Page 14 of Owned & Bred by the BRATVA

“You’re so sensitive now,” he murmurs. “Still open from me. Still filled with my cum.”

My eyes roll back as he adds another finger, scissoring them gently, stroking along a place inside me that makes my vision swim. I’m already close, my body overstimulated, raw, and desperate.

His lips brush my jaw, my cheekbone, the tip of my nose. Gentle. Sweet. Like he’s worshiping me even as he wrecks me.

“Let me taste you again,” he says, voice dark with hunger. “One more time before I wash you.”

I whimper as he slides down the bed, sucking each nipple in turn before trailing fire across my belly with his tongue. When he reaches the place between my thighs, he doesn’t hesitate.

His tongue parts me.

My back arches like a bow.

He licks through my folds with long, unhurried strokes, groaning softly like he’s savoring every drop. I thread my fingers into his hair, helpless against the pleasure, my thighs trembling as he sucks gently on my clit, then laves it with the flat of his tongue.

He doesn’t stop until I come apart for him again.

It’s quieter this time. No screaming. No sobbing. Just soft, ragged gasps and whispered moans as he drinks down my release and keeps his mouth on me until I’m writhing from the intensity.

When he finally pulls away, he presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, then looks up at me.

And God help me… the way he looks at me.

Like I’m holy.

Like I’m his salvation.

He rises slowly, scooping me into his arms like I weigh nothing. I curl against his chest, boneless and dazed. He carries me through a door I hadn’t noticed last night, a massive en suite bathroom with a sunken marble tub which he begins filling with steaming water.

He sets me on the edge of the tub and crouches in front of me, brushing my damp hair from my face.

“You are perfect,” he says softly. “Every inch of you.”

I bite my lip, suddenly shy under his gaze. “I… I don’t know how to do this.”

“You don’t need to know anything.” His tone hardens with promise. “You just need to be mine.”

He helps me into the water, his hands supporting my weight. I sink into the heat with a sigh, letting it surround me, ease the soreness in my thighs and hips.

Maksim kneels beside the tub. He grabs a sponge and gently begins to wash me. My arms, my neck, my chest, his eyes never leaving mine.

When he reaches between my legs, I stiffen.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says quietly. “Not ever. Let me take care of what’s mine.”

I nod, breath catching as he lowers the sponge again, gentle but unyielding, washing away the evidence of last night, but not the memory. That’s carved into me now.

He finishes with a kiss to my temple.

Then he lifts my hand, presses it to the center of his chest, where his heart beats fast and hard.

“Do you feel that?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“That’s yours, too.”

Maksim

---