Page 68 of Ruthless Bratva King

Fear crawls under my skin as I wait for him to come back from his meeting. Memories of my family come back to me. I wonder again if they’re still alive.

I let Dmitri in. I let him make me feel safe, even though I know better. Because no one stays. And no one is safe—not in his world, not in mine. I get the feeling he’s gone for good.

Of course. That’s what I deserve. I got attached. That was dumb. I saw it in his eyes before he left this morning. Pain. He wants to tell me it’s over but can’t bring himself to do it.

The sound of the door opening snaps me out of my thoughts. My heart leaps, the relief almost overwhelming. I’m off the couch and halfway across the room before I can stop myself.

Dmitri steps through the door, his presence filling the space. His dark eyes sweep over me, sharp and unreadable. Something is different. His shoulders are stiff, his movements deliberate, as though he’s carrying an invisible weight.

“You’re back late,” I whisper, my voice betraying the relief I can’t hide. “Where have you been?”

“Work,” he says, his voice low, almost hollow. He shrugs off his coat.

I reach for him before I can think better of it, wrapping my arms around his neck. For a moment, he doesn’t move.

Then his arms circle me, pulling me flush against his chest. The tension in his muscles bleeds into me, but I don’t care. He’s here.

His mouth presses against mine. I respond instinctively, clinging to him as if holding tighter might stop the storm I sense brewing inside him.

His hands tangle in my hair, his body pressing me back against the wall.

There’s an intensity in his touch, more raw and desperate than usual. It’s as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of me, to imprint this moment into his memory. It doesn’t feel like a reunion. It feels like a goodbye.

“Dmitri…” I murmur between kisses, trying to pull back enough to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer. His lips find my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. I gasp, my hands tightening in his hair.

“Don’t ask any questions,” he says, his voice a rough whisper. “Not now.”

I want to argue, to demand the truth, but the way he’s touching me unravels my resolve. I let him lead me to the bedroom, let him strip away my doubts with every kiss.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his gaze raking over my body. “My beautiful wife.”

His hand reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against my jawline, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. The intensity in them makes my heart race.

“Do you know what I want from you?” he asks, his voice seductive.

I nod slightly, already feeling the familiar heat pooling between my thighs. “Anything, Dmitri. Tell me”

“Show me how much you crave me,moya lisitsa. Touch yourself for me.”

A rush of warmth floods my cheeks, but I don’t hesitate. I reach down, my fingers trembling slightly as they slide beneath the hem of my dress, finding the slickness waiting for me.

His eyes never leave mine as I begin to stroke myself, slow and deliberate, moaning softly as I lose myself in the sensations.

He watches me like a man possessed, his lips curving into a predatory smile. “Good girl,” he purrs, stepping back to stand at the end of the bed. “But don’t stop. Let me see all of you.”

I spread my legs, my eyes fixed on him as he watches me.

“That’s it,” he growls, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “Show me how much you need me, Elena.”

I whimper, my fingers working faster as I approach the edge, but then he speaks again, halting me mid-motion.

“Not yet,” he commands, standing and closing the distance between us in two strides. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

I bite my lip, nodding as I pull my hand away, my body trembling with desire. He cups my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his gaze unwavering.

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