Page 31 of The Bratva’s Captive Flame

She claws at my shoulders, her hips jerking erratically as the orgasm rips through her. "Demin—" she gasps, the word breaking into another muffled cry. Her whole body shudders violently in my arms while her pussy continues to pulse and squeeze around me.

I keep kissing her through it, devouring every gasp and whimper as the waves keep coming, drawing them out until she starts to sag against me, breathless and limp. I hold her steady, my fingers still buried inside her as the final tremors fade.

She leans heavy against me, breathing ragged, and I pull my hand free and spin her around toward the railing. She gasps as I bend her forward over the rail, hands gripping the metal for balance. The sundress rides up her back as I hook my fingers into her panties and rip them down her legs, tearing the fabric away completely and tossing it aside.

"God, what a perfect ass," I growl as I free my cock and line up behind her, thrusting into her pussy roughly. She groans, body jolting forward, but I grip her hips and start fucking her. God, how I've craved this and wanted to see her reaction, and it couldn't be more perfect. She's pliable and yielding to me in every way.

"Please, Demin," she begs, voice shaky as she pushes back against me. "Oh, my God… harder."

I bring my hand down on her ass and her flesh reddens under my palm. She moans and pushes back even more. So I spank her again, harder this time, then fist her braid and yank her head back, arching her body while I pound into her with long, powerful thrusts.

"You want it like this?" I growl, my hips snapping forward. "Bent over my railing, taking my dick where anyone could look up and see you like this?"

"Shit," she pants, but her words dissolve into moans. "Don't stop. Please, Demin, don't stop."

I keep her braid wrapped tight around my fist, pulling with each thrust as I spank her ass again and again. Isabela makes such desperate, needy sounds that cause my dick to swell more and her pussy grips me tighter with every strike, fluttering wildly. I feel her start to come, walls clamping down in strong, rhythmic spasms that milk my cock from base to tip.

Her whole body shakes, thighs quivering as sharp cries rip from her throat. The contractions roll through her in deep, pulsing waves, each one squeezing me harder than the last, her inner muscles locking and releasing in uncontrollable surges that nearly pull me over with her.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so incredible when you come, Milaya," I growl, gliding in and out through her thick moisture. It's incredible, watching her ass pucker and pulse as she jolts and twitches.

The sight and feel of her coming undone so completely pushes me right to the edge. I slam deeper and come hard, groaning as my cock pulses inside her. Thick spurts fill her with each heavy throb, the release crashing through me in intense waves that make my vision blur and my legs lock.

"Shit… yes," I breathe as I keep thrusting through it, riding out every surge. I empty myself into her, dragging the pleasure on until I have nothing left but a sensitive cock and a pounding heart.

I stay buried deep for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, her body still trembling in the aftershocks. Finally, I ease out slowly and pull her upright against my chest, smoothing the sundress down over her hips with one hand while the other releases her braid.

I turn her to face me, my hand cupping her jaw so she has to look at me. Her eyes are still hazy, lips swollen from my kisses.

"The only reason your father isn't down in that basement right now getting tortured until he agrees to cook is because I find you useful," I tell her. "Keep that in mind."

Hurt flashes across her face first before it hardens into anger. She jerks her chin out of my grip, eyes blazing. "I won't sleep with you again if you force him to cook," she snaps, voice shaking with fury. "I mean it, Demin. Not ever."

I catch her wrist before she can step back, pulling her close again. "You belong to me. You'll do what I say, when I say it. Whether you spread your legs willingly or not is up to you, but it changes nothing."

She yanks free, cheeks flushed, and stomps toward the terrace door, and I swear I see tears in her eyes. The sway of her hips and the braid swinging down her back make my dick twitch even now. I watch her go, but a strange twist settles in my chest.

Fuck. She’s addictive in a way I didn’t plan for. I want her coming to me because she craves it, not because I’m holding her father over her head. But orders are orders. Sebastian expects results, and the lab is ready. I have three days to make Octavio Cruz useful, whether Isabela likes it or not.

I drag a hand through my hair and turn back to the railing, staring out over the Berlin skyline while I tuck my dick away and think about the pressure I'm under. The hardest part isn’t breaking him. It’s dealing with what she’s becoming to me.

17

ISABELA

Iwake before Demin does, tangled in the sheets with my body sore in places that remind me exactly what I let happen on that roof. I'm so stupid—so easily sucked in by his good looks, charm, and possessiveness. He owned me outright and I let him, because I wanted it as badly as I could tell he did. Had I known why I was being beckoned, I never would've gone, but I did. It happened, and now I'm all the more hooked on him.

Demin's asleep on his back beside me, one arm thrown over his head. He looks younger like this, which is its own kind of trap. A man that much older than me wouldn't even be a temptation, but the full package makes my insides melt like I drank lava. I have to make myself stop looking before it does any more damage than it already has.

I'm furious with myself, and the worst part is I can't even pretend it was a mistake of the moment. I knew exactly what I was doing the minute I walked out onto that terrace. I'm the one who told him to make me. I pulled him in, and I kissed him back like I'd been starving for it. Now here I am in his bed with my body betraying me.

That's how cheaply I sold out.

I slide out from under the sheet as carefully as I can, watching him for any change in his breathing, but he doesn't stir. Papa has no clue that Demin's threats are so real. I have to get to him and warn him to just comply or risk one or both of us being hurt, so I find my clothes from yesterday and dress, but the whole time, my mind is drifting back to Demin's touch.

I need to tell Papa that arguing won't move the line at all, that we're running out of road faster than I let him believe yesterday. He thinks I'm going to work some magic and figure out a way out of this mess, but he has no clue I have no way to do that. And… maybe I don’t want to. Maybe if Demin can be reasoned with, he'll do things differently, without coercion or force.

I open the bedroom door, and Bart straightens up. He looks at me and peeks over my shoulder where Demin lies sleeping.