Page 142 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

Instead, she twists around and pushes me onto my back.

And then she straddles me.

She looks so fucking sexy, so confident, so powerful.

A queen.

Myqueen.

Her breasts push together as her hands run down my torso. My cock is pressed against her slit and pre-cum gleams on the tip.

I expect her to lean in and kiss me, but instead, she sinks lower down my body and licks the drop of pre-cum away.

I moan as her fingers play with my balls while her tongue flicks over my cock, teasing and massaging in circular motions.

Once she’s done playing with me, she slips the tip of my cock into her mouth and I close my eyes involuntarily.

It’s the first time her sweet, wet little mouth has been wrapped around my cock and it’s even more transformative than I could have imagined.

She takes her time, sucking slowly on my cock while her hand works the base. Then she starts picking up speed, and I feel myself slide deeper and deeper into her mouth.

When I hit the back of her throat, I moan with pleasure, my body wrung tight with desire as she swallows my cock.

I can feel my orgasm start to peak, but I don’t want this to end. I want it to stretch on and on until I forget my own fucking name.

She takes me right to the edge, devouring me whole, stripping away my pain and my past, until there’s nothing left but the two of us, holed up in our little bubble.

I think she’s going to suck me off until I explode, but then she pulls her mouth away with a soft pop.

Before I can recover, she’s straddling me again.

I watch my cock sink into her pretty little pussy.

I grab her hips as she rides me hard, her boobs bouncing in my face.

I grit my teeth and slam my hips up into her until her back arches and she starts moaning.

She keeps moving, too, creating delicious, wet friction between us until I’m close to losing control of my own orgasm.

Esme is right there with me.

“Artem, you’re going to make me come,” she whimpers as she rides me, her hair flying wildly against her face while drops of perspiration glitter on her breasts.

I slam into her.

One, two, three hard thrusts.

And then I feel her blow up, her body shivering as the orgasm washes over her.

I let myself go in the second after her.

And in that sweaty, passion fueled moment, I do forget my own name. But the name of this woman—my captive, my wife, the last thing my father ever gave to me—remains on my lips.

Esme.

Esme.

Esme.

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