Page 21 of The Bratva's Sextuplets
The distinction is subtle but important. We can’t change the circumstances that brought us together, but we can choose how we respond to those circumstances. We can decide whether to treat tonight as duty to be endured or opportunity to be explored.
“Choose me, then.” I frame her face with both hands, noting how her breathing has become slightly unsteady. “Not because you have to, but because you want to see what happens when we stop fighting each other and start fighting together.”
“Choose you,” Zita repeats, and there’s something almost like wonder in her voice. “Not the man I was forced to marry, but the man you actually are when you’re not performing your role asBratvaheir.”
“I don’t know who that man is yet.” The admission feels dangerous but thrilling.
“Then let’s find out together.” She rises on her toes to close the distance between us. “Let’s see who we are when we’re just two people who happened to end up married to each other.”
When she kisses me, it’s nothing like the one at the altar. This kiss is exploratory, tentative, and genuine in ways that our previous interactions haven’t been. She tastes like champagne and someone discovering her new husband might be more complex than she expected.
I respond carefully, letting her set the pace and intensity rather than imposing my own agenda. I want her. I want her bad, but she needs to want me too.
When we break apart, she looks surprised by her own response. “That wasn’t too terrible.”
As she reaches for my bowtie, giving it a tug, I give a wry smile. “Your words could go to my head if you aren’t careful.”
She gives me a smile that seems genuine while reaching for my jacket, pushing it down my shoulders until I let it fall. I undo the cummerbund. “You know what I mean. It was better than I expected.” She gets busy unbuttoning my shirt next.
“Better than duty.” I trace the delicate line of her collarbone, noting how she shivers under my touch. “Better than performance.”
“Much better.” Upon finishing with my shirt, she begins working at my belt with hands that are steadier than mine. “I should warn you that I have no intention of being passive or grateful or any of the things wives are traditionally expected to be.”
“Good.” I help her with my remaining clothes, appreciating how she watches my body with frank curiosity rather than fear or resignation. “I have no intention of treating you like anything other than an equal.”
“Prove it.” The challenge in her voice is gentler than before, but still unmistakably present.
What follows is indeed more like combat than romance, but combat between equals rather than conquest. I begin mapping her body with my hands, starting at her shoulders and working downward with deliberate slowness. Her skin is warm and soft under my palms, but there’s strength underneath the feminine curves that speaks to someone who won’t be easily overwhelmed.
She doesn’t melt under my touch or become pliant. Instead, she mirrors my exploration, running her hands across my chest and shoulders. When I find a sensitive spot at the base of her throat that makes her breath catch, she immediately searches for similar places on my body, testing different pressures until she discovers what makes me tense under her touch.
“I want to learn what affects you,” she says, pressing her mouth to the hollow where my pulse beats visibly while she glides her hand over my chest, which is covered in tattoos that are meaningful to me personally and as abratvamember. “I want to know what makes you lose that control you’re so proud of.”
I slide my hands down her sides, noting how she arches into the contact rather than pulling away. When I cup her breasts, she makes a soft sound of approval and drags her nails down my back with enough pressure to leave marks. There’s nothing passive about her response, nothing that suggests she’s simply enduring my attention.
“You’re not like anyone I’ve been with before,” I say, circling my thumbs around her nipples and watching her face change with pleasure.
“How am I different?” She reaches between us to wrap her hand around my cock, and her grip is confident and sure.
“You’re demanding rather than submissive.” I have to pause to catch my breath as she explores my shaft with increasing boldness. “You’re challenging rather than accommodating.”
“I’m giving as much as I’m taking,” she says, moving her hand in a rhythm that makes my vision blur. “That’s what equals do.”
When I lift her and carry her to the bed, she doesn’t resist, but she doesn’t become passive either. She wraps her arms around my neck and captures my mouth in a kiss that’s hungry and demanding. I lay her back against the pillows, and she immediately pulls me down to cover her body with mine.
“I want to taste you,” I say against her throat, pressing kisses down her collarbone toward her breasts.
“Yes.” She threads her fingers through my hair, guiding me where she wants my mouth. “Then I get to return the favor.”
I take my time exploring her with my tongue and teeth, starting with her breasts before trailing my mouth farther down her body to learn what makes her gasp and arch beneath me. She’sresponsive and vocal, telling me what she likes and showing me with her movements what drives her wild. When I move lower, settling between her thighs, she watches me with eyes that are dark with desire but still sharp with intelligence.
“I bet you taste incredible,” I tell her before putting my mouth on her mound and swiping my tongue along her slit. Her tangy, slightly salty, and sweet flavor blooms on my tongue like a fine wine.
Her response is immediate and intense. She arches her back off the bed as I work her clit with focused attention. She fists her hands in the sheets and then in my hair, holding me exactly where she wants me while she moves against my mouth with increasing urgency.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and her voice is rough with need. “Right there.”
I focus on the spot just under the hood of her clit, which seems to be her most sensitive place. Alternating between licking, flicking, and sucking, I continue until she comes apart beneath my tongue, trembling with the force of her release. When she finally relaxes, she immediately reaches for me, pulling me up her body with hands that shake slightly from the aftermath.
