Page 22 of The Bratva Contract
I grin, grab him by the collar, and kiss him.
CHAPTER 13
DIMA
When I give Karina her wedding gift, the opportunity to be CEO and work part-time for her software firm, she responds just the way I dreamed she would. Her mouth is hot on mine, her hands in my hair.
Ten minutes ago I was too wrung out to even think about round two, but the moment her tongue sweeps into my mouth I’m hard again and throbbing for her sweet pussy. I flip her onto me. She straddles my stomach, her slick heat sliding over my abs, the insides of her thighs still damp with my release. My muscles clench, hips already searching for hers. She gazes down, legs spread, breasts swaying with lush temptation. She leans in and drags one rosy nipple across my lips. I dart my tongue, but she squirms away, teasing.
Karina is pure heat and motion, a playful, insatiable force of nature. I called her little fox tonight, and the name fits. When she dips toward my face again, I seize her, palms branding the curve of her spine so I can close my mouth over a flushed pink nipple. The tight bud is already begging; I torment it, grazing my teeth across tender flesh before sucking deep. My free hand toyswith her other breast, rolling the peak while her slick arousal paints my abdomen. Only then do I release her back to frame her plush hips and guide her higher. She lets me drag her down onto my cock, burying me to the hilt in one punishing thrust. She clenches, shifting, and I rock her, grinding her clit against my pelvis. The friction pulls a fresh gush that coats me, proof I’m giving her exactly what she craves. No mercy, only pleasure.
This time I don’t hold back, don’t take my time. Karina’s body is loose and warm, wet for me. Surging upward, I grab her face and kiss her breathless, then bear her back onto the bed. I take advantage of her slickness and her surprise to plow into her as hard as I want. She grips my biceps, her nails grazing my flesh, her heavy breasts crushed against my chest as I ride her. In a flash, her wide eyes lock onto mine. She parts her lips and breathes ’pakhan’against my mouth. Roaring, I pound into her and shoot my hot semen into her, a series of staccato lashes as I dick her down into that bed. She continues to moan with every short shallow thrust that drags out her pleasure. She weeps then, tears streaming from her eyes and into her tumbled hair. I kiss them, the salt burning on my tongue. I palm her cheek and lick her lips, decadent and unhurried.
“How did you do this to me?” she asks, trying to turn her face away. I keep her still, catch her bottom lip, and slide my tongue back into her mouth. She shudders, a fractured sound, and loops her arms around my neck. Her body arches, molding every curve to me. I drag in a ragged breath as I feel myself swell inside her once more.
“I can do this all night,” I whisper against her lips.
CHAPTER 14
KARINA
Icrack one eye open, squint against the blinding morning light, and roll over with a grumble.
“Time to get up, wife,” Dima says. I drag a pillow over my head to block the glare.
His laugh rumbles, deep and almost friendly. I wriggle farther under the blanket, avoiding the morning sunshine as best I can. When the room falls silent, I relax and release my death grip on the pillow. He must have given up, off to jog or do whatever he does at this unholy hour. I let out a long breath of relief.
He whips the blankets away, and I bolt upright with a shout of dismay. Dima stands beside the bed, covers clutched in his hands, grinning. “Come on, princess,” he teases, “no sleeping late today. We have plans.”
“Plans? It’s our honeymoon,” I whine. “I want to relax and sleep in, maybe swim later and have dinner. What kind of honeymoon did you plan?”
“The best kind. Get up and get dressed, you only have ten minutes,” he says crisply.
“Ten minutes? It’s a wonder your brigadiers haven’t shot you outright if this is how you act!” I say.
“I’m sure they’ve considered it. But I’m the man in charge. Put on some clothes and brush your hair. Don’t scowl at me; it’s only tangled from last night,” he says. “You have nine minutes now. We’re leaving whether you’re ready or not. As your husband, I’d prefer you didn’t take the boat trip to Lady of the Rock totally naked, so hurry.”
He sounds so smug I want to smack him, but there’s no time for a tantrum. I need to get dressed, slather on sunscreen, and wrestle my hair into submission. I roll out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom, muttering.
“Nice language for a bride the morning after her wedding,” he says, amused.
Bleary-eyed, I rummage through my suitcase for something to wear. I’m sore in places after our athletic wedding night, walking a little stiffly. I definitely need to wash my thighs, and maybe a few other spots. Heat flares in my cheeks as images of the positions he folded me into flicker through my mind, the urgency that kept us tangled most of the night. Dragging me out of bed this early after all that feels cruel.
I’ve never showered faster, and my skin is still damp when I slip into a sundress and sandals. I twist my wet hair up and pin it. I’m in the middle of applying makeup when he opens the bathroom door. “Time to go,” he says.
“Give me a minute,” I insist.
“You have one minute left,” he says. “I knew you’d argue, so I started early.”
I finish my mascara, grab a straw hat and my purse, then shove oversized sunglasses onto my face before we even leave the room.
“Are you afraid of sunlight? You’re not a vampire, are you?” he jokes.
I stay silent. In the palatial marble lobby, a porter glides over with a silver tray of coffee and orange juice. I take the juice, only to discover it’s a mimosa, and I drain it gratefully.
“So was that relaxation courtesy of sugar or champagne?” he asks as the car glides toward the marina.
I expect a guided tour, a sailboat, and maybe a crowd of sunburned tourists. Instead, Dima commandeers a sleek white speedboat and helps me aboard.
