Page 55 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva
He doesn’t stop immediately. He continues to lick, his tongue searching every crevice of my pussy until my body jerks.
“Adrian, please. I can’t—”
He slams his lips over mine, and I taste myself on his tongue. His hand palms my breasts and flicks my nipple with one rough finger.
“Can you taste yourself?” he growls into my mouth. “The sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had.”
I moan again, and he jerks away from me, as if realizing himself. He’s breathing hard, a man possessed. I just had an orgasm, but I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
“Next time,” he breathes, “you’ll beg me to fuck you, not just with my mouth.” His words hold a challenge. “But for now, put on that fucking dress, Jennie, before I change my mind.”
With one final glance, he pushes out of the bathroom.
Chapter 12 – Adrian
I go to the guest room bathroom and splash water on my face, gripping the edges of the sink like it might hold me together. My pulse is still erratic, my mouth still warm from the taste of her heat. I stare at myself in the mirror, water dripping down my jaw. I need to get it together.
I force myself to breathe. Deep. Controlled. Cold.
By the time I’m back in the bedroom, I’ve dressed in a black suit—tailored, precise, and sharp enough to kill. No tie. Just open collar and clean lines. I want to look like myself again. Not a man coming undone over a woman he already owns.
I take another deep breath and head into the hall, walking briskly toward the bedroom, ready to drag Jennie out if that’s what it takes. But before I reach the door, it creaks open.
Jennie steps out.
I go still. My hand drops to my side. I don’t move. I just look.
The crimson silk hugs every inch of her. The dress dips low across her chest, clings to her waist, and flows like liquid fire down her legs. Her hair is messy—still tousled from earlier, from me. She’s not even wearing much makeup, but she looks like a fucking goddess.
My throat tightens.
“You’re going to kill me.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, rough and low.
She tilts her chin, that stubborn fire in her eyes again. “Good.”
She walks right past me like I don’t have her name carved into my bones.
I clench my jaw and follow. Of course, I follow. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me.
Or maybe she does, and that’s the problem.
We step out into the evening air, and I open the front door for her. She walks ahead of me, and I follow closely, my eyes taking her in all over again. That dress is going to be the death of me.
“You look devastating tonight,” I murmur, low enough that it’s just for her. “Red suits you. Makes you look like sin wrapped in silk.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I catch the way her shoulders shift, the faint curl of her fingers at her sides. I step up beside her, let my hand skim the small of her back as we descend the steps.
“I wasn’t sure the dress would fit perfectly,” I add, letting my gaze sweep her again, deliberately. “But damn, Jennie…it looks like it was made for your body. Every inch of it.”
She turns her head, flustered. “Stop.”
“Why?” I smirk, amused by the way her cheeks turn that deep, warm shade of pink. I just ate her out in the bathtub. I’m not sure why she’s blushing so deeply at my compliment, but it makes my heart flutter in a way it never has before. “You blush like that and expect me to stop? Not happening.”
She glares at me, half-embarrassed and half-ready to shove me into a wall again. I fucking love it.
“Adrian….”
