Page 73 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

Whoa.

He tears himself away, his dark eyes looking black in the subdued light, wild, accusing. Like I was the one who danced him in here and kissed him. Our gazes are like a dare.

You first.

No, you.

My whole body burns with it. The knowledge of the only thing I can do—bring my lips back where they belong.

And when our lips hit this time, I understand this too: there will be no going back.

There can be no slowing down what has been started—lips entwining, fingers racing over each other, ripping off clothes.

Stumbling to the bed like it’s a race, rubbing our bareness over each other.

My breasts and belly and all of me reveling in the hardened glory of him, like an instrument carved to perfection.

Of course I’m wet as hell. Of course I’m trembling for him. His hand runs over my hair approvingly. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

Now, pressed together, our bodies slow down. His lips drag down my collarbone and further, sucking around a nipple. Sensation explodes down my front. His tongue whirls on it as my hands rake through his hair.

“Fucking yes …” I’m losing track of what I’m doing, groaning with the sensation. And it feels. So. Fucking. Good.

His hardness presses in between my legs.Yes. He climbs on top of me, holding my arms above my head, and then, looking down at me—“You’re mine. Mine!”his eyes say—he thrusts inside of me.

As all of me screams with it, the final, glorious satisfaction, I know. He’s damn right.

Gavril Vaknin owns me already—mind, body, and soul.

It feels so good that I can only lie there and whimper as he thrusts into me, over and over again. It’s pure sensation as he moves me from one position to the next.

“You like that?” he growls.

“Yes, please,” is all I can say. “More.”

And “more” is exactly what he gives to me.

Hard and fast. Faster and harder. Rough and rougher and rougher. “More” with my legs akimbo, my feet propped up on his chest. “More” from behind, with my torso collapsing with the frenetic pleasure of it.

“More” until I’m screaming with it, overtaken by it, shaking with it, and finally, delivered by it into my own wailing orgasm. And yet, that isn’t enough for Gavril. My highest of highs, he takes higher, slamming into me until everything is red and hot and all I know.

This pleasure. This oh-fuck-yes.

Then I’m balanced on the peak, higher than ever before. Something’s spilling into me, releasing.

And then it’s over and I’m being held.

And then even that is over, too.

So is my life as I know it.

17

Joy

I awake cold and aching. The sheets I’m in are too cool, too soft. And as for the aches … I sit up straight in bed.

Last night did not happen, did it? Last night was just a hot dream of Gavril ravaging my body. Nothing more.

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