Page 253 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

I don’t move at all for a few seconds. I just sit there on him, his cock buried inside me, and I wait for my pussy walls to stop clenching so hard around him.

When I can finally catch my breath again, I place my hands on his hard chest and bend down a little so that I can press my face in his neck. I breathe his musk in like a drug.

Then I start moving slowly, taking my time, riding him gently and building momentum as we go.

He lies back and lets me, watches me.

It took a long time for him to relinquish control. To let me do this—control the movement, the pace, the rhythm.

I’ll always loving giving all that up to him. Letting him own me completely—mind, body, and soul.

But this is good, too, when the time is right.

And right now, the time issofucking right.

I know he feels the same. Artem’s expression thick with lust.

But there’s also another emotion there. One that I can’t quite put my finger on.

I’m too fucking distracted to worry about what else on his mind, though, so I just keep riding him until my legs burn with fatigue.

When my movements start to slow, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. They’re so sensitive now that the feel of Artem’s tongue engulfing them makes me moan and shudder with a little more urgency.

Then he holds my hips in place and starts ramming into me hard from below. I choke back a cry, my eyes going wide with shock at the strange and deliberate urgency with which he fucks me.

His eyes are intense as he rams into me from below, forcing me to bounce on his cock. I grab ahold of his shoulders and cling on tight as he stabs through me, sending what feels like electric shocks straight to my heart.

His jaw clench fiercely—almost angrily—and his hands grow tighter around my hips.

I know he’s seconds away from coming.

The sight of him coming undone pushes me off the edge first. The orgasm gushes through me with violent force. It’s as angry and fierce as he is.

Sure enough, he comes right after me. I stay on top of him as he rides out his own shockwaves.

When he stills, I swing one leg off him and fall to his side, nestling myself in the crook of his arm so that my head rests comfortably against his shoulder.

Artem’s eyes fix on the ceiling above.

This has been happening for a few days now, I realize suddenly—as if I’m just now connecting the dots.

He falls into deep silences that make me feel like I’m alone in the cabin.

His smiles come a little less easily. And when they do come, there’s a sad tilt to the set of his mouth, a muted tone to the glint in his eye.

I’ve been trying hard to place why this sudden change has come over him, but I’ve only managed to come to one conclusion: this peaceful life in the mountains is starting to wear on him.

Especially knowing that he has responsibilities elsewhere.

I know he’s here for me, to protect me.

But I’m not naïve enough to believe that that’s enough for him in the long run. He’s not the type of man to run from his duties, and the Bratva has been his entire life.

I turn to my side and caress the side of his face, forcing him to meet my gaze.

“Hey.”

He smiles. Again, I see it, the sad tilt to his lips, the worried ebb and flow of his eyes.

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