Page 27 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"So fucking beautiful," he muttered, dropping his pants. His hands reached for his cock, and he fisted it cruelly as he spread her wider. "I need you bare, Amy. Tell me I can."

"I'm on birth control," she mumbled distractedly as he nudged his tip against her entrance.

"Yes or fucking no, Mishka," he snarled, his body tensed above her. He didn't give a shit if she was on birth control or not. Flashes of a pregnant Amy flickered through his mind, and his whole body shuddered with want.No, he really didn't care if she was on birth control.

"Are you clean?" she whispered, and his grin was smug. Even lust-drunk and underneath him, she was pushing against his control. He loved it as much as he hated that she didn't trust him. That would come soon. It had to.

"Yes, I'm fucking clean. Yes or no." He pressed a little deeper, rocking into her the barest amount. He wouldn't risk her like that. Her hands reached for his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as she added to the little scratches she'd left there earlier. Ivan's eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Amy?"

"Yes," she hissed, arching with a scream when he thrust to the hilt into her. A groan burst from his lips, and he palmed her thigh, leaning on an elbow as he rocked into her.

There was no finesse; he didn't have the patience for that with her underneath him like this. His name spilled from her lips as he fucked her—his normal endurance gone the second her pussy clenched for him, and Ivan moaned her name on a breath, careful not to put his full weight on his wife as she arched beneath him. Even strong as she was, he'd crush her.

"More," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Ivan. Please," she begged, and the plea sent a thrill through him, igniting something primal in his blood.

He grunted, hips knocking hers on every quickened thrust—the tension built between them, and he reached down to grip her wrists, pinning them gently to the mattress. Her eyes widened, a moan spilling from her lips as he picked up his pace until she gasped, her body arching and squirming beneath his.

"Is this what you need, little bear? To be mine?" he asked, breathless, matching his thrusts to her eager cries. Bending to suck on her nipple, he heard her breath hitch a second before she let out a sharp squeal.

"Yes!" she sobbed, her legs clinging to his hips as he bore down on her. "Please!" Her whole body jerked as she shattered around him, moaning his name. Ivan hissed out a breath, pressing into her deeply as ecstasy spiraled through him.

***

They fell asleep sometime after the third or fourth round, and Ivan could've stayed in bed forever—probably would've too if his brother hadn't knocked on his front door.

"Ivan?" Adrian called, not nearly soft enough. Ivan glared into the darkness, carefully untangling himself from Amy and grabbing a pair of sweats. He was quiet, happy to see her asleep.

"What are you doing?" he muttered, meeting his brother in the kitchen. Adrian glanced at him in disgust.

"You left your fucking gun on the counter, moron. What are you doing?"

Shit. Ivan grabbed it, cursing his carelessness as he avoided the tub of melted ice cream. "Amy's asleep. You better not fucking wake her up."

Rolling his eyes, Adrian pulled his phone from his pocket. "I called, but you didn't answer. By the look of things, you were busy."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Kostya called. We need to get to Cloud 9," Adrian muttered, seeming distracted by something on his phone. Ivan frowned.

"Something happen?"

"Not yet."

Fingers running through his hair, he nodded. "Is the building secure?"

Adrian grunted his confirmation. "I've got men monitoring the lobby."

He didn't like that, Ivan frowned and his brother rolled his eyes. "Ilya's playing poker with a couple more in my apartment. The doors open."

That sounded better, Ivan let out a breath as he moved toward the stairs to get dressed. Amy would be safe in his apartment. She had to be. "I'll be down in five minutes."

Adrian didn't answer, but even if he had, Ivan wouldn't have heard. He jogged up the stairs, double-checking if Amy slept before grabbing a suit and shoes. It took him three minutes, and then Ivan was leaving the apartment, hearing the front door click shut behind him.

Five of Adrian's best sat at the table in his apartment, playing a game of poker with the door open so that they could watch the comings and goings. Ilya met his eyes with a smile, and he tipped his head in greeting toward them as they passed on the way to the elevator.

Another minute later, the doors opened to the underground parking. Ivan strode toward the silver Camaro waiting between his Lambo and Amy's dented hatchback. The only ones with access to this parking lot were the Bratva, and it showed. Bulletproof SUVs waited next to sleek sports cars and his bikes. It was a car thief's wet dream. Ivan would know.

---