Page 106 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

But he takes me with him. He stays inside me the entire time.

And then I’m on top of him, gripping his hips with my thighs.

I buck against him and he watches me as I start to experiment. I go slow, getting my bearings first as I ride him.

He’s so deep inside me that I feel as though he’s in my stomach, pressing all the way up into my heart.

Words rip out of me from someplace deep inside. “I want to give you everything,” I whisper.

I start riding him harder, more intensely. His face tenses in restrained pleasure. His breathing is labored. The sight of him writhing beneath me spurs me on.

Aleks slides his hand between us and finds my clit. He teases me until I’m squirming on top of him. Until I’m shivering with need and anticipation. All it takes is the slightest change of pressure for me to see stars.

I close my eyes and arch my back. A long, drawn-out moan escapes my lips as the orgasm rolls through me like a riptide.

Aleks sits up and wraps his arms around me. Our heat melds together. I stare into his eyes and grind my hips into him until I feel him fill me up inside as he growls through slightly parted lips.

“Kiska…”

“F-f-fuck,” I moan.

Again and again, he fills me until he has nothing left. When we’re both finished coming, he pulls me back down with him. My forehead comes to rest on his chest. He doesn’t hold me, but he lets me lie there until I feel steady enough to dismount.

When I finally do, my whole body tingles. I find the sheets and slip under them, still not ready to reach for my clothes.

Aleks doesn’t mind being on display. He stands up and walks over to the refrigerator hidden behind a cupboard door. He pulls out two glass bottles and walks back to the bed.

I see a beer in his hand and start to remind him I can’t drink before he holds the second bottle out for me. My eyes go wide when I realize it’s lemonade. Not just any lemonade, but my favorite brand.

“How did you know?”

He shrugs. “I pay attention.”

He gets into bed with me and takes a swig of his beer. We sit there in silence for a few minutes, enjoying our drinks and reveling in the aftermath of our respective orgasms.

“Do you want to talk about what happened today?” he asks without looking over at me.

“There’s nothing to talk about really,” I mumble. “It went badly.”

“Robert didn’t take Jennifer’s appearance well, I take it.”

“He did not.”

“Did he at least hear her out?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I think that just made it worse.”

“Only because he couldn’t still cling to the narrative he’d built in his head.”

“He’s still in love with her.”

He rolls his eyes. “That was his mistake. Hers, too, now that I think about it.”

“You can’t control who you love,” I snap back.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says, taking another sip of his beer. “Love isn’t just something that happens to a person. You have a choice.”

I stiffen. “Is that why you’ve never been in love?”

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