Page 32 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

I tried to stop myself, to restrain myself from touching him, but I couldn't. My hands trembled, my heart pounding like a drum as I dared to gently set my palm on his broad torso. His skin was a canvas of rugged experience etched with scars and cut marks that seemed to tell the stories of the battles he'd faced and overcome.

My manicured fingers slowly, with cautious moves, traced the defined ridges of his abs. I took in the sight of his scars, noting some as bullet wounds and the others as knife cuts.

Each of those scars appeared to have cut deep into his flesh. Although they were healed—mere reminders of a life lived on the edge—I could only imagine the pain he had to endure for each one.

Slowly, my palm traversed his body, my eyes taking notes of the slightest details of his skin. I knew that I was being creepy, caressing a man in his sleep without his consent. But I couldn't help it.

How could someone so cruel look so harmless and gorgeous at the same time?

My gaze drifted down to his groin, and my eyes widened slightly at the sight of his erection. I watched his cock swell in his pants, and then it hit me—the realization that he might be aware of my actions.

That instant, my gaze flew back to his face, and my breath lodged in my throat as I pulled away from him. I'd met his eyes, and he was wearing a smug, self-satisfied smirk.

It turned out that he'd been awake this entire time, and while I was busy being such a perv, he was watching me. The grin on his face was a clear indication that he enjoyed the feeling of my hand all over his body. But that didn't make it any less embarrassing, especially because I'd been the one avoiding intimacy with him.

“Why'd you stop?” he asked, his voice deep and husky.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…” I stuttered, avoiding his eyes.

As I tried to back away, he grasped my hand, and in an instant, I found myself underneath him, his face mere inches from mine. His breath was warm against my skin, his green eyes piercing into my own. Erik's powerful arms held me down, restraining my hands. His grip was gentle yet firm enough to keep me secured.

I loved it, the inability to use my hands, the feeling of surrendering to his mercy. My chest rose and fell from all that tension coursing through me. The intensity of the passion flickering in Erik's gaze sent tremors down my core and a tingling sensation between my legs.

His lips, soft and succulent, grazed against mine, the slight touch awakening my desire, the flame burning with an intensity I couldn't comprehend.

“You know I can only hold back so long if you keep doing this,” he said, his husky whisper sending shivers down my spine.

I stared into his eyes, my chest heaving slowly as I struggled to fight against this sweet temptation. But why torture us both? He wanted me, and I wanted him. Plus, he was my husband, and he'd been patient enough already.

Screw this. We were doing it tonight.

“Then don't,” I said without breaking eye contact, my voice a low, sexy whisper. “Don't hold back anymore.”

His eyes narrowed as if studying me or, better yet, drinking in the expression of my arousal. He leaned closer, his lips on mine, grazing and teasing me. He freed up one of my hands, his thumb flying to trace the curve of my mouth.

I lay beneath him, feeling his erection against my thigh, my body trembling from his touch, possessive yet tender. He gently pushed his thumb into my mouth, and I sucked on it, still holding his gaze.

The feeling was erotic, sending sparks of electricity through me and leaving me breathless. My back arched slightly as his fingers left my face and traveled down my bosom. This tension, this anticipation that seemed to be building by the second, was so overwhelming that it had me surrendering completely.

My hands settled on his body, caressing their way to the back of his head to press him close enough to claim those lips.

While he squeezed my voluptuous curves, his lips devoured mine with a slow, sensual fervency that eased my tension and anxiety. He slid his tongue into my mouth, our heads tilting together in harmony, driven by our longing for each other.

He kissed me with so much passion, and I could literally feel the connection between us growing stronger. His hand—his palm—was relentless on my breast while the other still had mine pinned down above my head. He squeezed, he fondled, and he pinched my nipples over the fabric of my nightgown.

Erik broke the kiss and gazed upon my face before me on the neck, then down to my chest, where his fingers delicately tugged down a strap of dress, one at a time. My chest heaved all the process, my heart hammering in anticipation. This would bethe first time someone was seeing my breasts, and that made me so nervous.

Would he like them? Would he be disappointed?

Erik was a man twice my age, meaning that he must have had a lot of women in his lifetime—giving him a high body count and a lot of experience. Would my body suffice, considering the women he'd had sex with over the years?

As the fabric unveiled the breasts underneath, his lips curled into a smile that eased my anxiety.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his eyes drinking in the sight of my moderately sized breasts.

That was refreshing.

I mirrored his gesture and let out a soft purr the moment his lips and his tongue claimed my hard nipple. “Fuck…” I murmured, a shiver coursing through me.

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