Page 17 of The Bratva Contract
“You wanted my shirt off. Maybe I feel the same way.”
“You didn’t wear a shirt,” he accuses, “or panties. To a business meeting.”
“And yet you still turned me down,” I point out.
“That was before I put my mouth on your pussy,” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, almost gentle. I shiver beneath the weight of his gaze. “We could call a truce, you know. If we have a disagreement, we can just fuck it out.”
“I haven’t been to marriage counseling, but I thought the phrase was ‘talk it out.’”
“Not for us it isn’t,” he says, voice dark, before his tongue sweeps into my mouth. I’d agree to anything when he touches me like this. He plucks at my nipple with thumb and forefinger, and every pinch, every pull sends a bolt of pleasure straight to my clit.
“Are you saying I could sway you by withholding pussy?” I tease, kissing his neck. His fingers clench on my breast, possessive. “Never keep your pussy from me,” he groans. “That’s cruel, to me and to you. You know you need my mouth. Don’t you?” His words scorch my lips. I whimper, unwilling to admit he’s right; I’d last five minutes at most. He drags a finger up my thigh and through my folds.
“Are you ready for me, Karina?” he inquires, nipping at my lips. “Or do you need to be warmed up again?” I’m tempted to lie, as another round of attention sounds incredible, but his cock jutsfrom his open fly, big and thick with a heavy curve. My pussy clenches in anticipation.
“Tell me the truth,” he warns, “if you’re not ready, this will hurt. I’m not small.”
“You’re not even average,” I point out.
I glance down between us, and the sight makes my mouth water. The magnificence of his cock could be something to worship. I knew unimaginable pleasure awaited me just from the sight of something so large and heavy. A bead of liquid glistens on the dark-purple head, and I ache to feel that wetness paint my slit. He tugs me off the desk and into his arms, capturing my mouth in a kiss. Then he spins me around and bends me over the desk, facing away from him. Heart hammering, I revel in the rush, the unexpected way he handles me, the thrill of him taking me from behind like an animal, as though I’ve driven him to his baser instincts.
I love how my heels arch my feet and flex my calves, the wicked image of me in black spike heels, naked ass in the air, bent over Dimitri Petrov’s desk. He kisses the back of my neck and shoulder, decadent and slow. From the way his cock plunges and jerks I know he’s on the edge, yet he’s determined to take his time. I reach back, fingers threading through his hair as he mouths my neck. His hand slides around to my lower belly; his broad chest blankets my bare back, that big palm pinning me in place. I focus on that single touch, on the spot where his lips press just below my hairline, making it sensual, playful, and erotic. It’s the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.
I whimper when I feel his shaft prod at my slit. Dima steadies my hip with his hand, sure and confident. Then he thrusts into me, just a little and then a little more. He bends over, mouth tomy ear. He nips my earlobe. Tingling all over, I push my hips up and back to meet his thrusts. My nails dig into the wood of the polished desk. I can hear the slap of our skin, the wet slide of him as he pounds me. I slap the desk with my open hand, bearing down on him, needing the friction of him in just the right spot inside me. Frustrated, I feel the tantalizing sting of a stroke that’salmostright where I need him.
I curse and pound the desk again, this time with my fist. Dima drags the flat of his tongue up my spine, then grips my hips, hiking me higher to change the angle before driving into me once more.
All I can do is gasp: “Pakhan!” and when I do, I feel him grow rigid. All at once, Dima rocks into me and his thrusts turn stuttering, frantic, unable to control himself or wait for me. His climax is sudden and fierce, and I reach back to touch his face again. He drops a kiss on my shoulder. “You called me that. I wasn’t prepared for it, for what it would do to me.”
Sweat cooling on my skin, I stand up and stumble a little. His hand darts out, taking my arm and steady me. He stands there proud, naked before me, and I see that he wants to kiss me, embrace me, give some sign of a new alliance, a friendship perhaps. I pull my skirt back into place and go looking for my bra.
All I want is to get out of here. The sex was amazing, but I feel like he won, like this is how he put me in my place and made his point. He’s making me his wife. I can have great clothes, incredible sex, and bear his babies, nothing more. No matter how good he felt inside me, it will never be enough.
CHAPTER 11
DIMA
“Maybe I should’ve taken her to dinner,” I say to Piotr, shaking my head.
It’s been two days since Karina came to my office for a meeting. She hasn’t contacted me again.
“Have you heard from her at all?”
“She answers my texts, but that’s it.” I rub a hand over my jaw. “I’m too old for this shit, Petrushka.”
He laughs. “You’d better buckle up. You’re getting married. Think she’ll be less trouble once she’s your wife? She’s hot, but she’s a pain in the ass.”
I lift an eyebrow at him. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”
“Tell me I’m wrong. I saw her dress at the engagement party. If my woman showed up like that, she might as well have walked in naked.”
Part of me wants to punch Piotr, my best friend and most trusted brigadier. The other part of me agrees with him. Itwas disrespect, intended to provoke me. I’m uneasy about the balance of power between us. She doesn’t know her place. The whole arrangement seems like more trouble than it’s worth except for getting an heir, which is the part I have to keep in mind.
“Is she what’s got you distracted?” he asks.
“No.I keep going over the fuckups that keep popping up.”
“You got shot at a delivery point. That’s gonna stick with you for a while,” he says. “Last time I got shot?—”
