Page 44 of Captured By the Bratva

His fingers curl inside me, hitting that sweet spot with perfect timing. I scream his name as I come, my insides clenching around his fingers in a desperate bid for more. He doesn't let up, riding out my climax until I'm panting and trembling beneath him.

When he finally withdraws, I feel bereft, my body still humming with residual tension. But before I can catch my breath, he shifts position, pulling me onto all fours. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize what's coming next.

"Stay still," he commands, his voice rough with need. "Don't move unless I tell you to."

I obey, biting my lip as I brace myself for what's to come. His hands grip my hips tightly, positioning himself at my entrance. Then, with one swift thrust, he enters me, filling me completely.

I cry out, my nails digging into the grass as he begins to move, driving into me with deep, powerful strokes. Every thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through me, making it hard to think, hard to focus on anything but the way he feels inside me.

"Look at me," he orders, his voice breaking through the haze of pleasure. "Watch me fuck you, Cathy."

I turn my head, meeting his gaze as he slams into me again and again. His eyes are dark with lust, his expression one of utter possession.

"Harder," I beg, my voice hoarse with need. "Please, Ivan, harder."

He complies, picking up the pace until I can barely breathe, let alone think. My entire world narrows down to the sensation of him inside me, to the way he feels, the way he sounds, the way he makes me feel like I'm the only thing that matters in the universe.

"That's it," he grunts, his fingers digging into my hips. "Take it, Cathy. Take everything I give you."

His words, his dominance, they push me over the edge. With a strangled cry, I come again, my body shaking violently as waves of ecstasy wash over me. He follows soon after, burying himself deep inside me as he reaches his own release, his breath hot against my neck.

We stay locked together for a moment, both of us panting as our bodies gradually calm down. Finally, he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty and sated all at once.

"On your back," he tells me, his voice softer now, almost tender. "Let me see you."

I comply, lying flat on the grass as he kneels beside me, his eyes roaming over my sweat-dampened body with a look of pureadoration. It's a stark contrast to the fierceness of his earlier actions, and I find myself smiling.

"Now," he says, his voice low and intimate. “Would you like a game of tennis?”

27

CATHY

One week later…

Our mornings have taken on a new rhythm. Ivan and I head to the tennis court almost every day now, a strange ritual we’ve fallen into.

The court is tucked behind the mansion, bordered by high hedges, offering a quiet space where, for a little while, the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

As I bounce the ball against the ground, I glance at Ivan across the net, trying not to let his intense gaze throw me off. His expression is cool, but I can see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You ready for this, or are you already regretting letting me choose the game?” I tease, sending the ball flying with a solid serve.

He returns it effortlessly, his smirk growing. “I don’t think I’ve ever regretted a challenge in my life.”

“Is that so?” I dart to intercept his next shot, barely making it in time. “We’ll see about that.”

The game unfolds with surprising ease. We volley back and forth, and each time I score a point, I hear a low chuckle escape him. It’s as if, with each play, a layer of his guarded composure falls away. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so… relaxed.

“Nice try,” he says after I miss a shot, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Almost.”

I roll my eyes, catching my breath as I prepare my next serve. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You expected me not to? I’ve been waiting to win since you insisted on playing yesterday.”

“Oh, we’re keeping score?” I shoot him a challenging look. “Should’ve told me sooner.”

The game picks up intensity as we both start playing with more determination. I manage to score a difficult point, and when I glance over, I catch him smiling—not the restrained, closed-off smile I’m used to, but something genuine.

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