Page 61 of Sold to the Bratva
I push her gently back against the sheets and drop to my knees beside the bed, pulling her to the edge so she’s positioned exactly how I need her. She gasps when my hands part her thighs, but she doesn’t stop me.
“You don’t know how much I want you, wife,” I groan as I leave hot, wet kisses on the inside of her thigh. “I think about you every second of every day.”
“That’s a lot of thinking,” she says on a sigh.
“Mostly I think of all the ways I want to make you come,” I tell her, grazing over her labia to drive her wild before kissing the other thigh.
“Well, don’t let me be the one to get in the way of that,” she teases breathlessly. “It isn’t hard these days.”
“No,” I agree.
Her pregnancy has made her so sensitive to my touch. Each time her jaw goes slack and her eyes roll back, it electrifies me. When she lets out a string of words so filthy they even make me balk, the sight alone becomes my favorite pastime.
“So tonight, I could draw this out,” I muse, trailing kisses over her soft skin but avoiding the place she needs me most. “Or I could get right to it.”
She moans and tries to speak, but nothing intelligible comes out. She might be begging me to hurry, or maybe to drag it out. Either way, I spread her with my fingers and ease my tongue inside.
Her back bows toward me, a guttural sound ripping from her throat and shooting straight to my dick. She’s so goddamn wet and ready that a whisper of air would finish her, but I want her to feel every ounce of worship first.
I lick her slowly, teasingly, coaxing those low, desperate sounds I live for. In less than a minute her body begins to tense, but I’m determined to draw this out. I pull back and press a soft kiss to her mound.
“Why are you stopping?” she breathes.
I chuckle against her skin. “So impatient, my love,” I tease. “Trust me, it will all be worth it.”
When she eases back, I start again, still skirting her swollen clit. She needs me so badly she bucks against me, and every instinctscreams to bury myself inside her. Not tonight. Tonight is all about her.
I devour her, savor every taste, letting my tongue flick in and out until she’s a shaking, writhing mess. Only then do I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue and slide two fingers inside her slick pussy.
Her release is instant. She shatters around me, cries of pleasure echoing through our bedroom. Her hands tangle in my hair, holding tight while she rides the wave. At some point she lets go, probably without even realizing it, then lifts her arms to rest above her head as her whole body melts into the mattress.
I stand and clean her gently, then scoop her up and ease her beneath the covers. She’s still naked, still dewy from the bath, yet so sated she’s half-asleep already.
I slip in next to her and wrap an arm around her waist. She turns to face me. Unable to stop myself, I press a kiss to her lips and rest my forehead against hers.
“I will protect you both with my life. You have my word.”
Her eyes flutter closed and she whispers, “I know.”
24
KATYA
Before I got pregnant, dinner with my father was nothing special. Most nights I scrambled for any excuse to bail. Tonight, though, with it being his first invitation in months, my stomach flutters with nerves. Maybe it’s because Isaac is working late and I’m going alone. He insists it’ll be good for me to spend time with Papa before the baby arrives. I’m not convinced.
I shift in the cushioned chair, hunting for an angle that won’t grind my belly against the table’s edge. At nearly thirty-seven weeks, comfort feels like a fairy tale, but tonight the discomfort is downright vicious.
I wish Isaac were here. He’d know exactly how to peel the tension from my shoulders, slide his hand under the table, and let me lean into him. Damn his late-night work.
Papa finally steps into the dining room in a crisp charcoal button-up and slacks. His hair is slicked back, jaw tight, yet his eyes soften when they land on me.
“Katya,” he says, nodding as he makes his way to his seat across from me.
“Papa,” I murmur, offering a small smile.
A maid sets two steaming plates in front of us. For a moment, silence is broken only by the soft clink of cutlery as we focus on eating.
After a few bites I look up. He seems thinner, more weathered, a new tightness bracketing his eyes. He must be busy as it’s the only explanation I have for why he’s vanished since I announced the baby. Still, the thought needles me.
