Page 81 of The Bratva King

“You did it yourself.”

“Yes.”

His fingers trail over my tummy and then lower. Teasing me. I reach down and grab his hand.

“Touch me, please.”

“I am touching you.”

“You know what I mean.”

He leans down and sucks my nipple into his mouth. And then he finally touches me. His index fingertip slides down my slit. I hold my breath. His fingertip glides lower, parting me with deliberate slowness. I gasp as he finds where I need him.

“Look at you,” Nikolai murmurs against my breast. “All this for me.”

He circles my clit with his thumb while his middle finger slides inside me, thick and hard. I arch off the bed, and a broken sound tears from my throat. He doesn’t rush. He works me with patient strokes, curling his finger just right while his thumb keeps pressure exactly where it hurts in the best way.

“You’re tight, baby.” He lifts his head so his eyes lock on mine. “So fucking tight. Can you take another?”

I whimper. “Yes.”

He pushes a second finger inside me.

“Come on my fingers, Gabby. I want to feel it.”

Heat floods my face, but I can’t look away. My hips roll against his hand. He growls. “That’s it. Use my hand. Show me how badly you need it. I’ve got you.”

The second finger stretches me wider. It stings so good. The rhythm builds, relentless but controlled, until my body is shaking. I’m making whimpers and half-formed pleas. He keeps talking me through it.

“There it is. Don’t hold it back. Come on my fingers, baby.”

The pressure snaps. Pleasure crashes through me in a white-hot wave. I cry out, back bowing, my legs snapping closed around his hand. He works me through every pulse until I’m boneless and gasping his name.

Only then does he ease his fingers free, bringing them to his mouth without breaking eye contact. He licks them clean, slowly, like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says quietly. “We’re not done yet.”

I can’t see straight. “I did it,” I murmur.

“I did it. And I’m going to do it again.”

He slides off the bed. I watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he unbuttons his shirt. Thank God. I want to see this man naked. He opens it, and I’m blessed with a fantastic view of his chest. Not surprisingly, it’s covered in more tattoos. If I could focus, I’d try to make out what they all are.

But I can’t focus because he’s taking off his pants. The tattoos disappear under the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Hurry,” I murmur. And then I laugh, because I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

He pushes off his briefs, and I rub my legs together. The sexy V and flat abs decorated with ink are pure eye candy. His erection stands loud and proud.

He stalks toward me. He’s unashamed of his body. He has nothing to be ashamed of.

He climbs on the bed and stretches out on his back, fluffing the pillow under his head.

I watch him, wondering if we’re done.

“Sit on my face.”

The blood rushes straight to my cheeks. “Absolutely not.”