Page 53 of Forced Marriage to the Cruel Bratva Pakhan

“That’s it,” he encourages, his rhythm becoming more erratic. “Let go. Give yourself to me.”

The orgasm crashes through me without warning, pleasure so intense it borders on painful. My entire body tenses, inner muscles clenching around him rhythmically while waves of sensation roll through me. I cry out his name loud enough that anyone in the hallway would hear, but I’m too far gone to care.

Pavel doesn’t stop. He works me through the orgasm, prolonging it until I’m trembling and oversensitive and begging for mercy.

“One more,” he says, slowing his pace but maintaining the deep, grinding rhythm. “I know you can give me one more.”

“I can’t!”

Except my body is already responding, building toward another peak despite my protests.

He pulls out suddenly, and I make a sound of loss that’s embarrassingly desperate. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he flips me onto my stomach with effortless strength.

“On your knees,” he orders.

I scramble to comply, rising onto hands and knees while he positions himself behind me. His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh with possessive pressure that will definitely leave bruises.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, one hand sliding up my spine. “Do you have any idea how you look right now? Marks from my hands on your skin, flushed and trembling, so wet I can see it dripping down your thighs.”

The crude description makes me clench with need. “Pavel, please.”

“Please what?” He teases my entrance with the head of his cock, not pushing in yet. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me.” The words come out desperate and shameless. “Stop teasing andfuck me.”

He slams home in one brutal thrust, and the new angle makes me scream into the pillow. He’s deeper like this, hitting spots that make stars explode behind my eyes.

“Is this what you need?” He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving me forward. “My cock filling you, my hands on you, using you exactly how I want?”

“Yes!” I’m beyond embarrassment now, beyond anything except the overwhelming pleasure. “Yes, exactly this.”

His hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back at an angle that makes my spine arch deeper. The position lets him drive even deeper, and I can feel my second orgasm building with terrifying speed.

“Pavel, I’m not going to last.”

“Come,” he orders, his voice rough with his own approaching release. “Come for me now, Serena.”

The second orgasm hits even harder than the first, pleasure so intense it whites out my vision completely. I’m dimly aware of crying out, of my arms giving out so my face presses into the pillow while my hips stay elevated by his bruising grip.

Pavel groans above me, his rhythm faltering as my inner muscles clench around him. “Fuck, Serena.”

“Inside,” I gasp, remembering just barely that I’m on birth control. “Come inside me, Pavel. I want to feel it.”

That permission destroys what’s left of his control. He buries himself to the hilt and stills, and I feel the pulse of his release filling me. The intimacy of it—being claimed and filled and marked as his in the most primal way—sends another smaller aftershock rippling through me.

We stay locked together for several long moments, both breathing hard, sweat-slicked skin cooling in the room’s air. Eventually Pavel pulls out slowly, and I feel his release start to leak out immediately.

The sensation should probably be uncomfortable or messy. Instead, it makes possessive satisfaction curl in my chest.

Pavel collapses beside me, pulling me with him so I’m tucked against his side. My head rests on his chest where I can hear his heartbeat gradually slowing from its frantic pace.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he observes, one hand trailing up and down my spine with lazy affection.

“Worth it,” I murmur against his skin.

He makes a satisfied sound low in his throat. “I’m sure it is.”

Chapter Twenty - Pavel