Page 4 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

When she finally started struggling for air, I let her go. Then I flipped her around. Isabella liked it rough. She always wanted me to take control of her body, push her harder, give her more.

I yanked her gown and panties out of the way and pinned her naked to the door. Her round, full ass faced me. She'd always been slim, only her hips carrying any real softness. But right then, her narrow waist and perky ass made a curve that hit me like a punch. Maybe it was the low light, but her proportions looked damn near perfect.

The voice in my head screaming for me to get inside her proved it.

I stepped up behind her, lined up, and brushed my fingers over her slick, dripping slit. Her whole body jolted. Too sensitive. Too raw. Like she was new at this—like she'd cooked up some fresh little game.

That was Isabella, always finding a new way to play.

"Relax, baby," I said, giving her ass a quick pat.

She made me so hard it hurt. And she was so tight that when I pushed only halfway in, she damn near crushed me. Fuck. For a second I actually wondered if this was even Isabella. She was tight and wet like a virgin.

Usually she rocked her hips back, begging for it, working me with that slow squeeze-and-release that drove me insane. And sure, it was hot—no guy turned down a sex life that good. But this shy act? This silent, trembling thing? It got under my skin in a way I couldn't shake.

I liked the surprise. That sexy little demon.

"Baby, you're squeezing the hell out of me," I said through clenched teeth as I forced my way past the resistance.

"Ah!" Her back arched hard. She let out a sharp, pained cry—and then snapped her mouth shut like she'd swallowed it.

The pressure inside her almost made me blow like some damn rookie. I stayed buried in her for a few seconds, fighting it until the tight ache in my lower belly backed off, then I started moving again. She felt more frantic than usual, answering every thrust like her body couldn't help it.

"Why are you so wound up tonight?" I drove up into her, grinding against her walls.

She flinched, curling in on herself like she was trying to hold something back.

I hit harder. The door banged with each slam. Her ass had to move with my hips, helpless to it. I grabbed her pale cheeks. The full curve fit my palm perfectly, soft and springy, slick skin trying to slip away.

I didn't let it. I kept her right where I wanted her, squeezing and shaping her however the fuck I pleased.

She couldn't take it. She slid down the door, and somehow that only lifted her ass higher, her pussy clamping around me like a warm, greedy mouth.

"Look at you," I growled, yanking her hair back just enough to sting. "You're gonna drain me dry."

Isabella usually loved that. She normally screamed her head off. But for some reason, she kept refusing to make a sound.

Maybe that was part of the surprise. Maybe she'd wanted me drunk and stupid so she could play some different role tonight. That wasn't exactly unusual.

I pulled all the way out and drove back in. Wetness squeezed out around me, making everything slide with no resistance.

"You are fucking perfect," I snapped, speeding up, burying myself to the hilt every time. "You always pull some new shit. This pussy is made to please me."

Her breath broke loose, ragged and high, almost like she was about to cry, but she still wouldn't say the dirty words.

"Guess you need more," I said, biting the back of her neck and gripping her breasts, kneading hard. "Let me hear you, or I stop right now."

At the same time, I kept thrusting at a vicious angle, pounding that one spot. No woman held out against that.

"No!" she finally cried out—thin, shaking—and she came, spilling all over my cock.

I froze.

That voice wasn't Isabella's. Not even close. It wasn't sharp and loud the way Isabella always sounded. It was small. Trembling.

She wasn't Isabella.

I hooked my fingers under her chin and turned her face toward me. The wall sconce was too dim; I could only see her outline. I hit the switch.