Page 122 of Bratva's Intern

It wasn’t like the kiss at the door. That one had been desperate, driven by want. This one was deep. Slow and lingering, like he had all the time in the world to devour me, one breath at a time.

His tongue slid against mine, hot and slick, and Igroaned into his mouth, gripping the front of his shirt like I needed to hold on or drown.

He slid his hands under my hoodie—warm, steady, touching like he was rediscovering the shape of me.

“Bedroom,” I gasped between kisses.

He nodded, not breaking contact as we stumbled off the couch, still tangled, still touching, bumping into walls and doorframes, and laughing until we collapsed onto my bed.

Clothes peeled away in pieces. My hoodie was yanked over my head, his shirt was tugged open with impatient fingers, and both of us were stripped to skin and heat and nothing else.

He rolled on top of me, chest against mine, our cocks pressed tight between us, hard and leaking, friction sparking with every tiny movement.

I moaned, clutching his back, digging my heels into the mattress as he rocked against me.

His mouth never left mine. He kissed me like he couldn’t get enough—biting my lower lip, dragging his tongue along my teeth, groaning when I sucked at his mouth in return.

“Jesus, Wren.” He licked my neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. “The more I taste you, the more I want you. You’re like a drug, and I’m addicted.”

The thought of addiction had never sounded so good.

God, I needed him, needed this, more than I’d ever thought possible.

“Wren.”

“Yes?”

“Sit on my face, baby. I want you to smother me with that sexy ass.”

His voice was ragged and tinged with desperation. I flushed hotly but fumbled to reposition myself over him.

With his hands on my hips, he guided me until I wasstraddling him, perfectly aligned. I swallowed down a soft whimper as he tipped his head back against the pillow.

As his warm breath wafted over my skin, I shuddered violently. An eager tongue darted forward, licking a stripe along my puckered asshole.

“Oh, god.”

He licked into me like he was starved for it, like he wanted to taste me from the inside out. Hot, wet pressure circled my hole, slow and purposeful, until my thighs shook from the effort of staying upright.

“M-Max…” I gasped, my voice thin, broken. I pushed out, spreading my muscles and opening up for him.

He squeezed my ass, spreading me wider as he buried his face deeper. The sounds—obscene, wet, and sinful—filled the quiet of the room.

Every swirl of his tongue made my cock twitch, leaking against my belly. I rocked my hips forward, grinding back into his tongue, fucking my asshole.

He moaned beneath me, the vibration shooting straight through my spine. I cried out and reached behind me, clutching at his hair as I rolled my hips, riding his face in a daze of pleasure and need.

When he finally slowed, his lips glistening, he dragged me back down and kissed me. I moaned into his mouth, groaning against his lips. He rolled us over and settled between my legs.

“Where do you keep the lube?” he asked.

“Drawer. Bottom one.”

He pushed up on one arm, reaching over to follow my instructions. As he retrieved the small black bottle, his fingers brushed against mine, sending a shiver through me.

I bit my bottom lip and breathed out slowly. I could take him, but no doubt, after last night, it would hurt. He caughtmy expression as he poured lube over his cock. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Umm…”

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