Page 82 of Bratva's Intern

Only when he sobbed and his hips crashed into the bed in defeat did I release him. I rubbed his swollen hole gently, leaning over him to kiss him. To share his cum with him. He drank greedily, his moans pitiful as though he was completely spent.

Wren draped an arm around my shoulders, kissing me back lazily, sweeping his tongue into my mouth while I continued rubbing that sexy little hole of his. His lips curved into a smile against mine.

“What?” I asked.

“How long are you going to do that?”

I could only gather that he was referring to the way I was stroking his entrance. “You have a problem with it?”

“No, I… like it.”

For the first time since I’d brought him to bed, he appeared shy.

“Good. Because I wasn’t kidding, Wren. I’m gonna touch you like this all the time. You turn me on.”

He closed his eyes and yawned. “Good. I like you touching me. Maxim?—”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep.”

“I can’t when you’re still touching me like that.”

“No? Maybe this will help.”

I crawled down Wren’s beautiful body. “Lie on your stomach.”

Wren rolled over without a complaint and spread his legs, his hips raised. I smiled, pressing his cheeks apart when he moaned, peering over his shoulder at me.

“Go to sleep, Wren. You did so good tonight.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

WREN

Iwoke up to the weight of an arm slung around my waist, the warmth of a body pressed against my back, and the slow, steady rhythm of someone else’s breathing. Maxim.

For a moment, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming from the night before. My skin was flushed with the lingering aftershocks of pleasure, my muscles loose and spent. I didn’t need to touch myself to remember how good it had felt, how his hands, his mouth, his voice had unraveled me piece by piece until I was nothing but sensation.

I’d never been anyone’s slut before, but that was exactly what I’d been for Maxim last night. Sure, I had sex—loved it even. But I’d never opened up myself like that for anyone and let them make free use of my body the way they wanted. No one had ever fingered me into the best climax of my life. With my other partners, fingering was nothing but a brief precursor to penetration with their dick.

Beneath the afterglow, panic curled in my chest like a fist tightening around my ribs.

I’d slept with my boss.

And not just someone with a supervisor badge and a power trip either, like at the restaurant.

Maxim was the real deal.

Oh god, what we had done last night was definitely sex. The kind that left me gasping, shaking, and utterly wrecked.

The things he’d said to me. He’d known the exact words to use to play me like a fiddle, and I’d let him. All because he sounded so pleased with me when he called me a good little slut. His good little whore.

What do I do?

What would Jess do?

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