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Owned By My Ex’s Bratva Uncle

Page 66

by Mira J. Fox

Andrei brushes his thumb over my cheek. “With how much time I’ve already spent in here, it looks like I won’t be getting that shower after all.”

He cups my face with both hands and kisses me again, slower this time, but no less intense. When he pulls away, his lips hover just above mine.

“We’re going downstairs to have breakfast together as a family,” he says, voice dropping into that dark, velvet tone that always does dangerous things to me. “And then I’m bringing you straight back up here…”

He leans in until his mouth brushes my ear.

“…and I’m going to fuck you into the mattress until the only thing you can remember is my name. I’m going to spread those pretty thighs, bury my cock so deep inside you that you’ll still feel me tomorrow, and make you come so many times you’ll be begging me to stop.”

I gasp, heat flooding my entire body.

He pulls back just enough to look at my flushed face, a satisfied glint in his eyes. “Understand, wife?”

I can barely breathe, let alone speak. All I can do is nod. Andrei presses one last soft kiss to my forehead before stepping back.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be furious with him. Instead, I’m already aching for what he just described.

He takes my hand without a word and leads me downstairs. The moment we step into the dining room, Anya is already bouncing in her chair, her little legs swinging excitedly as Daria finishes setting the table.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Popov,” Daria greets us with a warm smile.

“Morning, Daria,” Andrei replies smoothly.

“Mommy!” Anya squeals the second she sees me. She reaches her arms out for a hug.

I lean down and kiss the top of her head, breathing in her sweet baby-shampoo scent. “Good morning, my love.” I slide into the chair beside her.

We start breakfast: freshly squeezed orange juice, pancakes, and eggs. But I can barely concentrate on any of it. My mind keeps replaying Andrei’s filthy promises from upstairs in vivid detail. I shift in my seat, pressing my thighs together under the table.

When I finally lift my eyes from my glass of orange juice, I find Andrei watching me. He has that knowing smirk on his face, eyes dark with heat. My cheeks burn. I quickly look away and rub my legs together again, trying to ease the ache building between them.

“Mommy, are you listening?” Anya asks, tilting her head.

Andrei chuckles softly. “Mama is a little distracted this morning, malyshka.”

The way he calls me “Mama” sends a strange, warm flutter through my chest. I hate how good it sounds coming from him.

I somehow manage to survive the rest of breakfast, smiling and nodding at Anya’s excited chatter about her new toy. The second we’re done, Andrei stands.

“I’m going up to shower,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of Anya’s head before glancing at me with heated promise in his eyes.

I take Anya upstairs to her room and help her clean up, changing her into fresh clothes and brushing her teeth.

When I finally step back into our bedroom, I hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

I hesitate for only a second. Then I reach down, pull my nightdress over my head, and let it drop to the floor. Completely naked, I walk into the bathroom and step into the large glass shower.

The moment I’m inside, Andrei turns. Water cascades down his broad, tattooed shoulders. His eyes darken instantly as they rake over my bare body.

Without a word, he reaches out, wraps one strong arm around my waist, and pulls me straight into the hot spray and against his chest.

The water beats down on us as his mouth crashes down on mine in a hungry kiss.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s hungry, demanding, almost punishing. His tongue pushes past my lips and claims my mouth, stroking deep and filthy while one big hand fists in my wet hair and the other grips my ass, pulling me even closer. I moan into him, my hands sliding up his slick chest, fingers digging into the fresh tattoo of my name over his heart.

He kisses me like he’s starving for me, like he’s been waiting hours instead of minutes. When he finally breaks the kiss, I’m dizzy, gasping, water streaming down my face.

Andrei looks down at me with dark, hooded eyes. “On your knees, wife.”