Page 137 of The Bratva King

“Fuck me, Nik. Hurry.”

He obeys, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into me. A broken cry tears from my throat. He sets a brutal rhythm, each thrust hitting the perfect spot inside me.

“Yes,” I moan.

“Look at me,” he says. “You’re taking me so well, baby.”

He pulls his hand from my throat, grips my hips, and fucks me hard and fast. The sound of our bodies slapping together fills the room, the wet, obscene sounds of my arousal coating his cock with every thrust.

“Nikolai,” I pant, my body tightening around him. “I’m going to come again.”

“Good,” he growls. “Come on my cock, baby. I want to feel you.”

His words push me over the edge. The first wave hits hard enough to steal my breath. My body locks around him, my pussy clenching tight with every pulse. I cry out as the pleasure rolls through me.

“Fuck, Gabby. I can feel you coming apart around me.”

I cling to his shoulders, shaking beneath him while he keeps driving into me. A rough sound escapes him. His rhythm falters, each thrust turning harder, less controlled. His grip tightens on my hips as he fights to hold on. Then he drives into me once more and stills deep inside me as his release pulses.

Then he remains inside me, resting his forehead against mine as his breathing slowly steadies.

“I want you in my bed,” he says.

“I am in your bed.”

He slides off me. “Tomorrow. And the next day. The day after that.”

“We’ll see. Let’s start with tonight.”

“Good.” His hand settles on my hip, but the warmth leaves his expression. “There’s something you need to know.”

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.

“What is it?”

He’s quiet for several seconds. I don’t try to fill the space.

“The Italians are escalating.”

A knot forms in my stomach. “What do you mean?”

“Before the bomb, Kylie saw a man watching Luke at the park.”

I can’t make sense of the words. “What?”

“We searched for him but didn’t find him. I put a guard on Luke and Kylie. He hasn’t shown up again.”

I jerk upright, clutching the sheet to my chest. “And you’re just telling me this now?”

His expression doesn’t change. “I handled it.”

“You handled it?” My voice rises. “Someone was watching my son, and you decided I didn’t need to know?”

“Gabby. Stop.”

“No.” I’m out of bed now, searching for my clothes. “You don’t get to decide what I need to know when it comes to Luke’s safety.”

“I’m telling you now,” he says. “You need to stop working. Stay here. Let the security team do their job.”