Page 71 of Forced By an Obsessive Bratva Stalker

She drew closer, and her nails dragged along my chest, her whines frantic and uneven. Her thighs trembled against my sides, her eyes never leaving mine.

A guttural growl signaled my second arrival, but she wouldn’t have it.

“No, no, no, no, don’t come yet,” she said, her tone laced with a warning. “I’m close…so close.” Her rhythm broke, eyes rolling back with quivering lips. “Almost there—almost there—” Her voice was strangled, her face twisted in pleasure.

I held it on even though everything about her had driven me to my breaking point—the sound of her stifled moan, her strangled voice, and the sexy expression on her face.

The longer I held her gaze, the more difficult it was to hold back my release. I hit her harder from underneath, impatiently waiting for her to come first.

Thankfully, she did.

Her dam shattered within the next few seconds. “Uhhhh…fuuccckkkk!” she cried out, arching her back as her warm squirt soaked my groin.

This was my cue, but I was too deep inside her to pull out. My hips bucked, and I pushed even deeper while filling her up with my essence. Our pleasured cries echoed off the walls as we came at the same time.

Her pussy closed around me, accepting every single drop of my load. My dick, now slack, was wrapped in her wetness—her juice—as waves of satisfaction washed over me.

Exhausted, she collapsed on my chest, her breathing coming in labored gasps. I threw my arms around her and held on tightly like she’d disappear if I let go.

Our hearts beat as one, and in that moment, I knew for sure I was never letting her go. Never.

She belonged to me now.

Only me.

Chapter 21 – Aria

It happened again. We fucked.

I hadn’t meant to lose control the way I did. But it was as though there was something about him that pulled me in like a moth to a flame. I had tried to resist him, but I failed woefully in my attempt.

Why was I so attracted to the man who was responsible for changing the trajectory of my life? Why did I find him so irresistible despite how much I claimed to hate him?

Why did his touch always ignite a fire within me—one I usually had no control over? He told me what was going to happen if I didn’t push him away. Yet, I refused to do that. I refused to reject him, knowing full well that he’d definitely leave me alone if I did.

I was already turned on at the time, and all I wanted was to feel him deep inside me again. My craving for him clouded my judgment. And although a part of me felt guilty for making the same mistake twice, the other part was glad that I did.

Rodion’s magical touch breathed life into every dead cell in my body, a reminder that sex with him was more therapeutic than I would ever admit. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed his kisses and caresses until I was in his arms again.

I couldn’t understand what had come over me—what had prompted me to go down on him and take his dick in my mouth. Despite my shame and guilt, I couldn’t deny the fact that I enjoyed every moment of it.

Deep down, I felt the need to repay him for the service of making me come with just oral sex. I wanted to prove that I was also good with my mouth and my hands.

But why? Why did I feel the urge to prove myself to the man who kidnapped me and had me locked up in his mansion? Why did I allow myself to get lost in the heat of the moment?

I had sucked his dick with everything in me, hoping that my skills would please him. The sound of his guttural groans, the expressions on his face, and the way his muscles contrasted told me I’d done a fantastic job.

An inexplicable sense of satisfaction washed over me when I made him come with just my hands and my mouth. Watching him shudder as he ejaculated made my pussy tingle and nipples hard.

Sliding his hard, veiny cock into my wet entrance was more satisfying than the meal I’d had earlier that evening. I felt it deep inside me. So fuckin’ deep. He fondled my boobs like an experienced man who knew the exact amount of pressure to apply when squeezing a woman’s breasts for pleasure.

He let me ride that night, let me take the lead as he surrendered beneath me. I was in control of the whole thing, including the timing of his arrival.

I recalled how much he’d struggled to hold back his release after I asked him not to come yet. His face was a mask of pleasure, and his legs were already shaking, ready to fill me up. But I wasn’t there yet, and he had to wait.

As small as it was, it was a sign of selflessness—proof that he didn’t care only about satisfying himself. He had my satisfaction at heart as well.

I’d watched him hold it back in, his face twisted in a way that exposed his struggles. Still, his eyes bored into mine, and I savored every expression he wore.