Page 63 of Forced Bratva Hostage

The faster she moved, the more her breast swayed tantalizingly. Wren let out a pleasured cry, and her body stiffened for a moment, her face contorted in ecstasy.

I grabbed her hips, plunging faster from underneath her, reveling in her purrs of delight. Her body trembled, and her screams grew louder, but I wouldn't stop fucking her hard.

I could feel the thrill of climax, yet even that didn't slow me down. Instead, it pushed me to thrust faster and more vigorously in the last few seconds. A primal growl signaled my arrival, and with an even deeper groan, I shot my load, filling her pussy with my essence.

She moaned, her body trembling as she accepted every drop, her mouth open in a silent scream.

My legs quivered, and my waist pushed upward, seeking a deeper connection, until all of me was inside her.

Spent, we both exhaled sharply, her body collapsing on mine with heavy breaths.

Never had I been so drawn to one woman before. Maybe I was obsessed with her, considering how I couldn't get enough of her.

We'd still go multiple more rounds before the night would end, but for now, I'd let her catch her breath and rest for a while before claiming every inch of her body again.

Chapter 22 – Wren

It had been eight months already, and by now, my baby bump was quite glaring, as was the attitude and unnecessary outbursts that came with it.

EvenIwouldn’t want to cope with me if I were my husband, but he understood the situation, and no matter how unbearable I was—I was really unbearable—he wouldn't snap at me. Afan would just smile, pull me to himself, and kiss my forehead.

Whenever he did that, the feeling of his lips on my skin was always comforting, soothing my pain. He'd done an awesome job at putting up with the attitude attached to my pregnancy.

More often than not, I'd overreact to stuff that, usually, I would sweep under the rug, like that one time when he made a harmless statement. Under a different circumstance, I would have just laughed, but for some reason, I hadn’t found it funny at all.

I sat on the bed, my back leaning against the frame as I watched a few baby prep videos on TV. He was supposed to be watching with me because that was what the baby wanted, but he kept falling asleep every now and then.

So, in order to keep him awake, I requested a foot massage, and while he was at it, I paid rapt attention to the video I was watching.

This was at three o'clock in the morning.

In the last three minutes, his massage had been sloppy, like he was losing his grip, and I didn't like his sudden slowness. I was enjoying the feeling of his thumb pushing into my feet. He was good at this, his movements fluid and remarkable, easing me of my stress and anxiety.

Now, he was starting to get sloppy, and although, deep down, I knew my annoyance was selfish, I just couldn't help it.

Afanasy yawned, stretching and groaning slightly. “God, I'm exhausted,” he whispered under his breath.

My brows arched at his statement. “What?” I questioned, my tone stern and serious.

“Oh, I just said that I was exhausted,” he replied innocently, unaware of the scowl on my face.

I pulled my legs back as he tried to resume, my gaze fixed on him. He jerked his head up, squinting at my impulsive reaction, wonder flickering in his eyes.

“You're exhausted?” I asked, tilting my head sideways. A pang of irritation went through me at his harmless words.

This was a trap, and it didn't matter whether he recognized it or not; I was going to make mountains out of this molehill.

He let out a soft sigh, rubbing his eyes. “That's…that's…that's not what I meant,” he said quietly, stuttering.

“Then what did you mean?” I questioned, my scowl deepening.

He looked at me, speechless, like he knew I was about to twist whatever he would say, and I could see the exhaustion in his bloodshot eyes, with dark circles underneath.

He lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It's 3:00 A.M., Wren. Can we not do this now?” His eyelids drooped, weighed down by fatigue.

I squinted, folding my arms across my chest. “So, that's what I am now? A troublemaker who forces you to watch endless baby preps with her at 3:00 A.M. and then asks you to massage her feet. Is that what you're trying to say?”

“Oh, my God!” he muttered, exasperated, rubbing his eyes

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