Page 80 of The Bratva King

“I don’t know you.”

“Gabby, do you trust me with your body?” He leans forward, his tongue brushing over my lower lip. “I’m going to make you come. Many times, if you’ll let me.”

My body shudders in anticipation. “Yes,” I whisper.

He moves to my ear. “We’re going into my bedroom. Once we’re in there, you give me control. I will give you what no one else has.”

This is probably a terrible idea. But he’s promising pleasure. One night. That’s all I want.

“Okay.”

He takes my hand and leads me upstairs. Instead of going toward my room, we turn in the opposite direction. He opens the door at the end of the hall. I don’t get a chance to look around his bedroom. He flicks on a lamp and turns to face me before I can even take in the sheer size of the space.

“Undress.”

Just that. One word.

“I...”

“Gabby.”

My name again. His voice is husky. Powerful. Commanding. How can he put me in a trance just by saying my name?

I pull my shirt over my head. His eyes track every movement. I reach back, unhook my bra, and let it fall away. His gaze drops to my breasts. His lips part, and then he looks at me again. Hunger. Raw and undisguised. I reach for the button of my jeans.

My fingers are trembling. I get the zipper down, push the denim over my hips, and step out of it. I’m standing in front of him in nothing but cotton underwear, and his eyes haven’t moved from me.

“Everything.”

I hook my thumbs in the waistband and push them down. I straighten and resist the urge to cover myself. He looks at me for a long moment.

“On the bed. On your back.”

“What about you?” I ask.

“Gabby.”

I might experience an orgasm just with him saying my name.

I move to the bed and lie back against the dark covers. He’s still fully dressed when he comes to stand at the edge, looking down at me. He reaches out and runs one finger from my collarbone down the center of my sternum, between my breasts and over my stomach. My body shudders.

“Beautiful,” he says. Just one word. Very Nikolai.

Then, he lowers himself onto the bed beside me and puts his mouth on my throat. I gasp. His lips drag down over my collarbone and across my chest. When his mouth closes over my nipple, I arch off the bed, and my hand flies to his hair. He sucks, circling his tongue before clamping down with his teeth. I make a sound I’ve never heard myself make.

He works his way down my stomach, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my ribs, my navel, and the soft skin below.

His mouth finds the inside of my thigh. He takes his time there, lips and tongue tracing upward with excruciating slowness until I’m gripping the sheets.

“Nikolai,” I murmur.

“Spread your legs,” he commands.

I should be embarrassed. I spread my legs. He stretches out alongside me, his hand resting on the inside of my thigh.

“You’re wet,” he says. “Are you sure you’ve never come for a man?” he asks.

“I’ve had orgasms, but…”