Page 13 of Bratva's Innocent Obsession
And his fingers rub over my clit.
I break. There’s a moment of bliss, of weightlessness at the top of a leap, then I fall.
And somehow, it rises again, a pulse that rolls over me unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
It’s pleasure down to my toes and up to where Kon is possessing my mouth as well as every other part of me.
“Fuck, you’re… I can’t…” I hear his strained words and a tortured groan as though from far away. Through the storm of my orgasm.
He’s even harder inside me, throbbing, heated. And I’m helpless to do anything but give in to the waves of pleasure.
7
KON
Taylor coming, clenching and bucking under me as she’s overtaken by her orgasm, is the best thing I’ve ever felt. Her pussy milks me, shoving me over the edge. I’m going to come with her.
Simultaneously, it triggers a cold shower of shocked realisation. She won’t be here tomorrow for whatever contraceptive Yevgeny planned.
I mustn’t spill inside her.
But the perfection of her spasming pussy gripping my cock and the sight of her face creased with pleasure makes stopping an impossibility.
With superhuman effort, I pull out of the heaven of Taylor’s body, grasp the head of my cock, intending to give an extra pump. But I needn’t have bothered.
Ecstasy explodes. The first white ribbon of my release sprays Taylor’s belly, pulsing from the base of my spine. The next I aim higher, over those sweet little tits of hers, my most savage needs taking over.
Mark her.
Mine.
I’ve let go of her hands to support myself, and I roar, a hulking monster over her as I paint her with the pearly evidence of my inability to control myself with this girl.
It’s primal, this need to claim her.
She stiffens, that languid post-orgasm high slipping away immediately, and I look up into her face. Her eyes are so pretty. Patterned pale-blue where mine are plain and almost grey. The only issue is, they’re wide with shock.
Because I held her down, fucked her, and then covered her with sticky ejaculate.
A barely formed thought forms at the back of my head. It’s so basic, it takes a moment to turn into words.
Mine. Taylor is mine. I should have filled her with my seed and made her pregnant. She should be mine in every way.
And what did I call her while I was balls-deep in her perfect, silky wet passage?
Zhizn moya. My life.
It fits. She’s everything to me.
That was intense. She needs aftercare.
But she also needs to escape alive, so sweet words and caresses will have to wait.
I need to be arrogant and a complete pain in the arse for this escape plan to work. The one thing that’s critical is that they don’t think I’m bothered by her, or certainly no more than as a toy. It’s been years since I’ve had a woman. After I arrived in London, the situation was too on-edge to risk allowing anyone close, physically or emotionally, even if I’d wanted to. Separating myself from her should be easy.
It’s like ripping out my heart with my own hands.
I force myself to stand, feeling like I’m made of stone and might shatter with every movement. The need to gather Taylor back into my arms and kiss her, tell her she’s my good girl and she did so well, is almost insurmountable.
