Page 82 of Stolen By The Bratva King

He’s so big, so hard, and there’s no respite—his thrusts are all-or-nothing, moving fast, his whole weight behind his hips as he pounds me.

“I’ll never get tired of fucking you,” he snarls. “Jesus Christ, this pussy is unreal.Youare unreal,val’kiriya.”

He tugs my hair harder and speeds up. “This is gonna hurt later, I promise you that. I must love you to fuck you this way.”

Oh God.Helovesme.

It’s not a feeling I ever want to get used to. I hope I feel this heart-stopping joy every time he says it from now until the end of our days.

My pussy is going crazing, twitching and rippling, the nerves alight with pleasure. I’m not surprised to feel another climax brewing in my abdomen; I’ve barely recovered from the last one, and my body is primed, ready for more.

“You’re gonna make me come,” I manage.

Leon slows down, each thrust emphasizing an individual word.

“I—don’t—care. Come—or—don’t, but—I’m—not—waiting—for—you!”

By the feel of him, it won’t be long; his cock is swelling inside me, stretching me to the limit. He lets loose an animal snarl and finds another gear, slamming me like a man possessed.

“Dammit, come!” he says, letting go of my wrist. “I lied—Idocare, and I can’t leave you hanging. Touch your clit and come with me!”

The lightest brush of my fingertips is enough. My scream of release rings off the walls, and Leon presses my body against the cool tiles.

“Ya obozhayu tvoyu rasputnuyu pizda,” he says, grinding deep inside me as he unloads pump after pump of thick come into my aching pussy. “I love your slutty pussy.”

“Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty in Russian,” I say, going limp in his grasp. “Now I have to get clean all over again.”

“No way.” Leon reaches past me and shuts off the water. “You are not allowed to wash my come away ever, Emery. Wherever you go and whatever you do, you’re taking part of me with you.”

43

Leon

My phone wakes me. I fell asleep without even checking the fucking thing because I was too wrung out.

All I wanted was to tangle my limbs up with my wife’s and stay in this bubble a little longer.

It wasn’t to be. The insistent buzzing heralds some nasty shit; that much is inevitable. It’s dark outside now, and that’s when all the scum comes out to play.

I take my cell into the lounge to answer it. “Jesus, Viktor,” I say. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“All that matters now is where I am,” he replies. “So let me in.”

“You’re here now?” I cast around for something to wear, grabbing some sweatpants from the clean laundry stack in the kitchen. “Why?”

“Leon,tovarishch. Trust me when I say I wouldn’t have shown up out of the blue unless it was necessary. Let us in, it’s raining.”

“Us, you said this time?”

“Leon!” It’s Roman, his voice too loud through the speaker. “Buzz us in now. We got shit to do.”

I groan and cross the floor to the intercom. They are on the CCTV screen, larger than life—Viktor, Roman, and a few others I know, all dressed in black.

“All right, Jeez.” I press the buzzer and hang up.

“What’s going on?”

I turn to see a bleary-eyed Emery wearing my shirt and nothing else. She looks adorable, and I feel a pull in my chest.

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