Page 8 of The Bratva Stalker and His Pregnant Bride

The pleasure is too intense, too fast, a violent wave of white-hot electricity that snaps my remaining control into a million pieces. My head thrashes against the pillows, my fingers clawing at the bedsheets as the tension tightens to a breaking point.

Within seconds, the dam breaks. A loud, breathless cry tears from my lungs as my body fractures into a violent, shaking orgasm, my tight muscles clenching desperately against his mouth as he drinks in every single drop of my release.

He lets out a dark, animalistic groan against my slick skin, his chest heaving violently as he drags himself back up the length of my body. His face is completely flushed, his jaw tight, and his striking blue eyes are wild, entirely consumed by a raw, primal hunger.

“I have to fuck you now, Ashley,” he rasps, his deep voice cracking with the sheer force of his need. “Right fucking now.”

He immediately moves to slide his weight off the mattress. Realizing he’s heading for his wallet for a condom, I reach out, my hand gripping his corded forearm. My voice is breathless, trembling from the aftershocks of the orgasm. “Samuel…wait. I’m clean.”

He freezes, his gaze locking onto mine. He studies my face for a single, heavy heartbeat, his chest expanding with a ragged breath. “I’m clean too,” he says, his tone dead serious, stripped of all playfulness. “My health is solid. Safe.”

I give him a tight, desperate nod.

We don’t speak another word. The time for talking is completely over.

Samuel climbs back over me with a terrifying, heavy grace. He grabs my right leg, lifting it effortlessly and draping it over his broad, tattooed shoulder, opening me up completely to his gaze. He positions the thick, heavy crown of his cock directly against my dripping entrance.

Slowly, deliberately, he begins to sink inside.

A loud, sharp cry tears from my throat as he stretches me to my absolute limit, the sheer size of him filling every single millimeter of my tight heat. I arch my back, my fingers clawing into the mattress as my body fights to accommodate the overwhelming fullness.

He pauses for a split second, burying himself deep, his eyes locking onto mine with absolute, unyielding possession.

“This is the only mercy you’re getting tonight, krasavitsa,” he growls darkly.

Then, he pulls back and drives straight back into me, establishing a hard, relentless pace.

“Look at you,” he gasps, a low, dirty growl ripping from his chest with every heavy, rhythmic thrust that slams his hips against mine. “You’re so tight, Ashley. Fucking screaming for me. Tell me how good this dick feels inside your perfect little body.”

I can barely form a coherent thought, let alone words, as he hits my sweet spot with a devastating precision that has me crying out his name over and over again.

“Take it all,” he commands, his voice a rough, dominant whisper against my ear as his hands grip my waist to anchor his brutal, deep strokes. “Wrap those tight walls around me. You’re mine tonight. Every single drop of this is mine.”

He doesn’t slow down. If anything, the pace becomes more brutal, more consuming, his heavy thrusts driving me deeper and deeper into the mattress.

I’ve already come twice—once from his mouth and once since he plunged inside me—and my body is sensitized to the point of pure, beautiful agony.

But Samuel’s stamina is unreal. He is a machine of pure muscle and heat, showing absolutely no signs of stopping as he holds my leg high over his shoulder, his skin slick with sweat as he claims me over and over.

“Samuel, please,” I sob against his shoulder, my fingers clawing helplessly at the damp skin of his back. “I can’t…you’re going to break me.”

He lets out a low, rough growl, his grip on my waist tightening until his fingers leave faint red marks. “You can take it,” he rasps, his voice thick and entirely gone to the pleasure. “You’re built for me, Ashley. Take every fucking inch of it.”

Every slam of his hips sends a fresh, violent jolt of electricity straight to my brain. The tension inside me builds again, rapid and heavy, coiling so tightly that my vision starts to blur. I am right on the edge of a third, shattering climax, my tight muscles clenching desperately around him.

“Samuel, I’m…I’m going to cum,” I scream, my voice cracking, my head thrashing wildly against the pillows. “I’m going to cum again!”

His blue eyes flare with a sudden, wild fire. The confession seems to snap his remaining restraint. He pulls back nearly all the way and slams into me with a desperate, deep thrust that hits my cervix, his entire body shuddering.

“Cum for me,” he roars, his jaw locking as he drives into me twice more, faster and harder. “Do it now, krasavitsa. Let me feel it!”

The dam breaks for the third time. My walls spasm violently around him in a tight, crushing release.

With a loud, animalistic groan, Samuel drives inside me one last time and freezes, his head burying into the crook of my neck as he releases his own heavy, burning warmth deep inside me. He shakes against me, his chest heaving as he pours himself into my tight heat, holding me so close I can feel the frantic, wild hammering of his heart against my ribs.

We stay like that for what feels like hours, tangled together in the quiet of the penthouse as our breathing slowly returns to normal.

When he finally pulls out, a soft, tired whimper escapes me. But Samuel doesn’t let me go far. He immediately pulls my limp, exhausted frame back against his massive chest, wrapping his heavy arms around me and pulling the duvet over us both.