Page 87 of Ruthless Bratva King

One hand moves to my hip, holding me in place, while the other slips between us, his fingers circling me, teasing me, before pushing inside.

I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as he works me with his fingers and tongue, each stroke building the pressure inside me until I’m teetering on the edge.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough with need. I force my eyes open, turning to meet his gaze. The intensity is almost too much, but I can’t look away.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and that’s all it takes.

My body shatters, pleasure crashing over me in waves as my climax hits me.

He doesn’t stop, not even when I squirm, not even when I beg him to. He keeps going, drawing out every last drop of my orgasm.

He stands, his hands moving to his belt, and I watch, transfixed, as he undoes it, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss.

His pants follow, dropping to the floor, and then he’s stepping forward, lifting me off the sink and turning me around so my back is to him.

My reflection stares back at me, flushed and disheveled, as he pushes me forward, bending me over the sink.

His hand slides up my back, pushing my dress out of the way before landing on my ass with a sharp smack. The sting makes me gasp, but it’s quickly followed by a rush of heat, pooling low in my stomach.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his voice dripping with lust. “Spread for me.” His fingers dig into my hips as he positions himself, and then he’s pushing inside me, inch by torturous inch, until I’m full of him.

I bite my lip to stifle a moan, but it’s no use. He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving me closer to the edge again.

His grip tightens on my hips, pulling me back to meet him, and I can hear the slap of skin on skin, feel the way his breathing grows ragged as he loses himself in me.

“Look at yourself,” he growls, catching my chin and forcing me to meet my own gaze in the mirror. “See how good you take me? How perfect we are together?”

I do as he says, unable to tear my eyes away from the image of us, of him buried deep inside me, his expression fierce and hungry.

It’s too much, and I feel myself spiraling again, the pressure building until it breaks, sending me plunging into another orgasm so intense it steals the breath from my lungs.

He follows me over the edge, his movements becoming erratic as he comes inside me with a low groan, his body shuddering against mine.

For a moment, we stay like that, connected, both of us trying to catch our breath. Then he presses a soft kiss to the nape of my neck, his hands gentling as he helps me straighten up.

A soft knock at the door startles us, followed by a muffled, “Everything all right in there?”

Dmitri smirks, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “Perfect,” he calls back, his voice steady and composed. “Couldn’t be better.”

EPILOGUE

VERONICA

Two Months Later…

The early morning sunlight filters through the skyscrapers, casting long shadows on the bustling city streets. The sleek, glass-paneled building in front of me is my destination and I’m excited.

I’ve been dreaming of this moment—not just this interview, but what it could mean for my future.

One step closer to the life I’ve been trying to piece together. One step closer to stability. Elena has hers. I’d quite like mine.

Shame I had to give Vladimir his black card back in the end but no good thing lasts forever.

I didn’t spendthatmuch mob money. Could have bought my dream bookstore and spent the rest of my days surrounded by books. Hell, maybe I gave the card back too soon. Now I’ve got to get back into the job hunting grind.

At the moment, it’s one dead end after another. Maybe this will be the gig that changes everything and puts my dumpster-fire life into some kind of order.

As I approach the revolving doors, I catch my reflection in the polished glass: tailored blazer, neatly pressed slacks, and hair pulled back into a sleek bun. Professional, composed.

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