Page 77 of Mafia King's Bride

“I want you like this,” I rasp as I withdraw my hand, turning her around.

Her ass grinds against my crotch as the warm water pours down on both of us. Her whimpers push me close to the edge of a primal need, the overwhelming desire to own and pleasure her.

With one hand around her neck, I spread Ana’s legs again and find her clit with my thumb, circling it. She cries out as I apply a little more pressure, and my other hand cups her breast, gently tugging on her nipple.

When I slide my finger into her warmth again, she clenches tight and comes soon after, breathing heavily.

I hold her in my arms, then lift her, carrying her to the bed. Setting Ana down on it, with her eager eyes on me, I strip off my wet clothes.

Her eyes widen as I take my dick into my hand, stroking it while looking at her.Beautiful eyes. Gorgeous woman.

I climb the bed, kissing her softly on the mouth and then pulling her onto my body to straddle me.

“You want me here?” she asks, biting her bottom lip and looking naughty.

I brush a lock of hair from her face. “Yes,kotyonok.I want you on me, taking my dick into you, riding hard. I want to watchyour eyes roll back and see you unravel. Ineedto hear my name on your lips while I fuck you.”

She grows bolder with each word, and I bite back an oath when she places my hands on her hips, guiding my tip to her entrance. I thrust in slowly, watching her pupils widen as she takes me in.

“Fuck, Ana,” I groan. “You feel so fucking good. I’ll never get enough of you.”

When she doesn’t respond, I increase the pace of my thrusts, tilting my hips higher and pounding faster. My thumb finds her clit again, and I watch her eyes as they roll back, her chest heaving and her breasts bouncing.

I pour myself into her, giving back as much as I take. Her keen sounds of pleasure turn into loud moans that echo in the room, and she braces her hands on my chest, pushing down and rubbing her ass against my thighs.

The sound of her ass slapping against my body is nothing short of dizzying and unapologetically primal. It’s like the other times, but also as if it is the first time I’m discovering what it feels like to touch her body, learn her curves, and get a taste of heaven.

Her walls squeeze my dick as she falls over the edge, her body tensing, then relaxing. I find climax seconds later, letting go with my eyes tightly closed and the world shattering.

TWENTY-NINE

ANA

Well, here I am, standing outside the house where I grew up, feeling like I’m about to walk into a minefield.

The door swings open before I can chicken out, and suddenly, I’m surrounded by Papa’s minions—I mean,associates. God, I’d forgotten how creepy it is when they all stare at you.

Maria, our housekeeper—and let’s be real, probably the only sane person in this place—gives me a sympathetic smile. “He’s in his study, Miss Ana.”

Great. Papa’s lair. Where dreams go to die and organized crime goes to thrive.

I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and march toward certain doom. Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic, but after months of radio silence, what else am I supposed to think? If it weren’t for Viktor practically begging me to come, I’d be home binging Netflix and pretending I don’t have a family.

I knock twice, push open the door, and there he is—Nikolai Petrov, criminal mastermind and emotionally unavailable father extraordinaire, typing away on his laptop like he’s just another CEO and not the boogeyman of the underworld.

“Dochka,” he says, arms open wide like we’re in some Hallmark movie. “How are you?”

How am I? Oh, you know, just peachy. Got married off like a prized cow, haven’t heard from you in months, but hey, who’s keeping track?

Instead of saying any of that, I plant myself in the chair across from him and cross my arms. “Why did you send for me, Papa? After all this time?”

Damn it, my voice cracks. So much for my ice queen routine.

He has the decency to look ashamed, at least. “I’m sorry,” he says, and for a second, he actually sounds sincere. “I needed to make some things right before we could meet again.”

I can’t help it, I scoff. “Make things right? I don’t see that anything’s changed since you pawned me off to Dmitri like a bad poker debt. So, what’s your grand plan?”

He comes around the desk, perching on the edge like he’s about to deliver a pep talk. “Petrov men have always been proud, Ana,” he starts, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Here we go.

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