Page 39 of Accidental Bratva Daddy

But he's not done with me yet. Before I can recover, he turns me gently, bending me over the table. The position makes me feel deliciously vulnerable, completely at his mercy. I hear rustle of fabric, the soft sound of hand on flesh, and then his solid warmth presses against my back, his cock hard and ready to go once more.

"Tell me if anything feels too much," he says, his voice tight with restraint. "The babies..."

"Are fine," I assure him, pushing back against him impatiently. "Please, Luka. I need you so deep inside of me."

He enters me slowly, carefully, giving me time to adjust to each inch. When he's fully seated, he pauses, dropping kisses along my shoulder blades.

"Perfect," he breathes. "You feel perfect around me. Made for me."

His thrusts start slow and deep, hitting spots that make me see stars. One hand slides around to cup my barely-there bump protectively while the other grips my hip. The dual sensation of possession and protection makes me melt.

“This body is mine,” he growls, gradually picking up the pace. “You are my wife, Natalia. Say it."

“I’m yours,” I gasp, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Only yours, Luka."

His pace increases, the sound of skin against skin filling the dining room. The table rocks slightly beneath us with each powerful thrust. I can feel him starting to lose control, his rhythm growing erratic, his breathing harsh and ragged against my neck. His fingers trail down my stomach to find my oversensitive bundle of nerves, drawing tight, perfect circles that make my thighs tremble.

"So close," he pants in my ear, his thrusts pushing be down into the table. "You feel too good. The way you squeeze around me, like you never want to let me go."

His other hand slides up to cup my breast through the silk of my dress, rolling my nipple between his fingers. The dual sensation is overwhelming—his thick length stretching me perfectly from behind, his clever fingers working me from the front, the increased sensitivity from pregnancy making every touch electric.

"Luka," I gasp, my inner walls fluttering around him. "I can't... it's too much..."

"You can," he growls, increasing the pressure of his fingers. "Come with me, my love. Let me feel you come on my cock. Show me how good I make you feel by dripping all over the fucking floor."

The crude words in his refined accent push me closer to the edge. My whole body tightens, pleasure coiling hot and tight in my core. I'm vaguely aware that I'm babbling in a mix of Russian and English, begging him for release.

"That's it," he encourages, his thrusts growing deeper, harder. "Let go for me. Come for your husband.”

The possessive pride in his voice sends me hurtling over the edge. My release hits like a tidal wave, making me cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me. My inner walls clamp down around him rhythmically, pulling his own orgasm from him with a guttural groan of "Natalia" that sounds like it's been torn from his very soul.

For long moments afterward, we stay joined, his solid warmth draped protectively over my back as our breathing slowly returns to normal. His arms wrap around me, one hand splayed possessively over my stomach where our children grow. His lips trace tender patterns across my shoulders and neck—sweet nothings in Russian mixed with gentle kisses that contrast beautifully with our passionate coupling.

"My perfect wife," he murmurs against my skin. "My beautiful, fierce lioness. The mother of my children. How did I get so lucky?"

I turn my head to catch his lips in a slow, languid kiss. When we part, his ice-blue eyes are soft with an emotion that makes my heart skip.

"Stay with me tonight," he grumbles, helping me straighten my thoroughly rumpled dress. "Come back to bed."

The invitation is tempting—it always is with him—but exhaustion from the emotional evening with my family weighs heavily on me. "I need time to process everything," I tell him softly. "Rain check?"

Understanding flickers in his ice-blue eyes. With a final kiss that promises more to come, he leaves me to my thoughts.

The next afternoonfinds me at the kitchen table, surrounded by sketches for the twins' nursery. Sunlight streams through the windows, warming my skin as I work on designs for matching cribs. The house is quiet with Luka away on business—something about meetings that would keep him occupied all day. It's rare for me to have this much time alone with my thoughts anymore.

My hand drifts to my stomach as I sketch, imagining the lives growing within. Will they have Luka's eyes? My smile? The thought fills me with a mixture of joy and trepidation. What kind of world are we bringing them into?

My phone buzzes, interrupting my musings. A text from Uncle Viktor lights up the screen:

"Join us for dinner tonight, my dear. Your mother and Alina will be there. Time to bring this family back together."

My heart skips at the thought. Could this be the chance I've been waiting for? Viktor has always been the peacemaker in our family, the one person who could smooth over any conflict with his warm presence and understanding nature.

Another message follows quickly: "I've missed you. Let me help make things right."

Tears blur my vision as I read his words. Despite everything that's happened, despite the distance that's grown between us all, Uncle Viktor has always been there for me. From childhood scraped knees to teenage heartbreaks, he knew exactly what to say to make things better.

I glance at the clock, considering my options. Luka won't be back until late—his meetings often stretch well into the evening. My finger hovers over his contact, instinct urging me to seek his protection, his guidance. But something stops me.

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