Page 59 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

“Igor,” I breathe, his name slipping out as a ragged sigh in the steam. “Baby…”

He answers by shifting his weight, his large hands sliding up the back of my thighs to lift me just a fraction and anchor me completely against him.

I roll my hips forward, chasing the devastating high of my climax as he increases the pressure of his tongue against my most sensitive part.

An ache builds in my core, tightening into a slow-burning fuse that makes every muscle in my body go taut.

My head rolls back and my eyes close as I’m completely lost to the sensation of his tongue ravishing me. The warmth building inside me expands to a dangerous high that clashes with whatever resistance is left inside me.

Then my orgasm surges like a rolling wave, flooding my entire body. Igor doesn’t stop, even as a loud cry rips from my throat and my muscles ripple and squeeze around the intense pleasure, sending a long, shivering ache from my clitoris all the way to my toes.

I’m still completely absorbed by the tremors racking my body, and before the haze clears, my husband rises to his feet. Water streams down his face, matting his dark hair to his forehead.

He looks more like a model than a bratva businessman. He’s so handsome that my stomach flutters just looking at him.

Unbuckling his belt, he takes off his pants, and I swallow when his cock springs free from his boxers. It’s hard and big, and my throat bobs at the sight of the precum on the tip of his pink head.

My vagina pulses.

I want to feel him inside me until I’m screaming his name and begging him for more.

Bracing one hand on the wall beside my head, he lifts my leg with the other and presses the tip of his erection to my entrance, then leans over and kisses my neck.

My breath hitches, my hands instinctively finding his damp shoulders as he leans forward and uses his weight to slide smoothly inside me. A long, breathless sigh escapes me as he fills me up completely, the friction sparking a deep ache that chases away the lingering exhaustion from my climax.

Then he starts to make love to me slowly, like he’s claiming me in the most sensual way possible. His thrusts are deep enough to consume me completely while he fucks me slowly enough to drive me insane.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne and whispering his name like it’s a love song.

He withdraws slowly and pushes back in, locking in a deep rhythm that matches the sound of the water falling from the shower. Each time he moves inside me, he fills me up completely.

I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers digging into his flesh as the feeling of having him this close starts to blur into something much more intense than sex.

He leans down, his mouth right against my ear, his voice rough and low over the rushing water. “Look at me,” he mutters, his breath heating my skin as he drives into me again. “Tell me who owns you.”

A shaky breath catches in my throat. I look up at him, my eyes locking onto his.

“You’re mine, Audrey,” he whispers, slowing his thrusts to a steady rhythm and taking his time to torture me with it. “Every single part of you is mine. You’re not allowed to hate me or betray me. I’ll kill any man who dares to look at you the wrong way.”

His eyes hold something more than lust or possession, and for the first time, I start to feel like I might mean more to him—more than just an object of his desire, more than just sexual attraction.

But I know deep down he’s not that kind of man.

He might care for me, protect me, and worry about me, but he’ll never love me, not in the way I want him to, at least.

Yet hearing him say that and seeing the way he looks into my eyes makes a tight, painful ache bloom in my chest. It has nothing to do with the physical pleasure, and for the first time, the weight of my true feelings for him hits me.

I can’t lose him.

The realization cuts through the fog, leaving me completely bare.

I’m falling for him all over again, deeper and more helplessly than before. And the idea of him finding out about my past alliance with Serrano and wanting nothing to do with me paralyzes me with fear.

A single tear slips from the corner of my eyes, mixing with the water on my face. It runs hot down my cheeks.

“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m begging for.

A groan rumbles from his chest, and he pulls my hips hard against his and pushes deeper inside me.