Page 89 of Bratva's Vow
He opened his mouth to me like it was instinct, like he was starving for it, and I took full advantage. Our tongues met in a slow, filthy dance, wet, consuming. He whined into my mouth, rocking his hips up in a desperate plea for friction.
“Please,” he panted when I broke away just long enough for him to breathe. “Maxim…”
His voice cracked, wrecked and needy.
And I almost gave in right then.
Almost tore the lace off him and buried myself inside him until he forgot everything that wasn’t me.
Instead, I pulled back.
His eyes widened in disbelief as I climbed off the bed.
“Wh-where are you going?”
I didn’t answer him but stood at the foot of the bed, grabbed the hem of my shirt, and yanked it over my head in one fluid motion. His eyes followed the movement like he was hypnotized. I didn’t rush. I wanted him to look. To watch.
I let the shirt fall to the floor and reached for my belt, slowly unbuckling it with deliberate precision. The leather slipped free with a soft hiss.
Wren’s gaze dropped to my hands.
I popped each button on my trousers one at a time, then pushed them down my hips, letting them slide to the floor. I stood there in nothing but my briefs, the outline of my cock obvious, straining, the fabric damp at the tip.
He let out a soft whimper.
“Enjoying the show?” I asked, my voice low and rough.
He nodded, barely inhaling.
I grabbed the silk restraints, the butt plug, and the cock cage I needed. Returning to the bed, I took the ties and motioned for him to shift up to the head of the bed.
“Turn over.”
Without a word, he rolled over onto his stomach with his arms raised. I loved his obedience. His back rose and fell in staccato rhythm as I tied the silk around his wrists, securing him to the headboard.
“You should tie me up more often,” he whispered over his shoulder.
Fuck.
He was perfection wrapped in skin as soft as the silk around his wrists and a perfect backside ready to be fucked. I pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss to the back of his neck. He gasped, head falling forward.
“Maaaax…”
I bit his shoulder, firm enough to leave a mark, then kissed the spot, slowly making my way down the curve of his back.
He writhed beneath me, panting, moaning, bound wrists twisting in the restraints as I traced my mouth along his spine. Every flick of my tongue, every graze of teeth, had him arching and gasping like he didn’t know whether to beg or cry.
I slid my hands down, gliding over the swell of his ass, the lace soft and tight beneath my palms.
“God, you’re perfect,” I whispered. “You know that, sweetheart?”
His hips jerked.
I dragged my teeth across the top of one cheek and felt him tremble.
“So fucking beautiful like this. Every inch of you made to be mine.”
He let out a broken little sound that shot straight to my cock.
