Page 69 of Bratva Queen

Flashes erupted behind my eyelids, and heat gathered in my pussy before it crept upward and exploded in my belly. Themoment I cried out and came, Kristoff ripped himself from my convulsing pussy.

He pulled me from the table and pushed me back onto the big, plush couch. I dropped onto my back, arms and legs wide, when he positioned his cock at my pussy and thrust forward. The force sent me deep into the couch, my hands pushing into the velvet to brace myself. Kristoff’s hips slapped against my ass while he pushed my legs wider apart.

Pleasure rippled through my core as his cock went deeper. I couldn’t believe I’d denied myself this for so long. The pleasure inside of me went up and up, reaching a boiling point, and I couldn’t even remember what we had been arguing about.

He stroked in and out of my spasming pussy, until finally settling into a slower rhythm and I could catch my breath. Then he pulled out and sat up, his eyes roaming over my body.

“Get on my cock, baby. I want to taste your tits.”

On shaky legs, I straddled his thighs. Kristoff raised his hips and yanked me down. I yelped as I got speared on his dick.

He caught a nipple between his teeth. He sucked at one, nibbled it, and then went to the other.

“Put your hands on my shoulders and ride me.”

He sucked and ravaged my nipples as I rode him. His forehead was creased with tension. I placed a gentle kiss on his lips as he powered into my body from beneath me.

He hammered into me and I went slick around him once more. I moaned as my orgasm crashed over my whole body, while Kristoff rode my pussy hard.

His entire body went tense, then with a guttural roar, he dropped his forehead to my shoulder.

Mindless, numbing pleasure rolled over me, expanding my universe, until I quivered from being satiated.

Kristoff gently pulled me off of him, and tucked his dick back into his pants. Then he took me down with him to lay onour backs.. It took a while before I was able to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.

I rose onto my elbows. “I’m still not going back with you. I told you I needed time.”

He loomed over me now like a dark prince of the night.

“Another man had his lips on you.” His voice was guttural, and if I hadn’t known him so well, I would have feared for my life.

“Yeah, well, you lied to me!” Tears sprang to my eyes and I furiously wiped them away. The mind-obliterating fog of lust that had hazed my brain was slowly receding.

Kristoff’s look was impassive. I hated it. But I hated nothing more than his silence. I wanted to reel at him, make him lose that icy cool he was famous for.

I pushed at his muscular chest. “Why didn’t you tell me, dammit!”

“What would you have done if I had told you?”

I barked a pained laugh. Was he kidding? “I would have found the son of a bitch who killed my mom and made him pay.”

“You’d want revenge, your pound of flesh.”

“Of course I would!”

He draped his body on top of me. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. When his finger caressed my skin, I closed my eyes in pain.

“My life started again the day you barged into it,” he said. “Before then, I wasn’t living, I was merely existing. Ever since I found my mother dead, I’d been moving in a twilight, a dead zone, hardly aware that my heart beat. Then suddenly you were there, and a light penetrated the darkness that had been shrouding me. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way I began to long for your warmth. It warmed me more than the fires that forged me in the coldest Siberian winter.”

Tears freely streamed down my cheeks now and my shoulders shook. I ached for him, for myself, and for my mother whose life was cut too short.

He stroked my cheek. “I would never want you to become hellbent on revenge, or to make it your life’s mission.” There was a silence for a beat. “I’d never want you to become me.”

I pushed his hand away. “That wasn’t your choice to make.”

Kristoff Romanov was a beautiful dark prince, but I was no defenseless princess looking to be rescued.

“Your mother’s killer is dead, but he has a son. The son has two kids of his own,” he said, capturing my gaze. “Some say he was there when your mother died. Do you want to kill him? If I’d believe for one second that you’d be able to look him in the eye and pull the trigger and not feel any regret, I would give you my own gun. I swear on my blood, Ekaterina, tell me that would give you peace, and I will deliver the son to you myself. I vow it.”

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