Page 24 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

I grab Arya by the waist and swing her around into my lap. As she kisses me, I slide my seat back as far as it will go.

This kiss is fire. It’s quick-moving and destructive. We both know what we want, so there’s no need to draw it out.

Arya slides her arms out of the dress, letting her breasts bounce free, and I palm them both as I roll my hips against her.

I’m ready. Beyond ready.

My erection is stiff against my zipper. When Arya slides it down and frees me, I growl into her kiss.

It’s a tight fit with both of us in the front seat, but she shoves her panties aside and slides onto me like her life depends on it.

I bury myself in her to the hilt.

“Fucking hell, Arya. You’re impossible. Goddamn unreal.”

Her dress is little more than a band around her stomach now, and I grab hold of the soft flesh of her hips and spear myself into her.

We shouldn’t be doing this here, much less at all, but there’s no way I can stop it now. No way I can cut this short.

I need the release. God, do I need it.

Arya leans back, hands on the ceiling and rolls her body against me slowly, working herself on my length.

“Fuck,” I growl. “Motherfucking fuck.”

“Does that feel good?” she purrs, doing it again, her flat stomach tensing and curling with the motion.

Later, this memory will hurt like hell. But right now, it’s fucking heaven. I might as well make the most of it.

I grip Arya around the waist and thrust into her hard. Our bodies slap together, the sound echoing in the car, though it’s quickly drowned out by Arya’s cry.

“Right there, Dima,” she gasps. “God, give me more, I’m begging you.”

I do it again and again, driving into her until her mouth is hanging open, her eyes are squeezed shut, and her body is convulsing on top of me and around me.

I can feel the pulsing of her body. I’ve never enjoyed someone else’s pleasure so much in my life.

When she’s done, she collapses forward onto my chest and nuzzles her face against my neck. She bites the skin beneath my ear and kisses me.

As her orgasm fades, she regains movement and picks up speed again. She slides herself up and down and up and down along my aching length.

I want to let go. I want to release.

But I know that, once I do, this moment will be over.

And I’m not sure what comes next.

So long as we’re together like this, I know where we stand. I know what I want. I know whatshewants.

But once she’s back in the passenger seat, I don’t know what she wants from me.

All I’ll know is what she needs.

I’m doing what Arya needs right now. Not the sex—although, based on her moans, she needs that, too.

No, this mission—killing D’Onofrio, getting Ilyasov’s army, taking back my Bratva—is what Arya needs.

Because I will be able to protect her and Lukas. The sooner I can show that to her, the sooner she sets aside this idea of hopping on a plane and running away. The sooner she realizes she belongs to me…

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