Page 31 of Bratva Brother’s Bride

The kiss is angry and desperate. Our lips crash together and I moan into his open mouth. My teeth catch his lower lip and he groans too, his hands tightening on my waist. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest. Or maybe that’s mine; I can’t tell anymore.

He walks me backward until my shoulders hit the wall. His mouth moves from mine to my neck, and I arch into him with a sound I don’t recognize.

His hands find the hem of my dress and push it up. I wrap my leg around his hip and he lifts me, pinning me against the wall with his body.

He lifts me higher, my back scraping against the wall as he adjusts his grip. I can feel how hard he is through his pants, and I want to forget everything except his hands on me.

“Look at me,” he says.

I open my eyes. His face is inches from mine, his pupils blown wide with desire.

“You’re not thinking about Anton right now,” he says. “Are you?”

I shake my head. My hair falls loose around my shoulders and he reaches up to pull the clip free, letting it cascade down my back.

“Good.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “I don’t want you thinking about anyone but me.”

He sets me down just long enough to reach under my dress and pull my underwear off. The fabric tears in his haste but I don’t care.

Then he unbuckles his pants, pulling me flush against him as he pushes into me.

I gasp at the stretch of it, the fullness. God, he feels so good I think I might lose my mind.

“Roman—”

He moves slowly at first, each thrust hitting that perfect angle that makes my pussy clench. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, his nails digging into tender skin.

“You feel that?” he asks, and his voice is husky with need.

I look at him. His eyes are dark, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding back.

“Fuck,” I say between clenched teeth.

He rewards me with a harder thrust that makes me cry out. My head falls back against the wall and he takes advantage, his mouth finding my neck again.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the cemetery,” he says against my skin. “You make such pretty sounds when you come.”

“Don’t—”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell you how much I want you?” He thrusts again, and I see stars. “Don’t tell you that I’ve been hard for days just thinking about being inside you?”

I dig my nails into his shoulders. He hisses but doesn’t stop.

He shifts his angle and suddenly I can feel it building, that tight coil of pleasure that starts low in my belly and spreads outward.

“That’s it,” he says, his voice rough against my ear. “I can feel you getting close, little bird.”

He slides out of me, and the sensation leaves me hollow. I want to scream with frustration. He’s holding me on the edge, keeping me suspended between pleasure and release but he won’t let me fall.

“Fuck me,” I say. “Please. I need⁠—”

“You need what?” He pushes back in, just an inch, and I clench around him desperately. “Tell me.”

“Give me your cock.”

He rewards me with another inch. His cock stretches me open further, and he grins. “Better, but I want more.”

I dig my nails into his shoulders. “Make me come. I want you to make me come.”