Page 11 of Owned & Bred by the BRATVA

And all I can think is:more.

I should pull out. Let her rest. Let her breathe.

But I can’t.

Because her tight little cunt is still fluttering around my cock, milking me, like her body already knows it belongs to me. Because I’ve spent years imagining what it would be like to bury myself inside the one person who would be perfect for me, and now that I’ve found her, now that I have buried myself inside her, there’s no end to it.

I shift my hips and she gasps again, whimpering, her hands gripping my arms as if to ground herself.

“You’re still so hard,” she whispers, her voice shaky.

I smile, dark and low. “I’m not done with you.”

Her breath catches as I start to move again, slow and deep, dragging every inch of my cock through the wet heat of her. Her nails dig into my back, her legs tightening around my waist like she doesn’t know if she’s trying to hold me in or push me away.

“You thought I’d stop after one?” I murmur against her neck. “You thought I could taste you, feel you, come inside you once andwalk away?”

I thrust deeper, and her moan turns into a cry.

“No, little bride,” I rasp. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget who you were before me.”

She tries to respond, but the words die on her tongue as I start to move in earnest. My hips slam into hers with a rhythm that borders on punishing, but she takes it.Welcomesit. Her head falls back, mouth open in pure surrender, and the look on her face makes something primal explode inside me.

“I’ll fill you again,” I growl. “And again. I’ll keep you full until it takes. Until you’re carrying my child and leaking my seed and begging me not to stop.”

She sobs my name and I fucking lose it.

I sit back on my heels, dragging her with me, holding her hips as I thrust up into her from below. Her hands scramble across my chest, then slide up to clutch my shoulders as her body bounces with every brutal stroke.

“I can’t—I’m gonna—” she gasps.

“Come for me,” I command, voice rough with need. “Right now. Let me feel it.”

She shatters, screaming, thighs shaking violently as her orgasm rips through her. She clenches around me so tightly it almost blinds me, and I slam into her one final time, coming with a roar that feels like it tears me in half.

My cum floods her again, thick and hot, and I stay buried to the hilt, panting against her skin, her name like a prayer on my lips.

Clara.

My bride.

My obsession.

My ruin.

Her breath slows beside me, but her body still clings to mine. Hot, slick, spent. I brush my hand down her side, along the rise of her hip, to the space where our bodies are still joined, and I lift my palm to press against the soft curve of her stomach.

Right over where I’ve filled her. Twice now.

The instinct is ancient. Bone-deep.

I want her to hold it. To keep it. To grow round with me inside her. Not just once, not just now—forever.

She shifts slightly beneath the weight of my touch, and I slide my other arm beneath her, keeping one hand where it is, possessively splayed low across her belly. Her skin is damp with sweat. Her lips are swollen. Her lashes flutter with the heavy pull of sleep, but I can’t stop looking at her. I’ve never wanted anything so much. Not power. Not territory. Not blood.

Only her.

Mine.

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