Page 49 of Married to the Bratva

He doesn't waste a second. Positioning himself at my entrance, he pushes in slowly, deliberately, stretching me, filling me inch by agonizing inch.

I arch my back, my nails digging into his shoulders as he sinks deeper. The feeling of being full is intoxicating.

"Yes," I moan, my voice breaking. "God, yes, Maxim."

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and measured at first, a tease designed to drive me mad. But I can see the strain in his eyes, the raw need barely contained. I meet his gaze, challenging him.

"Faster," I demand, my voice cracking with urgency. "Harder, Maxim. Don't hold back."

He growls, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more desperate. The sound of our bodies colliding fills the room, a symphony of primal urges.

His hands move to my hips, holding me still as he plunges into me, his cock hitting all the right spots.

"So tight," he grunts, his breath hot against my ear. "You're mine, Sophie. All mine."

"Yours," I pant, my body trembling with the effort of keeping up with him. "Always yours."

He shifts his position slightly, his angle changing, and I cry out as he hits a spot that sends shocks of pleasure rippling through me.

His fingers find my clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation is too much, too intense, and I come apart beneath him, my orgasm tearing through me like a hurricane.

"Fuck, Sophie," he groans, his voice strained. "So good. So fucking good."

My inner walls clamp down on him, milking him, and he follows me over the edge, spilling himself deep inside me.

We collapse together, sweat-slicked and panting, our hearts beating in unison.

He rolls off me, lying beside me on the rug, his hand resting protectively on my stomach. I turn my head to look at him, my breathing still ragged.

“You’re good at cards,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “Better than I expected.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “And you’re full of surprises. I didn’t peg you as the type to indulge in strip poker.”

He turns slightly, his lips curving into that faint smirk. “I didn’t peg you as the type to agree.”

“You dared me,” I reply, meeting his gaze. “And I’m terrible at backing down from a challenge.”

“That much is clear.”

The smirk fades, replaced by something quieter. “That’s what gets most people killed in my world. Challenges. The inability to back down.”

I frown, watching him. There’s a gravity to his tone that pulls me in. “Is that why you’re still alive? Because you don’t take risks?”

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “No. I’m alive because I know which risks are worth taking.”

“And this?” I ask, gesturing between us. “Am I a risk?”

His eyes flick to me, and for a moment, they’re completely unguarded. “More than I’d like to admit.”

“Do you ever wish…” I hesitate, unsure if I’m crossing a line. “What if I was wrong about Dimitri? He told you I was the mole, didn’t he?”

He shakes his head, his expression hard but distant. “You were sure and I trust you. Time will tell if I made the right decision.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening, and for a moment, I think that’s the end of it. But then he speaks, his voice lower, weighted with something personal and painful.

“My father believed in people. It was his greatest strength and his greatest flaw. That’s why he let her in.”

I frown slightly. “Her?”

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