Page 12 of The Bratva's Secret Baby
She reaches up and grips my jacket, fingers curling like she needs the anchor. I can smell her, feel the heat of her body, and it takes everything I have not to pull her closer.
“Say no,” she whispers.
I don’t.
She leans in and kisses me, soft at first, then harder when I respond. My hands come up to her waist, firm, grounding, like I’m afraid she’ll disappear if I let go.
4
ANA
His hands grip my waist like he’s staking something. They’re big and warm, rough from use, and they settle me in place without needing force. I press into him and feel it all at once—his chest hard against mine, his belt buckle digging into my hip, the hum of control under everything else. He holds still like a man who’s waited too long, and I kiss him deeper just to watch him crack.
His mouth parts and I take it, tongue pushing in, soft at first, then hungry. He meets it, then devours it, and I feel my knees give just enough to make me reach for his shoulders. He catches me before I fall. He always did.
I moan when his hand slides down, grips my ass through the coat, then hauls me flush against the line of him, thick and hard where I need him most. My thighs clench. I can feel how badly he wants me, and it twists something fierce and sweet through my gut. I want it messy. I want it bare. I want all the years we didn’t touch to bleed out through this.
I pull back only long enough to shove the coat off my arms. He catches it before it hits the floor and tosses it aside, then backs me toward the kitchen counter like he’s already mapped out how he wants this to go. I let him, until the edge hits the backs of my thighs, and then I yank at his shirt. It’s still tucked in, still too neat, and I want it undone.
“Off,” I tell him. My voice is raw, already breathless.
He unbuttons slow like he’s daring me to lose control first, but I’m not waiting. I slide my hand down the front of his pants and palm him through the fabric. He hisses, short and rough, and grabs my wrist. His grip tightens.
“Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” he says.
“I started this the second I kissed you,” I say, and squeeze him harder.
He growls deep in his throat and kisses me again, rougher now, teeth clashing against mine before his mouth drags along my jaw and down my neck. He finds the spot under my ear that always made my pulse jump and bites just enough to mark it. My head tips back, body arching into his. His hand slides between my legs, cups me through the thin fabric, and presses in hard.
“You’re soaked,” he says. He’s not asking. His fingers rub me slow, then faster, dragging heat and wetness up until I whimper into his mouth.
“I’ve wanted you like this since the chapel,” I say.
He pulls back enough to look at me. “That wasn’t the time.”
“No. But this is.” I grip his hand and shove it under my waistband. No pretense. I’m bare underneath, and his fingers slide straight in.
The groan he lets out is pure filth.
He pumps two fingers in deep, then curls them just right. I gasp, the sound caught between surprise and relief. My knees shake. He does it again, his thumb circling the spot that makes my legs quake. My hips grind against his palm as the pressure builds too fast, too hard, and I grab his arm for balance.
“I’m going to come,” I whisper.
“Good. Let them hear you.”
He fucks me with his fingers harder, thumb stroking tight and fast, and when I come, it slams through me in waves. My body locks and shakes, my mouth falling open around his name.
He doesn’t stop. He lowers to his knees.
I grab the counter behind me to stay upright as he yanks my pants down to my knees and lifts one leg over his shoulder. His tongue replaces his fingers. The first swipe is slow and dirty, then he locks his mouth on me and licks like he means to keep me here all night. I cry out, loud and broken. His hands hold me in place, firm and bruising, and he works me with a hunger that has nothing to do with patience.
“Dominik,” I pant. “You’re—fuck?—”
He groans against me and doubles down. I come again, harder this time, thighs clenching around his head. I can’t breathe through it. I press my fist to my mouth to keep from screaming as the pleasure tears through me, bright and brutal. He only stops when I push at his shoulders with shaking hands.
“Enough,” I say, my voice hoarse.
He stands, mouth slick, eyes wild.
