my claim.

I can’t explain what happens next; as she stands before me, eyes partly closed in a daze, I’m overcome with the possessiveness of a man married for more romantic reasons. I want her; I want her because she’s mine. I want her because I chose her. I want to please her, to keep this expression on her face forever.

She gasps as I pull down the top of her dress. The slip below follows the outer material as I bare her breasts to me.

My mouth is on them before she can ask me what I mean to do. I should show her now isn’t the time for words.

My lips wrap around her nipple as I suck and tease, flicking my tongue against the small pebble. I need no other motivationto go on; her hand against my head, pushing me closer to her chest, is all that’s required.

She all but hugs me to her as I taste her, pushing her sensitive nub against my teeth as I pull softly.

“D-Dmitri,” she stutters, “someone might come?—”

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