Page 24 of The Bratva Contract
“Okay, do you need to blow a whistle or anything so all the other tourists can come out of hiding now?” I tease him.
“No, they’ll open it up in another hour or so.” He glances at his watch. “We’ll have plenty of time at the cave, too.”
“No twenty minute limit?” I say. He shakes his head.
“It’s supposed to be very beautiful.”
“You haven’t seen it before? You own the resort and casino.”
“I don’t take time for sightseeing.”
“You’re a busy man,” I reply, thinking it’s sad that he never slows down to appreciate the beautiful places where he does business.
“Yes, but perhaps too busy at times,” he relents as he helps me on the boat.
It feels different to take his hand now, having been together in the somber stillness of the old church and emerged into the unbelievable brightness of the morning. The bay is so blue it almost hurts to look at it. He drives the boat to a rocky outcropping. We slip inside an opening into the dark cavern. I remove my sunglasses and stand up to move closer to him.
“The Spiva Shaft is the largest cave on Kotor Bay,” he says as he cuts the ignition. “Except at high tide, when it’s inaccessible, this place is packed with watercraft and dozens of tourists all day long.”
“It’s empty now,” I observe, my eyes starting to adjust to the darkness.
“Exactly,” he says with satisfaction.
Within seconds the vibrant water begins to glow, a luminous blue, as if the rugged cave walls and the sand far below emit their own light.
“The water’s so blue because of the minerals, and the sunlight strikes the water in here through those crevices just so, and it makes this otherworldly glow,” Dima explains.
“Can we swim?” I ask.
He strips off his shirt. I look around, realizing I didn’t bring a bathing suit. Moving toward me, he begins unbuttoning my white sundress. “It’s okay. You don’t need a suit,” he says, his smile predatory enough to make my heart pound. I help with the buttons, and soon my dress and sandals are off. He hooks his fingers under my panties and drags them down my legs. I step out of them, keenly aware of his heat and closeness. He drops his shorts and climbs to the side of the boat, poised for an instant, all lean, bronzed muscle, god-like, before diving into the water. I gasp at the sight, moved by how gorgeous and strong he is, how his athletic dive splits the water without a splash. I’m more cautious getting to the edge, but I dive after him. The water is surprisingly warm, the salinity buoying me upward.
I slick my hair back when I break the surface. I look for him in the magical blue light that clings like a whisper to this enclosure. I start to say his name and break that hush when I feel him behind me, a hand on my belly, his body pressed behind me. He kisses the side of my throat and I reach back for him, coming in contact with wet hair, looking back over my shoulder to capturehis salty lips. He turns me in his arms so I’m facing him, and I’m struck by the surreal effect of this light, the secluded cave and its stunning rock formations, incandescent water, and the secret feeling of it all. A hideaway just for the two of us. I know what he wants before he even speaks. My answer will be yes. He wants this privacy for a reason, so he can fuck me here, bare in the glowing water. I love how exotic it is, how romantic, but also how raw and real.
Water sluices down his chest, over the bratva star tattoo I bend to kiss again. I love the ink on his smooth skin, the dark lines etched into his flesh. Without them he’d be almost too handsome; the tattoos are an honor, representing generations of tradition and years of danger mapped on his body. Permanent, somber, filthy enough to drive me wild, they remind me that beneath his designer suits lives this rock-hard, deadly man, his lethal history etched into his skin.
I wind my arms around his neck, lifting my face for him to kiss me. I’m stunned even now by the force of his mouth on mine, his tongue muscular and demanding. I love the slippery sensation of our wet flesh pressed together urgently. I whisper to him as he backs me up to the rough rock wall. He moves between my legs and presses me to the side of the cavern. The stones dig into my spine and I shift uncomfortably, trying to ignore it.
His hand closes over my breast and plucks at my tender nipple. One tug of his mouth on my breast makes my sex flush, grow plump and slick for him. I wrap my legs around his hips and when he guides his cock to my seam, I bury my face in his neck, biting down on his shoulder as he slams into me, driving into my body. I bristle at the rough rock scraping my back, but with his next thrust, he hikes my knee higher, opens me, and the strokeof his thick cock brushes a place that unfurls heat in my belly. I won’t mind if he fucks me right into the rock if it feels this good.
Dima slips his big hand into the small of my back, anchoring me to him so his cock stays seated deep inside me, and turns us effortlessly in the water so his back is against the wall. I smile against his mouth as he kisses me. Then he takes my hips and begins to move me on his cock, working me over him. My hands in his hair are all that keep me anchored to reality. I feel like I’m drifting away, suspended above time and held tight by the agony of pleasure building inside me.
Dima stops, his face a rictus, lips drawn back from his clenched teeth. He bends me back until I’m floating on the surface of the saltwater, my arms loose at my sides, hair drifting all around me. He plunges into me, making waves lap around me with every thrust. I’m suspended, weightless, and held by the warm saltwater as he fucks me in this secret cave. It’s by far the most erotic thing I could ever imagine. There’s nothing to grip or bite, no way to tense and hold myself together to withstand my climax. I have to take it, all of him, in the most vulnerable position possible, and it feels magnificent. The stiff heat of his cock fills me, hands grabbing my thighs in a punishing grip to keep me still. It feels elemental, savage, and glorious. He claims me as an animal claims its mate, marking me so no other will feel right after this. I won’t be surprised if his fingers sear burns onto my skin because of the power that ripples through him and into me. My body is languid, warm, then coils tight with the pulse of ecstasy that grows more fearsome with each thrust.
My back arches as my thighs clench around his hips, my arms stretching above my head, and water sliding between my fingers. I cry out, a wail like the shriek of a bird. The squeeze of my inner muscles clamp so hard it hurts with every wave of fiercepleasure. It’s a sharp spear of bliss and anguish. I’ve clamped down on his cock so hard he can’t move to get any relief. I grin a little, knowing how it must affect him. His eyes are hot on mine and he helps me sit up, dizzy and laughing from my climax. I hug him, arms around his neck to release some of that sizzling pleasure that still roams my body. He’s taut and hard, keeping himself still and buried within me.
“What do you need from me?” I ask, and for the first time I care if he gets what he needs.
“Hold on,” he manages through gritted teeth.
He flattens me against the rough wall, a big hand braced beside my head as he impales me on his thick cock. Breathless, I take it, clinging to him, whimpering at the sheer force of each thrust. He’s relentless. I don’t know how he can last so long, the endurance it must take. Sweat slips down his temple and, charmed, I reach for it, lean in, and lick the salty drop from his skin. He growls, possessive, then fastens his mouth on my neck, sucking until I feel another stir deep in my belly. I wrap my arms and legs around him.
“Stop holding back,” I tease a little breathlessly. He bites my throat and a spike of pleasure ticks through me, clenching my muscles. He groans when my inner muscles grip his cock and he works my hips in a way that must give him more pleasure.
“Don’t. Want. To. Stop.” He grinds out, punctuating each word with a thrust.
I start to see spots as my vision blurs. I wonder if I’m going to pass out, and if he’ll keep fucking me unconscious. I almost want him to crave me that much, to be insatiable for me. I understand what he’s trying to tell me, that there can’t be enough and therewon’t be enough. Even when he comes, he’ll need me again in a couple of hours or sooner. There’s no sense of being done. It makes me feel powerful and desired, and I want to lord this over him, his craving for me, but I feel the same way. It won’t work to taunt him about making a fool of himself over a woman who only married him because I had no choice, except I’m scoring his back with my nails and pleading for more from him even now.
He crushes my mouth with his and while I suck his tongue, he mutters, “Close your eyes. Feel this, now—” he breaks off.
