Page 25 of Marked & Bred By the Bratva
Instead, I take her downstairs to the used car I keep here, and buckle her in.
* * *
She goes quiet halfway through the drive. Watching the streets change. Neighborhoods shift. Brick turns to glass. Concrete turns to marble. Her eyes go wide when we pull up to the high-rise where I own the penthouse apartment. The valet opens the door. The concierge nods like he’s seen me with her a hundred times.
She clutches my hand as we ride the elevator.
“Lev,” she whispers, “where are we? I thought you were taking me to grab a bite…”
I don’t answer. Just smirk.
The doors open to my penthouse.
And she gasps.
* * *
Floor-to-ceiling windows. The skyline glittering. Black steel, dark wood, matte stone all over. Ava’s breath hitches as she steps inside.
“What’s this place?” she asks.
“It’s ours,” I reply, kicking the door shut behind us.
She turns to ask more questions, all wide-eyed, lips parted. And I silence her with a kiss.
* * *
Her back hits the glass a second later.
I press her there, my hand sliding under her shirt. She squirms, but she’s soaked again. Hot, wet, already opening for me.
“Lev, there are people down there… they could see,” she whispers.
“Good.” I bite her neck. “Let ‘em watch.”
I yank her sweatpants down, push her juicy thighs apart, and sink to my knees. She cries out when I lick her, legs shaking. Her hands hit the window.
We’re thirty floors up, but that doesn’t matter.
She moans, “Lev, someone’s gonna see.”
I growl, “Let them see what they’ll never touch.”
* * *
I eat her until she’s sobbing, then turn her around.
Bend her over the marble counter, push my own sweats down just enough to free my throbbing cock and heavy balls, and slide home, slow, deep, filthy.
One hand around her throat. The other between her legs.
Every thrust echoes through the room.
She screams my name as I fill her again, raw, bare, choking on pleasure. And when we come, I let out a snarl against her shoulder.
“Say it,” I growl.
She gasps, “Yours.”
