Page 84 of Bratva Sacrifice

She wants to. That part of her that needs me in the way I need her wants to soften. “Fuck you, Alexei!” She muffles a screech as my palm slaps her upturned ass, then rubs away the sting.

“Oh, you will.” My hand finds her breast, my fingers pinching her nipple to a taut point. I have to stretch over her to do it, and I know she feels the heat of my body along her back. “Sashulya. Say it, koshechka.” I want to hear this soft name from her.

“You can’t make me!” she sneers. A child’s taunt. She fists the cushions in her hands, gives a futile tug as if to pull herself away from me. But she is pinned beneath my weight, her elbows trembling with the exertion of trying to wrench herself free. I am trembling with the exertion of keeping myself from plunging inside of her.

She gives a devastating wiggle of her hips. It is just enough for me to penetrate her—just barely. Just the kiss of my cock inside her, and I swallow back a groan, seize her hips in a punishing grip to stop her struggles. I like them a little too much in this moment.

“You always have to win,” she says, her voice tart with annoyance.

“Yes, koshechka. I always have to win.” She shudders when I slide my hand beneath her, find the bead of her clit with my thumb, and rub in slow strokes. “This does not mean you have to lose.” I give her the tiniest hint of a thrust as I bend to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. “Say it, koshechka, and I will give you what you want.”

“I won’t!”

Stubborn girl. My fingers stroke her just a little faster, and I use the slippery wetness she has drenched me in to blunt the friction to a slick slide. Her breath hitches. I hear the moan she tries to keep clenched between her teeth. She hovers at the edge of climax, and I keep her suspended there until she groans her frustration, turning her head to the side. And then she freezes as the light hits her face and she realizes we are naked in her living room, and there is a wall of windows that face the beach outside. In the far distance, there are people in the water. Surfers, I think.

“Oh, God. Close the curtains!”

There is no chance of that now. “You made your choice already, koshechka. You could have come to bed with me.”

“Anyone can see in!”

“Then you are getting fucked hard in front of anyone.” She gives a strangled sob as I stroke her toward climax. “Your choice, koshechka. Be a good girl, and I will make it fast.”

A wash of color sweeps over her; the heat of embarrassment. She turns her face into the cushions. But she murmurs, “Sashulya.”

Thank God. I sink into her, and she is so tight, so hot that it takes effort not to come immediately. It is like she is a virgin all over again, and I know she needs a moment to get accustomed to me inside her once more.

Still I cannot resist the temptation to press deeper. “You take me so well, koshechka. Fuck, look at you.” My words end in a visceral hiss as she clenches around me. She is like a vise around my cock, trying to keep me inside her.

Somehow I find the strength to withdraw, fighting the tight clutch of her body.

A little whine builds in her throat. “Harder,” she demands.

Ah, yes. I promised her that. I shove inside her, holding myself deep. I feel her tremble around me, already so close. Her fingernails scritch across the cushions, and she buries a broken little sound in them. I know she wants to move, but she is helpless here, dangling over the back of the couch. She can only accept what I give her—and she likes that, too. She likes to be dominated. By me.

I know I am rubbing her inside and out, that she is trying so hard not to come yet. I can feel the struggle in the tense line of her spine. I soothe her with a soft stroke of my hand, a hard stroke of my cock. Fuck, she is beautiful like this, her delicate shoulders quivering with tension, that flush of passion painting her skin. If her knees were not pressed so tightly to my hips, I know I would see her little toes curling. I love to see her like this, taking me so sweetly. She takes all of my lust and twists it into love.

My breath bursts from my lungs in short gusts. My hips jab between her soft thighs. I am pounding into her. She is going to be so sore, her beautiful skin reddened with the friction burn from the cushions. At last there is that telltale zing at the base of my spine, and I know I will not last much longer. It is too good to be inside her again.

I bend over her, and the new growth of stubble on my cheek rasps against the nape of her neck. “I was such a fool, koshechka, to think I could ever let you go. You were always meant to be mine.” I find her clit with the pad of my thumb, and the moan that rises from her lips is a thing of beauty. “Come now, koshechka. I need to feel you.”

And she does—my good girl likes to obey. I make it good for her, and she wrings my cock with those fluttering pulses until my thrusts turn brutal. Until I am holding her still for my taking. Until I plant myself deep and fill her with my come.

She is not on birth control. I know she never bothered to see a doctor and renew her prescription. Could be dangerous.

And while I pant against the damp, sweat-slicked skin of her shoulder, I think for a moment that it might be nice. Not to raise pampered little mafia princes and princesses. Just to raise children.

Long moments pass. I don’t want to pull out of her just yet. I don’t want to ruin this quiet moment we share, where all of her fury has transformed into acquiescence. I know it is still there, shimmering beneath her placid surface. But just for these few moments, I want her sweet. And she is—until I try to kiss her. Then she jerks her head from me, baring her teeth in a feral scowl.

“Let me up,” she hisses, and I think, So much for post-orgasmic bliss.

“Such an attitude,” I chide. Between her thighs I am already hardening again. She makes me insatiable. “Good girls get fucked slow and gentle in bed. Bad girls take my cock over the couch in the living room, where anyone can see in, until I am satisfied they’ve learned a lesson. Which are you going to be, koshechka?”

If I am honest, it does not matter which. I love all aspects of her. Whichever Katya I get—good or bad—I am delighted.

Chapter Forty Five

Catherine