Page 73 of Bratva Baby

“You’re mine,” I tell her.

“Always,” she whispers.

I fuck her hard, hips cracking against her ass. The slap of skin fills the room. She yelps when I spank her, then moans, pushing back into my hand.

“You want more?”

“Yes.”

I spank again, leave red imprints on her perfect ass, then soothe the marks with my palms. My thumb dips between her cheeks, teasing the tight ring there. She gasps.

“Anton—”

“Later,” I murmur, rubbing lazy circles. “We’ll get there.”

“Promise?”

“Oh, yes.”

I pull her hair harder, bending to bite her shoulder. She whines, grinding back.

“Say my name.”

“Anton.”

“Louder.”

“Anton!”

I thrust faster, chasing my own release now, breath ragged, sweat slicking my chest. Her walls flutter, still sensitive, but she takes every thrust, hungry.

“You love being filled with me,” I pant.

“Yes—”

“I’m gonna fuck you every day you let me.”

“The hell you are.”

“The hell I am,” I correct, snapping my hips. “You’re mine.”

“Yours.”

That word pushes me to the edge. I reach around, rub her clit hard while I pound into her. She wails, keening, voice raw.

“Ooh, Anton! Anton!”

She spasms around me again, coming for a third time, and that’s it—I slam deep and spur, cock swelling as I empty into her with a guttural growl. My vision blurs. Every nerve is nothing but heat and Sofiya and the heaven of being buried inside her while she contracts around me, milking every last drop.

I stay inside her, panting. She slumps forward, cheek against the couch, body limp. I kiss the back of her neck, breathing in the scent of sex and sweat and Sofiya.

“Stay there,” I murmur again, softer. “I want to watch it drip out of you.”

She laughs weakly. “You’re a deviant.”

“Yes.”

I pull out, watch my cum spill down her thighs, trail high on her ass. She shudders, moaning. I slide my fingers along the mess, scoop it up, and push it back inside her, ignoring her gasp.