Page 32 of Savage Bratva King

“What do you want?” The question is barely audible above the blood pumping around my veins and into my cock.

I want all of her. I want to taste every inch of her. I want to hear her scream out my name when I ram my cock into her sex and then take her some more. But at the same time, I’m conscious of how precious Gianna is. She is more than an asset to be used against Xander Amory. She is more than a bored mafia wife looking for the kind of passion her husband reserves for gunning down any enemy that stands between him and his next billion.

When this happens, I want her to beg. I want her to desire me more than she has ever desired anything or anyone in her life. I want her to feel like she can’t live another day without feeling me inside her.

I unwrap her arms from around my neck and lower my head to gaze directly into her eyes. “You can’t give me what I want.”

The instant I can no longer feel her lips on mine, I realize how much I miss them, but I tell myself this is the only way.

She blinks hard, tears collecting on her bottom lashes. “I don’t understand.” I can see faint teeth marks around her mouth from the violence of my kisses and resist the urge to lick them better. “I thought…” She’s fighting the emotions inside her head.

Perhaps she came here today resigned to lose. Perhaps a tiny part of her wanted to lose so that she could see how far I would go. But I’m walking a fine line between needing her to want me and satisfying my own urges to bend her over and fuck her from behind, and I’m in serious danger of crashing and burning.

Fuck!How far do I go before my mission comes tumbling down around me?

It’s one thing to tease her but outright rejecting her is a different thing entirely. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I place an arm around her back and crush her against me, feeling her swollen nipples through my shirt. Then I slide my free hand beneath the voluminous skirt and find her naked sex. She’s wet. My finger comes away slick as her eyes widen. But she doesn’t pull away.

She doesn’t fucking pull away.

“You’re dripping, Gianna.” My voice is husky, and she only nods, the movement so fleeting, I can’t be sure I didn’t imagine it. “Is that for me?”

Another nod. I can feel her heartbeat thudding against my chest.

I slide my finger inside her gently, probing, feeling her wet tightness swallowing my finger whole while I caress her pussy with my thumb. Her sex clenches around me, and I find her clit, rubbing her own slickness into it.

Gianna’s breathing becomes ragged. She leans heavily against me, hiding her face, as my finger works back and forth, in and out, her juices flowing down my hand. I work her until she can barely support herself on her own two legs, and then I pull my finger out, holding her upright while her breathing regulates, ignoring the way my balls throb.

Eventually, I tilt her head backwards and hold my slick finger to her lips. “Taste it.”

She licks my finger tentatively to begin with, watching me the whole time. Then she curls her tongue around me and closes her eyes.

“This is what I want, Gianna.”

I turn around and walk out of the maze, nodding at Tamara and Sergei as I pass, and hoping that I haven’t pushed her too far.

Tomorrow, I tell myself.

13

GIANNA

I don’t knowhow long I stay inside the maze, leaning against the hedge, because I’m afraid that if I try to walk, I’ll collapse into a sloppy mess on the ground. I can still feel his finger inside me. I can still feel myself dripping down the insides of my thighs, warm and sticky as if I’ve come unplugged.

How can he do this to me?

How can I allow my father’s enemy to do this to me?

Leonid Ivanov must be almost twenty years older than me. He oozes the kind of life experience that I can’t even begin to imagine. But ever since he rescued me from Ivana and carried me up to my room, it’s as if I can no longer think of him as the enemy. I look at him and all I can see are amber eyes, strong shoulders, and jutting jaw.

I feel like an animal searching for a mate who will provide me with strong healthy children. My cheeks flood at the image of him impregnating me with his sperm.

Shit!I felt the bulge in his pants that seemed to go on and on forever, and imagine him filling me up, his cum overflowing and spilling out of me, and wonder what Mika and Cartier would think of me now. I remember Mika saying once that she viewed every man she dated as a potential husband, and I’d laughed because I thought she was joking. But she wasn’t. “Don’t you meet a guy and wonder what your babies will look like?” she’d asked.

Cartier and I had both said no.

I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I’d be wasting my time anyway, because my father would eventually arrange my marriage to a potential ally.

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