Page 96 of Captive Virgin of the Bratva

“Kolya,” she pants, voice shaky, legs trembling around me. “Don’t stop—please—”

“I won’t,” I growl. My rhythm turns punishing, the tension building between us fast and hot. Her eyes flutter, mouth parting with every thrust. I lean in, biting down on the soft curve of her shoulder, then kiss it as she whimpers, her body clenching so tight I almost lose it.

“Come for me,” I whisper against her skin. “Let me feel it.”

She shatters beneath me.

It’s not quiet. She moans loud, body convulsing as she clings to me, hips jerking, and the way her pussy clamps around me—fuck, I can’t hold on. I bury myself deep, every muscle locked tight as I come with a groan, grinding into her, filling her until I’m empty and boneless.

I don’t move right away. I can’t. My arms shake with the effort of holding myself up. Her breath is hot against my throat, her fingers stroking my back in slow, lazy lines. I rest my forehead to hers, eyes closed, still inside her.

For a man who’s done terrible things, this—she—feels like redemption.

After, I don’t move for a long time.

Her body is still wrapped around mine, warm and pliant beneath the tangled sheets. Her breathing slowly begins to even out, chest rising and falling in quiet waves. Her thigh rests across mine, one hand still pressed flat against my chest like she needs to feel the beat of my heart to believe any of this was real.

Maybe I need it too.

I shift just enough to ease her closer, and she makes a soft noise—half content, half exhausted. The kind of sound that lodges itself deep in my ribs and refuses to leave.

I press a kiss to her bare shoulder, slow and reverent. My lips linger against her skin.

She doesn’t flinch this time, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers tighten slightly, curling into my chest.

“Still alive?” I murmur, voice rough with the last of my restraint.

She huffs, almost a laugh. “Barely.”

I smile into her skin. “Good. I didn’t want to break you… just bend you a little.”

That earns me a slow roll of her eyes when she turns her head. Her hair is a mess across the pillow, her lips still kiss-bruised, cheeks flushed. She looks undone. Gorgeous. Mine.

“Elise,” I say quietly, more serious now.

She blinks up at me.

“You okay?”

She nods. Hesitates. Then nods again. “Yeah.”

I brush my fingers through the loose strands of hair near her temple, tucking them behind her ear.

“You didn’t have to be gentle,” she says after a moment, voice barely above a whisper. “Not with me.”

My chest tightens. “I wanted to be.”

That startles her, just a little. Her brows knit together as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

I shift again, drawing the sheet higher over her. Then I lean down and kiss the side of her throat. Light. Barely there.

“You think all I want is to own you,” I say quietly, lips brushing her skin, “but that’s not the worst of it.”

Her voice is hoarse. “What’s the worst of it, then?”

I pause. “That I don’t know how to want anything else now that I’ve had you.”

She exhales—slow, shaky, like her heart just stumbled.

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