Page 20 of Watched and Bred By the Bratva
And then his fingers breach me—one, then two, sliding deep. I jolt at the shock, unready, but his tongue keeps lashing until the awareness floods me. I’m dripping. I’m opening. I’m hungry.
He scissors his fingers, opening wider. Wider. Testing me. I whimper at the stretch but his tongue keeps me from caring. My sobs twist into begging curses. My thighs tremble so hard I can’t hold them still.
Then he drags my own hand down, forcing my fingers over my breast, around my nipple, pressing until I have no choice but to squeeze myself while he fucks me slowly with his fingers. “Touch,” he orders without lifting his mouth. “Touch everywhere I’m not. Learn your body while I remake it.”
I cry out, rubbing my breast in rhythm with his mouth, and I come violently, hips jolting off the bed.
But he doesn’t stop.
He works me again, faster now—stroking, scissoring, curling his fingers deeper until I can’t breathe. His tongue rasps harder, plumbing deeper as if he can drink me. When I scream, he only presses harder, pushing me through the climax until I’m thrashing, soaked, the sheets beneath me sopping wet.
“You hear that?” he groans into me, a low rumble against my clit. “The sound of you soaking my bed? That’s mine. That’s how ready you are for me.”
I want to argue, to insist I’m ready, beg for his cock. But he shifts lower.
His tongue slips further, lower than I ever imagined. He licks down, around, until he’s teasing the forbidden star behind, circling it with wicked patience. I shriek in shock, mortified, my thighs snapping to close. But his huge hands shove them wide, holding me open like a feast.
It’s filthy. Wrong. But the sensations burst so hot I can’t deny them.
That new stimulus floods me, wrecks me. I come again, scalding and impossible, screaming hoarsely as I soak the sheets all over again. He rides me through, devouring, until I’m shivering wreckage.
Only then does he crawl up my body, his mouth savage on mine, feeding me my own taste. “Beg for me again,” he growls.
“Please,” I sob, gripping his neck. “Please, take me—”
But he shakes his head, eyes wild. “Not until I’m certain. Not until your body craves me more than you crave air in your lungs.”
And then his fingers are inside me again. Three this time. Mercilessly spreading, curling, testing. He presses the blunt head of his cock against my entrance, then pulls away, then again. Easing back, pressing again, stretching me little by little.
“Hold your knees,” he finally orders, voice guttural.
My arms are weak, but I obey, pulling myself open as he watches, devouring the wanton display.
He shoves his fingers in deep, spreads me with them so wide I think I’ll break. Then he slides out, slick with my release, and rubs the head of his cock against me. Pressing lightly. Easing back. Pressing again. Testing. Never fully giving me what I want, driving me insane.
My body is on fire. My voice is gone from begging. My chest is slick with tears and sweat. Still he torments me, checking,testing, forcing me to bear it until my entire body screams for him.
And only when I’m clawing at him, shaking my head, gaspingplease, please,does he finally push in.
Slowly. Brutally. Until I take every inch.
He pushes inside.
Slow. Unrelenting.
And I wait for pain. Wait for the sharp break I’ve dreaded since I first learned what sex even meant. I brace, clutching his shoulders, prepared to split apart—
But it doesn’t come.
There’s a sting, yes. A bite the instant he breaches me fully. Then nothing but stretch. A fullness so shocking it steals my breath, so consuming it feels like the air is pulled from the room. My lips part in disbelief.
“It… it doesn’t hurt,” I whisper, voice shaking.
Nikolai groans, forehead dropping to mine. His whole body quakes with restraint. Muscles drawn and rigid as he holds himself still above me. “You’re killing me, sweet one. Wrapped so tight. Squeezing me like a fist. Your body knows I belong here.”
I moan and clutch him tighter, overwhelmed. He doesn’t move until I tilt my chin up, kiss him deep, and give him one clear, deliberate nod. Consent.
That’s all it takes.
