Page 20 of Kidnapped & Bred By The BRATVA
My breath stutters, my body trembling under his touch.
He leans over me, his forehead pressed to mine, his voice a growl that curls into my bones. “You think I won’t love you when you change? You think I won’t want you when you’re heavy with my child?” His hand squeezes my belly, almost reverent. “I’ll want you more. I’ll fuck you every night, slow and deep, until you forget what it feels like to be empty. Until you’ve come so hard, so much, you forget what it feels like not to be coming on my cock, on my face, on my fingers.”
A whimper slips from my throat, my hips shifting against the pillow involuntarily.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t thrust. Just stays buried inside me, thick and throbbing, while his words unravel me.
“I’ll worship you,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth across my cheek, my temple, my ear. “Every new curve, every change. Your breasts swelling, your hips softening. I’ll taste you, touch you, take you, and you’ll moan for me and know that you belong to me as much as I belong to you.”
My eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by the images his voice paints. Me, round and swollen, his hands on me, his cock inside me, his mouth claiming every inch.
He growls low. “I’ll keep you pregnant, krasivy. One after another. You’ll carry my sons, my daughters, and I’ll fill you again as soon as your body is ready.” His hand slides up to my throat, holding gently, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’ll never go a season without me inside you, making sure the world knows you’re mine.”
Tears sting my eyes, not of sadness or fear, but of something too big to contain. No one ever wanted me like this. Not forwho I could be molded into, not for how I could serve a man’s ambition. Butme.My body. My future. My everything.
And Roman wants it all.
“I can’t…” My voice cracks, but I don’t look away. “I can’t breathe when you talk like that.”
He kisses me, softer than his words, his lips lingering. “Breathe, Olivia. Breathe for me. You’ll need your strength when you’re carrying our child.”
I gasp, a shaky laugh slipping free despite the heat in my belly. “You’re insane.”
“Insane for you,” he counters without hesitation.
His hips shift just slightly, reminding me that he’s still inside me, still keeping me full. “Now stay just like this. Pillow under your hips. My seed deep where it belongs. Don’t move until I tell you. Until I’ve made you come again, until I’ve filled you again.”
I nod, too undone to argue as he begins to rock his pelvis again, one hand reaching between us and finding my clit, the other bracing him over me.
This time it’s slow. The press of his thumb keeping me on the edge while his cock hits the spot inside me that makes me feel like I might spontaneously combust. He sucks my nipple into his mouth, the sensation making my back arch, and bites lightly before moving to the other and doing the same.
“These beautiful tits will get so big and heavy… leaking milk… so fucking sexy.” His words are grunts now as his pace picks up. His thumb presses a little harder, a little more erratically and I’m propelled over the abyss, my pussy clamping tight around him as he follows me over the edge, filling me with his hot cum again.
Roman lies down beside me, one arm caging me in, his other hand spread wide over my stomach. He watches me like a man watches treasure, hungry, protective, obsessed.
Roman
The fire in me should be out by now. I’ve had her, again and again, filled her until she screamed my name and my balls ached from the constant demand, marked every inch of her skin as mine. But lying here in the dark, her head on my chest, my cock still heavy between her thighs, I know the hunger won’t ever end.
She shifts against me, her fingers tracing the ink on my ribs, quiet for a long while. Then, softly, almost like she’s talking to herself, she whispers, “We need to do something about that infernal dress.”
I turn my head, catching the faintest curve of her mouth in the lamplight. “The wedding gown?”
Her nod brushes against my chest. “It feels like it’s watching me. Like it’s waiting to remind me I was never supposed to have a choice.” Her hand presses against me, steady now, firm. “I don’t want to see it again, Roman. Not ever.”
Something sharp twists in my chest. Rage, yes, at the thought of that dress being stitched for her to play the obedient little pawn. But pride too, because she isn’t that pawn anymore.
“Then we’ll burn it,” I tell her simply.
Her head tips back, eyes wide. “Burn it?”
I grin, feral. “What else do you do with ghosts?”
Minutes later we’re pulling on clothes, the night air cold against our skin as we leave the mansion. I drag the gown behindme, its white folds dull in the moonlight. She walks beside me, her steps small but steady, her fingers brushing mine with every stride.
The gardens are silent, the fountain at the far end of the path long dried and cracked. It hasn’t held water in years, just weeds and dust. But tonight it will hold something else.
I toss the dress into the basin. It lands in a heap, satin and lace spilling like entrails. Olivia stares down at it, her arms folded tight against herself.
