Page 77 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession
Our lips met in a kiss that was gentle at first, hesitant, like we were both afraid the other might break. But when I parted my lips on a sigh, something shifted.
His hands slid into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss further, and I melted against him at the feel of his fingers in my scalp.
“Elena,” he groaned against my mouth. “Tell me to stop if this isn't what you want.”
“Don't stop,” I breathed. “Please don't stop.”
That was all he needed. He swept me up in his arms as if I weighed nothing, carrying me to the couch. He laid me down gently, hovering over me with a reverence that made my heart ache.
“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. “So perfect.”
I reached up, pulling him down to me, needing to feel his weight, his heat. He came willingly, settling between my legs as we kissed again, slower this time,with intent.
His hands slid down my sides, finding the hem of my dress, pushing it up inch by torturous inch. His lips left mine to trail down my neck, across my collarbone, making me shiver.
“Stand up, please,” he requested, his voice rough.
Slowly, reverently, he pushed my dress up and over my head, leaving me in just my underwear. His eyes swept over me like he was memorizing every inch.
“God, I've missed this,” he said, leaning forward to press a kiss to my stomach. “Missed you.”
His lips traveled lower, kissing along the waistband of my panties, his hands gripping my hips when he hit the floor with his knees. I tangled my fingers in his hair, needing something to anchor me as desire pooled hot and insistent between my thighs.
He hooked his fingers in the sides of my underwear, dragging them down my legs until I could step out of them. And then his mouth was on me, hot and eager, making me gasp.
My knees nearly buckled at the first touch of his tongue. He held me steady with his hands on the backs of my thighs, his tongue working against me in ways that had me seeing stars. I writhed above him, one hand still in his hair, the other covering my mouth to stifle my cries.
He looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Let me hear you,” he said. “I want to hear what I do to you.”
His fingers joined his mouth then, one, then two, slipping inside me as his tongue circled my clit. I cried out, unable to hold back as pleasure built within me, coiling tighter and tighter. Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, his fingers curled, finding that spot inside me that made me see stars.
I clenched onto his shoulders, feeling as though I would fall and break and shatter with ecstasy as my legs threatened to give up control, and then, I came with his name on my lips, my body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over me. He worked me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks subsided.
When I could breathe again, he stood, pulling me against him for a kiss. I could taste myself on his lips.
I tugged at his shirt. “Too many clothes,” I complained, and he laughed, a sound I hadn't heard in far too long. God, how I missed that sound.
“Let me fix that,” he said, stepping back to strip off his shirt, then his pants and underwear in quick succession.
He was magnificent, all lean muscle and taut skin that highlighted every detail of his magnificent tattoos. My eyes traveled down his body, lingering on his erection, hard and ready for me.
He pulled me back to the couch, but this time he sat, guiding me to straddle him. I positioned myself over him, both of us groaning as I sank down, taking him in inch by inch until he was fully seated within me.
For a moment, we just stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in. Then I began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him filling me, stretching me.
His hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, making me arch into his touch. Our pace increased; need driving us faster, harder. His mouth found my neck, sucking, biting, marking me as his.
“You feel so good,” he groaned against my skin.
“Thisfeels so good,” I agreed, too lost in pleasure to deny it. In that moment, it was true. I was his, and he was mine, and nothing else mattered.
I forgot why I was so damn angry as to keep him away for so long.
I felt the tension building again, that familiar pressure that signaled I was close. Gastone must have felt it too, because one hand slid between us, finding my clit, circling it in time with our thrusts.
“Come for me again,” he urged. “Let me feel you.”
It was too much. This moment felt like old times, when all we had was trust for each other. It reminded me of every timehe’d touched me, always gentle, always kind. I closed my eyes and felt all the pain roar through me, and then…settle. Like a calm.
