Page 17 of Married to the Bratva

“Yes,” he agrees, his lips brushing against my jaw, sending a shiver down my spine. “It is.”

But neither of us stops.

Without another word, he leans in, and our lips meet.

It’s like an explosion in my chest, a rush of heat that spreads through my veins like wildfire. His kiss is intense, possessive, and it takes my breath away.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, far better than any kiss I’ve ever had from anyone. My knees threaten to buckle, but he holds me steady, his hands gripping my waist firmly.

His tongue slides against mine, and I moan softly into his mouth, completely lost in the sensation.

My hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his suit jacket as I pull him closer. The silk of his tie brushes against my cheek, and I nuzzle into it, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him.

When we finally break apart, I gasp for air, my chest heaving as I try to calm the riot of emotions inside me.

His eyes bore into mine, intense and unflinching, and I can see the raw desire there, mingled with something darker, something more dangerous.

"Take off your dress," he commands, his voice rougher now, edged with urgency. “And never wear it again. Your old life ends now.”

I hesitate for only a moment before getting to my feet, my fingers trembling as they work at the buttons of my wedding dress.

He watches me intently, his gaze never wavering, as I fumble with the fabric.

The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my soaked underwear. My nipples are hard, pressing against the thin material, and I can feel the wetness between my legs.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against the strap of my lacy bra, making me shiver. Then, with one swift motion, he tugs it down, exposing my breasts to the cool air.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice gruff, as his eyes rake over my body.

Without warning, he dips his head, his mouth closing around one of my nipples. The sensation is electrifying, a jolt of pleasure that shoots straight to my core. I arch my back, pushing myself further into his mouth, desperate for more.

His tongue lavishes attention on my nipple, flicking and teasing, while his hand moves lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties.

His fingers find their target immediately, sliding through my wet folds, probing gently. I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily as he strokes me, his touch both gentle and firm. He knows exactly what I need, and he gives it to me without hesitation.

"Fuck," I whisper, my voice breathless, as he continues to work me with his fingers. "Don’t stop."

He doesn’t. Instead, he increases the pressure, his thumb rubbing against my clit in a maddening rhythm. My legs tremble, and I grip his shoulders tighter, afraid I might fall if he lets go.

The pleasure builds and builds, a tidal wave that’s about to crash over me.

"That’s it," he growls, his voice vibrating against my skin. "Let go for me, Sophie."

And I do. I can’t hold back any longer. With a cry, I climax, my body convulsing as waves of ecstasy wash over me.

13

SOPHIE

As I come back down to earth, I become aware of Maxim’s gaze once more, burning into me with equal parts possession and desire.

He pulls back, trailing soft kisses along my collarbone, and I watch him, my breath still coming in short pants.

"Your turn," I manage to say, my voice weak with exhaustion. “Get undressed.”

“Men have died for attempting to give me orders,” he replies as he shrugs his suit jacket off, tossing it to the floor. Then, with deliberate slowness, he begins to undress, peeling away the layers of his clothing one by one.

I drink in the sight of him, memorizing every inch of his powerful form, from the broad expanse of his chest to the hard planes of his abs, down to the bulge in his pants.

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