Page 91 of Bratva's Vow
I traced my fingers along the inside of his hip. The plug slid in another inch.
“Just like that. Let it stretch you.”
When the widest part pressed against him, I paused, holding there, letting his body adjust.
He whimpered, breath caught in his throat.
“You feel that? That stretch is mine. That ache… that’s me claiming you.”
He let out a broken cry, and I kissed the back of his neck again.
Then slowly, so slowly I pushed the plug in the final inch.
It seated with a soft, wet sound, the jeweled end settling flush between his cheeks.
He was panting. Trembling. Utterly undone.
I reached around, gently cupped his cock.
Still hard. Still leaking.
He moaned, the sound long and low.
“That’s it,” I murmured against his ear. “You took it so well, kroshka. Just like I knew you would.”
I kissed the corner of his jaw and whispered, “Now… I need that pretty cock of yours soft by the time I finish my shower.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MAXIM
The water beat down on my back, sharp and cold to take the edge off my lust, but I didn’t move.
I’d stayed too long.
Part of me had thought the time away from Wren would help. Thought if I put some distance between us, it would take the edge off how badly I needed him. After several days of having nothing but his anger, he was finally submitting to me, and the need to take everything he had to give and mark him as mine was more powerful than before our falling out. Until Wren ran away from home, I’d underestimated how muchIwanted him.
But the image of him, tied down, stretched open, lace clinging to his thighs, trembling around a plug I’d buried in him, was branded behind my eyes like fire on flesh.
I was hard the entire time.
When I stepped out of the shower and toweled off, I was still aching. Still pulsing with need. I dried myself fast, ignoring the press of my cock against the terrycloth, and leftthe bathroom hoping that some final scrap of discipline might have returned.
It hadn’t.
Because the moment I walked into the bedroom, the air left my lungs.
He was still where I’d left him.
Still fucking perfect.
As soon as I entered, Wren rose on his knees, back arched, his arms stretched taut toward the headboard. The silk ties dug slightly into the pink skin of his wrists where he’d tested the bonds. His forehead rested on his forearms like he’d been waiting for me the whole time.
But it was the way he held himself that undid me.
His ass was high in the air, cheeks spread enough to see the jeweled plug gleaming between them. His legs were open wide, shaking faintly from the effort of holding the pose. The panties I’d left bunched at his thighs still hung there like a delicate ribbon.
And his cock…
