Page 12 of Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet 2)

I hug Viktor’s head to my chest, clawing at his silky hair, and roll my hips again and again.

Viktor’s large hands spread out on my back as I lean away from him to get better leverage. He tips forward and sucks my breast into his mouth, his lips soft even while his teeth nip and tug and punish. I cry out from the cacophony of sensations. From the pain and pleasure and warmth even as goose bumps shoot down my arms. It’s more than I’ve ever felt, and Viktor was right, I’m safe.

I can feel it with him. A perfect bubble around us, protecting us from the rest of the world in a way I’ve never experienced before.

My legs start to shake with the beginnings of my climax, and Viktor tips me back, back, back until I’m lying down and he is over me. His elbow presses into the mattress on one side while his other hand explores the topography of my body. While he brushes my nipple and strokes my waist and grips my hip.

I bring my knees up and wrap my legs around him as he dives into me again and again, and when my orgasm comes, I bury my face in his shoulder, clinging to him with all of the strength I have left.

He falls not long after, his lips pressed to my neck, whispering words I can’t hear but can feel. They are his vows. His wicked, wretched vows, whispered in the throes of passion, and they mean more to me than anything he said in front of the witnesses.

When he is done thrusting, and his weight presses down on me, I curl my finger around his square jaw and draw his lips up to mine. Against his mouth, I whisper my own wretched vows.

I give him the only thing I have left to give: my trust.

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