Page 72 of Bratva Baby

“Anton,” she hisses.

I pull my fingers free and shove them into her mouth. She sucks them clean, glaring at me like she might kill me later for the position I’ve put her in, like she might kiss me while she does it. I drag my wet fingers down her throat, across her chest, lower, until I reach her clit again. I circle it lazily, enjoying the way her breathing turns ragged.

“Please,” she says quietly.

That word, from her, finishes me. I line myself up, rub the head along her slick entrance, then thrust in, slow and steady, stretching her again until I’m buried. Her eyes close, a moan spilling from her lips.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

“Move,” she gasps. “Don’t stop.”

I start to thrust, hips grinding, long strokes that have her gasping. Her nails rake down my back, then dig into my biceps, clinging. Her cunt clamps around me, tight, velvet, soaking. I watch her face, watch every flicker of pleasure, every bitten curse.

“Harder,” she begs.

I give her what she wants, slamming harder, faster, my hips pistoning, the couch rattling under us. Her breasts bounce with each thrust. I lean down and suck a nipple again, biting, licking, muffling my groan in her skin.

“Anton, fuck!”

“You love this,” I pant. “You love taking my cock.”

“Y-yes⁠—”

She tries to say more and fails because I angle my hips and hit that spot inside her that makes her scream.

“Right there,” she cries. “God, yes.”

I hammer that spot, driving into her, sweat dripping down my back. The sounds echo—wet, raw, her moans, my curses.

“Touch yourself,” I order.

She snakes a hand down and presses her fingers to her clit, rubbing fast. Her body bows, eyes rolling. I watch every second, dizzy with how badly I want her to come again on me.

“You close?”

“Uh-huh,” she gasps. “Don’t stop. Anton, please⁠—”

I grip her hip and fuck her brutal, relentless. Her thighs shake. She shudders, then seizes, crying out as her orgasm crashes over her, clenching tight and pulsing around me. I thrust through it, milking every tremor, panting into her neck, letting the flood drag me closer to my own edge.

“Good girl,” I murmur against her ear. “Give me everything.”

She whimpers, still shaking, nails digging crescent moons into my skin. I kiss her as the last tremors fade and keep moving, slower now, deep, savoring the way she trembles after.

“You’re still hard,” she pants.

“Of course.”

She drags her hand down my stomach, cupping my cock where it disappears inside her. “Keep going.”

“Get on your hands and knees.”

She smirks. “Yes, sir.”

She rolls and I pull out, watching her crawl to the top of the couch, bracing herself on the back cushions, ass high, back arched, hair falling wild to one side. She looks over her shoulder, eyes glittering.

“Come get it,” she says.

I grip her hips and slam back into her, bottoming out with a groan. She hisses, shoving back against me, greedy. I haul her closer, one hand at her waist, the other sliding up her spine to wrap in her hair and pull her head back.