Page 44 of Ruthless Bratva King

His gaze locks onto mine, holding me captive in its intensity. “The shadow even monsters fear.”

A shiver runs through me, not of fear, but of something deeper. The words seem to pulse with life, with a dark truth about the man standing before me.

“Is that what you are?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

His lips curl into a faint, almost bitter smile. “It’s what they believe. And sometimes, Elena, belief is all that matters.”

I let my fingers trace the letters, feeling the hardness of his chest beneath them, the steadiness of his heart. “But you’re not just that,” I say softly, meeting his eyes. “Not to me.”

His expression softens, just a fraction, and he covers my hand with his own. “No,” he murmurs. “Not to you. Never to you.”

For a fleeting second, something raw and vulnerable flickers in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

He steps closer, his heat enveloping me, and his voice dips low, a promise and a warning all at once.

“And this?” I ask, tracing a crow perched on a branch near his collarbone.

“Death and wisdom,” he says, his voice quieter now. “In our world, it watches from above, always present.”

My breath catches as his words sink in. He shifts my hand lower, toward a coiled snake inked on his ribcage, its fangs bared and ready to strike.

I let my fingers linger there for a moment, feeling the unyielding strength beneath his skin. His hand moves mine again, this time to an intricate design on his forearm—a black bear standing on its hind legs, roaring.

“Power,” he says simply. “Strength and resilience. It’s not about being the biggest or the loudest. It’s about enduring. Standing your ground, no matter what.”

“And this one?” I ask as I point to a stark star on his shoulder, its lines precise and sharp.

“That’s the mark of a leader,” he says, his tone steady. “In our world, the stars mean rank, respect, and responsibility. But they’re also a target. A reminder that power comes with a price.”

The intensity in his gaze makes my heart stutter. He’s baring himself to me, not just his body but his soul, and it leaves me breathless.

Then he steps back, his hands moving to the waistband of his pants. He unbuttons them, sliding them down along with his boxers. My breath catches as his body is revealed fully to me, raw and unrestrained.

My eyes widen, taking in the sheer power of him—hard, unyielding, and unapologetically erect.

His body is awe inspiring, his cock standing proud between us, and I can’t tear my eyes away. The sight of him, raw and unguarded, steals every coherent thought from my mind.

He steps closer, the air between us thick with anticipation. Slowly, he takes my hand, his grip firm yet gentle, like he’s afraid I might vanish if he moves too quickly.

He guides me to the bed, his touch igniting sparks along my skin. The soft sheets cradle me as he lays me down.

His hands start their journey, gliding over my shoulders, down my arms, and across my trembling stomach.

Each touch is electric, a slow, deliberate exploration that leaves me breathless. His fingers brush against the curve of my hip, trailing down to my thighs, teasing and igniting fires wherever they linger.

His gaze follows his hands, dark and intent, as if he’s committing every inch of me to memory.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers through me.

I’m trembling beneath him, my chest rising and falling as I try to steady my breathing. When his hands finally settle between my legs, I feel my heart race faster than ever.

He spreads me wide, his movements confident and assured, his eyes fixed on the most intimate part of me with an intensity that leaves me blushing and exposed.

“Beg,” he murmurs, his voice velvety but commanding, the word rolling over me like a challenge.

His breath is hot against my core, light as a whisper, sending jolts of pleasure racing through me. My body reacts instinctively, arching toward his touch, desperate for more.

“Please,” I whisper, barely audible, my voice trembling with need.

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