Page 65 of Knocked-up Bratva Bride
He roughly tugged on my nightdress, lifting it higher above my head. When the fabric rose above my breasts, panic filled my chest. “What if someone walks in on us?”
“Then let them,” he rasped.
Shit.That was risky. But it was the hottest risk I was willing to take.
The nightdress fell off my head and to the ground, and he turned me around with just one yank off his arm, so I faced him.
He cupped one of my breasts and fondled it before squeezing, and a warmth flooded my pussy at his half-lidded gaze. “Beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured, almost drooling.
I licked my lips, and my nipples tightened under the heat of lust in his gaze, feeling more daring to lift my hand to his neck and lower my lips.
“You’re rather bold tonight,” he groaned into my mouth, and I shivered.
“We might as well just get it over with,” I said, half-heartedly.
“Sure.” He cupped my ass again, then moved his hands around to cup my pussy.
His fingers slipped between my folds, working their way to my clit as I spread my legs wider to accommodate him.
He swallowed my noises, and our tongues battled as he pressed in deeper, taking the air from my lungs. We shared our breaths, pausing briefly when our lips barely touched, before diving in again and losing control.
His kiss deepened until I wasn’t sure where he ended and I began. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, needing more, needinghim.
When I tugged at the hem, he stilled just long enough to pull away and look at me, eyes dark with something raw and wild. I didn’t have to ask.
I lifted his shirt slowly, my hands brushing the taut planes of his stomach, and my breath caught as his tattooed skin met the cool air.
He let me strip him bare, piece by piece, and there was something electric in the way he let me unmake him.
Without a word, I reached for his waistband, and he just watched.
That alone made my heart slam against my ribs. I hooked my fingers into the band of his pants, dragging them down with deliberate slowness, my knuckles grazing his skin as the stretchy material gave way.
The tension between us was a live wire, sparking in the air, making it hard to breathe.
The moment I pushed his briefs down, he let out a quiet, ragged breath. And gosh, that sound made me feel like I held lightning in my hands.
He stepped out of the pile of clothing at his feet, and for a long moment, neither of us moved. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight, and his eyes never left mine.
And I took my chance. I reached for the length of his beautiful cock, wrapped my hand around it, and tugged gently.
His eyes fluttered as he groaned.
“You like that, don’t you?”
I breathed, “Yeah.” Because I did.
He flicked his tongue against my lips. “Mm. Do it again. And play with it longer.”
I felt the heat between us pulse—hot, slow, dizzying. Like gravity was bending just to press our bodies back together.
I made my grip firmer, flicked my thumb over the precum on his tip, and pushed my fist up and down his length.
He sucked my mouth and kissed my hair. “Elena,” he murmured, voice like smoldering coals, “do you know what you’re doing to me?”
I did.
Because I was burning too.
