Page 64 of The Bratva's Hunted Bride
His hands explore y body, cupping over my breast and tugging at my hardened nipple until pain and pleasure mix. I arch my back and tilt my head back as he sucks my nipple into his mouth and flicks his tongue over me.
Each time his cock pushes into me, stretching me open and filling me up, I feel closer to him. With each penetration, the doubt, the fear, the unknown…it all slips away, and all that’s left is him and me. Forever, with nothing that could ever tear us apart again.
Timofey groans with pleasure and pulls me forward, locking me against his chest as he thrusts ever faster. Water splashes over the edge, soaking the floor, but neither of us cares. His movements are an echo of his control over me. I am clay in his hands, being molded to perfection while he fucks me with his massive cock. And I can’t get enough. My lips are against his ear, gasping and whispering his name. His cock grows even harder and I know he’s close.
The sound and sensations of his pleasure become my pleasure and my body begins to shudder in his embrace as he wraps his thick arms around my waist, locking me tighter against his body as he fucks me even harder.
“Who do you belong to, Talia?” he whispers darkly against my ear. His breath hot on my skin. My heart races at his words.
“I belong to you,” I cry out, his cock getting even harder inside me. I can feel every twitch, every movement, shooting ecstasy through me.
My pussy is tightening, twitching, throbbing and swelling as I edge closer to release.
“That’s right. You belong to me. Forever.” He wraps his hand around my throat and pushes my head back as he pulls me down onto his cock.
I explode around him. My pussy convulsing as he penetrates himself into my soul.
Timofey’s lips find mine as he explodes into me, pushing his tongue into my mouth. Our bodies locked together, a symbol of the rest of our lives to come.
Because Iwillbe his, forever.
Epilogue - Timofey
Talia is standing in front of the full-length bedroom mirror, her body turned to the side as she cups her hands beneath her swollen belly. She’s wearing a long black dress that hugs her belly and floats elegantly around her slender, toned legs. She looks too beautiful to describe. An image of perfection with her hair pinned up and her elegant neck tilted to the side as she studies her reflection. Peeking out from beneath the dress, I can see her Nike sneakers. The ones I just helped her put on.
Heat swells in my chest as I watch her.Mine.
“Only three more months until we get to meet him.” She smiles at the mirror, then lifts her eyes to look at me through the silver glass. “I can’t believe how fast he’s growing.”
“And I can’t believe that you look impossibly more beautiful with each passing day.” I pull the cuff of my shirt straight, walking over to her, lured by her radiance. “Do you want to skip our dinner reservations and stay home so that I can devote the night to making your legs shake?”
She giggles and shakes her head. “I’m so big now I can’t even bend over to tie my own shoes. And there’s still another three months to go,” she argues.
“You are carryingmyson,” I grin.
I stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, beneath her belly, and gently lifting the weight of our son.
She groans with pleasure and leans into me, tilting her head back against my chest. “Stay there all day,” she sighs.
“I can carry you everywhere you need to go, my love. And I’ll tie your shoes and I’ll help you get dressed and …”
She tilts her head further back, and her eyes lock with mine. “You’ll help me getdressed?” She grins, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Yes,” I say, confused.
“Mm. It seems like you’re far more interested in helping me get undressed.”
I chuckle. “I can do both, but if I had to choose, then obviously the latter.”
“Well, I justgotdressed. And I actually feel really pretty, so no, we can’t skip our dinner date. Besides. I’m so hungry I might start gnawing on your arm soon.” She bites her lips and throws me a cheeky warning smile in the mirror.
Beneath my hands, our baby moves inside her and kicks softly against her belly. “He kicked!” I shout, overexcited. She laughs loudly, and as her belly shakes, he kicks again. “He kicked again,” I say, like a child, my voice not hiding my joy in any way whatsoever.
She threads her hands over mine. “He knows you’re holding him. He can hear our voice,” she says quietly, staring lovingly at our hands.
I cannot wait to be a father. I can’t wait to hold my son, to have Talia and our baby wrapped in my arms, snuggled against me.
I never thought I would know love as intense as this, but it’s smothering me in the most exquisite ways.
