Page 50 of The Bratva's Prisoner Bride

With sincerity in his features, amplified by his tipsy state, Ivan mirrored my expression. “Even if it’s just the start, it looks great. You really are talented.”

The compliment made my heart stir while I held his gaze. “It helps that I have such a captivating muse.”

He huffed out a breath at that while I put the canvas away again. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s muse before.”

“At least now that’s not the case anymore.”

“I suppose you’re right…”

Seeing him stand there in the moonlight with his clothes and hair disheveled, I couldn’t help myself. Gravitating closer, I cut some of the space between us and reached for the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one by one. “Although, I wouldn’t mind using my muse as a canvas…I think you’d make a great one.”

Ivan cocked a brow at me, yet allowed it, helping me shuffle the shirt off him until he was standing there in only his dark slacks. “You certainly won’t hear me complaining.”

Both amused and enticed by the prospect, I grabbed a nearby brush that still held traces of paint on it and brought it up to his chest.

Our eyes met and remained locked all the while I pressed the slick bristles against his skin and slowly traced along with a tantalizing speed.

Ivan shivered at once, letting his eyes flutter shut while he allowed himself to soak in the sensations. Goosebumps prickled along his body, and his breath hitched faintly, letting me know just how greatly it was affecting him already.

Encouraged, I continued, completely captivated by how responsive he was.

I moved the brush down his best, between his chiseled pecs and deliberately towards his abs. The hard muscles flexed and trembled at the tickling sensation of the brush, and I didn’t miss the sharp inhale he pulled in.

Affected by the teasing gesture, Ivan forced out a breath and tipped his head back with his brows pinched together. His whole body was coiled up tight, trying his hardest to resist giving in to the feeling.

Enticed by how gorgeously helpless he looked, feeling in charge for once, I hummed and lowered the brush until a dark streak of paint reached just above his waistband.

Ivan groaned faintly to himself. “You’re killing me, you know…”

Those gruff words sent a rush of sensations right to my core, and I looked back up at him, finding him staring down at me again.

The moment our eyes locked, something shifted in me, and I suddenly didn’t care about turning him into my living, breathing art anymore.

I needed him, and given the way he looked back at me, I knew the same thing was true for him.

Dropping the brush, I cut the space between us at the same time Ivan moved in, and our lips collided, making us both moan into it.

The next few minutes were a complete haze of limbs, of grabbing and pulling, undoing zippers, and yanking fabric off until we were both bare and clumsily collapsing onto the sofa in the back of the room.

Our lips were almost magnetized together while Ivan gripped my hips and pulled me onto his lap to straddle him.His arms braced my back to hold me tightly against him, palms mapping every inch of me.

With frantic breaths and a deep-seated need coursing between us, I felt greedier than I ever had before while I leaned into him and devoured his mouth with my own, feeling the coolness of paint smearing between our stomachs and not caring enough to stop.

His arousal was heavy between my legs while I slid against him, making us both keen and moan for more.

Nothing else mattered while I made those slow rolls of my hips, feeling far too worked up to wait another moment. I could feel Ivan falling apart beneath me, showing a rare moment of surrender that sent a thrill down my spine.

With raw desire clouding my mind, I blindly reached for his cock, noting how it pulled a sharp breath from his lips while his body tensed against the cushions beneath him. Unable to wait another minute, I guided him until I could feel his need pressing into me.

I shuddered from the sensation, anticipating that delicious stretch again.

With hands on his shoulders to brace myself, I looked down to watch the way Ivan’s softened expression, captivated by the heat of the moment, deepened even further the moment I sank onto him slowly. His eyes closed as a ragged breath slipped from between his kiss-swollen lips, and he slumped at the rush of sensations exchanged between the two of us.

My breath hitched at the overwhelming feeling of being parted by him, and my grip on him tightened while I took inch by addictive inch.

Ivan groaned and dropped his head against the back of the couch, seemingly taking a lot of restraint to keep himself from cracking too soon.

There was something so brutally satisfying about seeing him like that, completely at my mercy, while I moved my hips above him, sliding up and down his begging length. Whether it was his compliance or how he seemed just as eager as I felt, it didn’t matter.

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