Page 78 of Arranged Marriage to the Brutal Bratva King
He doesn’t. Works me with ruthless efficiency, adding a third finger, stretching me, making me take everything he’s giving. The angle is perfect, the pressure exactly right, and I’m climbing fast toward an edge I can’t control.
“Come for me,” he commands, voice rough. “Show me who you belong to.”
I shatter, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through me in waves. He doesn’t relent, doesn’t slow, drawing out my orgasm until I’m shaking, oversensitive, barely able to form thoughts.
When I finally come down, Dimitri withdraws his hand slowly. His fingers glisten with evidence of my arousal, and he maintains eye contact as he brings them to his mouth, tasting me.
The gesture is filthy and possessive and makes heat coil low in my belly despite having just come apart.
“Go to our room,” he says, voice still rough with want. “Get undressed. Wait for me.”
“Now?”
“Go, Janice. Before I fuck you on this desk and we both forget what we were fighting about.”
I slide off the desk on shaking legs. My underwear is ruined, my skirt wrinkled, and I can feel the evidence of what just happened between my thighs.
“What about you?” I ask, seeing how hard he is through his pants.
“Later. After you’re gone and I’ve had time to decide whether I’m angrier about your lying or impressed by your courage.”
The words should terrify me. Instead, they spark something that might be hope.
“I wasn’t doing anything—”
“Don’t. Not now. We’ll talk tomorrow, when we’ve both had time to think. For tonight, just—” He stops, runs a hand through his hair. “Just go to bed. Let me believe you’re still mine.”
The admission cracks something in my chest. He knows I was up to something. Knows I’m not as loyal as I’ve been pretending.
He’s choosing to believe in me anyway. At least for tonight.
I flee the study without looking back, legs still unsteady, mind racing.
Chapter Twenty - Dimitri
Felix arrives at two in the morning.
I’m still awake, standing at the windows overlooking a city that never sleeps, replaying the night’s events on loop.
Janice in my study, hand hovering over that drawer. The fear and guilt written across her face. The way she’d shattered when I touched her, giving me everything despite whatever plan she’d been considering.
Who gave her that phone? What did they want? How long has this been going on?
Felix lets himself in with the spare keycard, takes one look at me, and pours two drinks without asking.
“You look like hell,” he observes.
“It’s 2:00 a.m. How do you expect me to look?”
“Like you’ve been sleeping instead of brooding.” He hands me a glass. “What happened?”
“What makes you think something happened?”
“You texted me at one thirty asking for any intel on contacts Janice has had in the past week. That’s not a casual request.”
Fair point.
I take the drink, don’t sip it. “Someone approached her. Tried to use her against me.”
