Page 67 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

I’d barely even touched her, but my balls were already hanging heavy in my boxer briefs. I wasn’t sure how slow I was willing to go tonight.

Leonora lay back on the bed, gluing her eyes to the ceiling while I pressed the lotion onto my palm. I started from her feet, rubbing her heels and gently massaging all the way up to her ankles. She hmmed. I knew they were sore from all the moves she’d made on the floor.

“Rafa?”

Blood thrummed in my ears, my cock grew between my legs, and I wasn’t sure whose heavy breathing filled the silence in the room.

“Yeah?”

“Why do people call youZver?”

I laughed, swearing under my breath. The memories were still as fresh. “I ripped a man’s throat out once. And another time, I fed a man his dick. Both happened years ago.”

She shuddered, and I expected her to question it, but she didn’t. “You did stand in the middle of a goddamn road to shoot at me once, so I believe you. The other two, what did they do?”

“Both were pedophiles. Both trafficked women, and one raped his twelve-year-old daughter.”

She gasped. “Who raped his daughter?” When I didn’t respond, she arranged the pieces and immediately knew the answer. “God. The one who had his dick fed to him.”

Silence.

“And the scar?” she continued.

I didn’t bother asking what scar. It wasn’t related to her previous question. The scar she pointed out was the one she kissed on my eyebrow. I gritted my teeth.

“My father,” was all I offered. And I appreciated it when she didn’t push.

Tonight was my wedding night. Not gather-around-the-fire-to-share night.

I continued in silence, rubbing her calves and stretching her skin under the pressure of my palms. She made too many noises. Many, many moans that made it hard to concentrate. But I focused, taking the cream up to her knees.

My head came up, positioned between her kneecaps. Her robe had risen high above her thighs, exposing soft flesh—a long stretch of olive skin and curvy hips. My mouth watered to taste her, cup my mouth over her pussy, and eat her out the way I’d desperately craved to since I watched her walk down that aisle.

“You didn’t dance with me,” I heard myself say.

She raised her head, holding my eyes above our baby bump. “What?”

“You danced with Mary, Varya, and Tikhon. But not with me.”

Leonora lifted her body, leaning back on her elbows. “I didn’t know you’d have loved to dance.”

“You didn’t ask.”

She snorted, a wry smile playing on her lips. “What world do you come from? The husband does the asking.”

“Doesn’t matter. I ought to punish you for that.”

Her smile grew wider. “And how do you intend to do that?”

“What do you suggest?”

The sound of her laughter left me needy and hungry. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold back from unleashing.

“In what world does an offender suggest his punishment?”

“In my world, Leonya,” I murmured.

Being this close to her was intoxicating, as always. I wasn’t getting used to it anytime soon. I bent my head, pressing a kiss on her thigh. Christ. She smelled even better up close. She fisted her fingers in my hair, and I supported her weight, snaking an arm around her back when she lay down.

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