Page 44 of British Bratva: A Russian Mafia Romance

I wasn’t so far off.

Too long there had been too much space between us, too many reasons why I had to hold myself back. But that was over now. There was nothing holding us apart, and all I needed was to make sure she knew she was mine.

CHAPTER 18

Elizabeth

I groaned against his lips when Maxim’s hot tongue pressed into my mouth, and I opened wider to let him plunder me. Gripping onto him, up against the wall, I had to turn my head away to find the room to breathe.

He was all over me, and I loved it.

All those nights he must have watched me like some kind of guardian angel keeping me safe, but when he’d swooped in, he’d let me take my own revenge and I loved him for it. I’d known I wanted him since I saw him loitering on the doorstep of the opposite building. There was nothing holding me back now.

His lips went to my throat and his teeth tracked bluntly into my flesh, making me cry out and arch my body into him. Maybe I should have pulled away, but I didn’t want to. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than for him to have me.

After tonight, I wanted to be a woman in every way it was possible to be, but more than that, I wanted him to take my virginity the way I knew he’d been aching to for weeks. I couldn’t get the image of him bursting into the office with a gun in his hand out of my head, and it had excited me more than I could admit.

But right now, I didn’t have to admit anything at all. My body was doing all the talking.

When he pressed against me, I was desperate to grind myself against him. I’d never known how much I hated clothes. They were in the way, and I wanted them all gone. I needed there to be nothing between us. Even the air was too much. But my fingers had turned stupid, and I was tugging at his shirt buttons hard enough that one of them pinged off.

Maxim let out an animal roar, and he pulled the rest of the shirt off himself, buttons pinging everywhere as he yanked his hands free of the sleeves. Large, rough palms were everywhere on my skin, pushing my top up over my head. Then he was kissing and biting at my chest, cupping my breasts in his hands as I clung to him.

The scarring on his side was unmistakable. There were mottled patches all along his chest where the tissue was gnarled and marbled and my fingers found their way to every pitted groove of him.

“Maxim make me yours.”

He tugged at the top of my sports bra and I heard it tear and buzz as he ripped it clean in two in the struggle to get it off me, leaving me suddenly topless. I didn’t care. He’d seen me already, and I loved the way he cupped my breasts, touching them like he couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t believe he was getting the chance.

I shared the feeling. I was already trying to work the button of his fly undone, but the strain of his enormous erection pressing against the denim was almost too much for me to fight against.

He had to be in agony. And it was driving me crazy not to have him up against me skin to skin.

When I finally managed to undo his fly, he groaned and the metal zip that had been pressing itself into him worked its way open without me even having to touch it.

His cock sprang at me, pushing its way out, straining the black cotton of his boxers. I couldn’t believe the size of him, the solid, heaviness that bowed under its own weight as his jeans slumped to the floor. He toed his shoes off, kicking out of them and letting his boxers slip down over his hips.

Fully naked, he was more impressive than anything I could have imagined. He put the statues of Greek gods in the British Museum to shame.

My eyes widened as I took in the sight of his cock, bobbing flat against his taut stomach, straining red and angry at the head. I had no idea how he was going to fit inside me, but I was already reaching to stretch my hand around him at the thought.

He grunted low and grabbed my wrist like my touch was too much to bear.

And then he was pulling me hard against him by the belt loops and he cupped his palm over the hot mound of my sex, making me shift my hips against the friction. I could feel how wet I was, drenching my knickers. His large hands pulled my fly open helping me shed my pants like he was a kid ripping off the wrapping paper on Christmas morning.

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