Page 234 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

I except him to hoist me into his arms and carry me into the cabin. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls me further away from the cabin—right to the smooth stump of a tree that he’d chopped for wood to fuel the fireplace.

I feel the bark brush against the backs of my bare thighs before Artem pushes me backwards. I yelp in surprise, but then my ass lands on the stump with anoof.

Artem is on me in an instant. He pushes my legs apart, his fingers twisting in my hair as he pulls my head back.

I moan against him, right into his open-mouthed kiss. I’m trembling with want as I bite down on his lower lip.

The bite is a little harder than I intended. In fact, I feel the warm trickle of blood. Artem rears back in surprise.

But his dark eyes are equal parts surprised and turned on.

“So you like it rough, huh, mountain woman?” he asks teasingly.

“Is that what you’d call rough?” I fire back with a wild grin. “I’ve told you before: I’m stronger than you think.”

Some deep, carnal passion ignites in his eyes.

Before I can correctly name it, he yanks me hard by one arm off the tree stump. Then he spins me around so that my back is to him and immediately shoves me right back over onto my elbows.

His hands scrabble against the hem of my dress. He flips it up, yanks down my panties, and then delivers one hard spank—real fucking hard, actually—to each cheek.

The burn sizzles even as he rubs the pain away.

And between my thighs is a puddle of need.

“Is this what you want?” Artem growls.

Fuck, when his voice gets that deep and rough around the edges…

“More,” I gasp, even though I’m not sure how much more I can take. “I wantmorethan that.”

I hear a growl, low in his throat. Pure animal. Pure lust. Pure man.

I get that much wetter.

There’s a tiny lull. The rustling of fabric—Artem pushing his shorts down, maybe? But when I try to look back, I feel instead his fingers seize the roots of my hair and press my face down roughly against the smooth top of the tree stump.

I moan. “I want to see you,” I whimper in a frail, desperate voice.

He doesn’t bother replying. Just spanks me again, harder than the first time.

I scream and try to wriggle away, but there’s nowhere to go. He has me pinned here, blinded, ass in the air. Vulnerable as it gets.

His cock teases against my opening. Just the very tip—pushing and retreating, pushing and retreating.

It’s fucking maddening.

“Artem!” I plead. He’s killing me slowly like this. I need more of him. All of him.

Or I might just fucking explode.

“Say my name again, baby,” he orders through gritted teeth.

I don’t hesitate for even a second. Just a string of whimpers: “Artem, Artem, Artem…”

“Beg me to fuck you.”

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