Page 62 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

“Rafa…”I moaned, and he sucked on my neck, biting his way up to my ear.

It felt like I was giving, but I wasn’t giving enough. I rolled my hips and clawed at every part of him I laid my hands on. I wished he had taken off his clothes. But I knew the decision was punishment. And I took it.

His name spilled out from my lips faster than I revved my engines.

“Fuck, Leo. This was not the fucking plan!”

Aggressively, he slapped my ass cheeks and squeezed, burying his face between my neck when I practically begged him to fuck me faster instead of raining curses on him like I wanted to.

The bookshelf clattered behind us, the wood scraping hard against the floor. The books clamored, the pages rustling as they dropped to the ground.

Sweat soaked us up, but he kissed me as if I tasted like apples. And I kissed him because he tasted like intoxicating wine. When he bucked faster, I matched his grunts and squeezed my legs tighter around his waist to keep him steady.

“This was not the fucking plan,” he thundered again, more to himself than to me. “But you’re here now, and you’re fucking mine. You belong to me, Leo. Your tits, your fucking pussy, this body—they’re mine and no one else’s. And I’ll fuck you whenever I bloody want. Do you fucking understand?”

I wanted to scream at him, tell him I belonged to no one, but the scream was strangled with chaotic moans when I came all over him again.

Growling, he covered my mouth with his and jerked, spilling his hot load inside me with a deep, guttural groan.

We stayed like that, neither of us pulling away, and I wasn’t sure when it happened, but I fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat racing against my chest.

Chapter 19 – Rafayel

When Leonora had said her father was sick, I didn’t expect the results to literally be close to the grave. He was sick as fuck. No wonder he needed his daughter to run things.

Enzo’s eyes were tired and dull, and the hazel in them was not as vibrant. Olive skin was now pale ash with wrinkles, making him look years older than he was, and the vigorous and brutal feared man I’d clashed with once was nothing but a shell now.

But dealing with his daughter taught me not to underestimate anyone, not even a walking corpse.

His lapdog, Marco, pinned sharp eyes on me while he wheeled Enzo’s chair around the table and stood by his side. Marco didn’t trust me; Enzo sure as hell didn’t either. I might have as well brought them into the open as an easy target for a gunman. But that was not why we were here.

Enzo started speaking but stopped short when he began coughing and wheezing like an off-tune bagpipe. It was harsh and disastrous. Half-heartedly, I expected the old man to slump like a sack of potatoes.

Marco handed him a glass of water and leaned back, massaging the tattoo on his neck. Judging by the frown on his face, I knew we were thinking the same thing.

“I got your invite,” Enzo resumed hoarsely. “But I don’t understand the reason for my presence here.”

“I didn’t understand why either when I got mine. Until she walked through those same doors you wheeled through with a proposal for an alliance.”

Enzo’s dull eyes flickered with confusion, and I opened my arms, gesturing with a plastic smile. “Welcome toBella Italia,Enzo Colombo. The place where you officially launchedthe plan to fuck and screw me over. I know about your plan with Rossi. Clever. Could’ve almost fooled me.”

He grunted something Italian under his breath and dragged his hands down his face. “Now you have a heart? You fucking care about being fucked and screwed over? Quit the bullshit, Yezhov. This is the cycle: fucking kill or be killed. And we both know I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.”

“And that, I’m well accustomed to. But you’re a fucking snake for taking the route you did. And I deal with snakes the way they ought to be dealt with.”

Marco’s brows drew closer, and I saw his hand hover over his belt.

“Don’t even think about it, spokesman. Before you lift a finger, you’d have bullets feeding your brain.”

I faced Enzo. Kudos to the man for not being phased in the slightest. “I didn’t invite you here to grieve. As a matter of fact, I have an announcement to make: Leonora will be staying with me now.”

Enzo’s eyes flashed with anger after he tried to put the pieces together. “Did you fucking kidnap my daughter?”

“Hmm, let me see.” I played with the Cartier on my wrist, then looked up. “I might have. Or I might have just fucking killed her when I had the chanceifI didn’t find out that your daughter is about to become the mother of my child. So, no, I didn’t fucking kidnap your daughter. Ifuckedher.”

My triumphant smile was enough to make Enzo run mad if he didn’t get a grip. His silence spoke volumes, and I almost laughed at the absurdity when his nose scrunched and chin wobbled. The great Italian Don, the man who could strike fear into anyone with a glance, sat there as if the life had been knocked out of him.

Nothing could be worse for the old man than hearing the news of his Italian daughter getting screwed and knocked up bya Russian—specifically, by me. The man’s hate for me ran deeper than the bloodlines he swore to destroy.

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