Page 31 of Owned & Bred by the BRATVA

And I’ll never be the same.

Clara

I’m just as obsessed as he is. The orgasm came from somewhere so deep inside of me that my body is still shaking and he pulled out of me an entire hour ago. Now he is hard again and I desperately want him to fill my pussy. I want his cum dripping down my thighs, making them sticky, reminding me of who I belong to, and who belongs to me.

He won’t dissappoint. This time, I climb over him, straddling him, trying not to look as inexperienced as I feel. When I slide down his hot, hard cock, he reaches up and squeezes my breasts so hard I yelp.

“Say it,” he growls, and I know exactly what he needs to hear.

“I’m yours,” I say as I lift myself to the very tip of his cock and drop down the full length again. The glorious stretch is almost too much to bear. “I’m always yours. Every hole is for you, every day.” I pick up my pace as he holds onto my hips, trying to slow me down, but I can’t. I need to fuck him hard and fast like he fucks me. I need to feel his hot cum in me even while it drips from my ass. The knowledge that I can make him come so hard, so completely, completes me. The power I feel is consuming, all too addictive.

“Slow down,” he says from between clenched teeth, but then he makes the mistake of dropping his gaze to where my pussy slides over his thick rod and it’s too much. He throws back hishead and roars through his orgasm, sending me over with him. His cum froths around his cock as I ride out my pleasure, not wanting to stop until my body is completely spent.

By the time I collapse over him, we are both panting, trying to steal back our breath.

“It’ll never be enough,” I complain, relishing in the way his fat cock feels as it twitches against my walls. “I always want more.”

His hand strokes over my back. “Now you know how I feel.”

Epilogue

Six months later

Clara

The house is quiet when I wake, except for the rustle of trees outside the window and the occasional creak of wood as the old walls settle around us. Early light filters through the curtains, soft and gold, painting the sheets in a warmth I don’t want to leave. But the moment I stretch, the weight of it shifts. Not just the sheets.Me.

I rest a hand over the gentle curve of my stomach, and a smile spreads across my face before I even open my eyes.

Six months.

Six months of being married. Six months of learning how to live with a man who doesn’t know how to love in half-measures. Six months of becoming the center of his world.

I shift onto my side and find the other half of the bed already empty, but still warm. Maksim has never once let me wake alone for long. If he leaves before I stir, it’s only to start my bath or heat the tea I’ve started craving. The man who once stood silent and terrifying in darkened rooms now reads articleson pregnancy nutrition at 3 a.m. and tracks every doctor’s appointment like we’re plotting a military coup.

I sit up slowly, one hand braced behind me, the other still resting on my belly. My body is softer now. Rounder. Heavier in places I’m still getting used to. But I’ve never felt more beautiful than I do in his eyes.

He tells me every day.

Sometimes with words.

Sometimes with his tongue pressed against my clit.

Sometimes with the kind of possessive touch that reminds me exactly who I belong to.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed just as the door creaks open. There he is, shirtless, barefoot, mug in one hand, scowl on his face even though I know it’s not real. His hair is tousled. His eyes go straight to my stomach like they always do now, and his jaw softens instantly.

“You’re supposed to stay in bed,” he says, walking toward me.

“I was lonely.”

His mouth twitches. “I was gone for thirty seconds.”

“Still,” I murmur, holding out my hand.

He sets the mug on the bedside table, takes my hand in his, and lowers himself in front of me. He kneels like a king at my feet, and places a kiss just beneath the swell of my belly.

“You feel different,” he says softly.

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