Page 149 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

He licked again, deeper, circling, then sealing his mouth over me and sucking lightly. Pleasure sparked sharp and bright. I threaded my fingers into his hair, not pushing, just holding on. He worked me with patience and focus—long strokes, soft flicks, the occasional firm pressure that made my thighs tremble. Every time I gasped his name he answered with another slow drag of his tongue, or a quiet, filthy praise.

"So sweet. Always so fucking responsive for me. Feel how hard you get when I do this—" he closed his lips around the swollen bud and hummed, "—yeah. Just like that."

My breathing turned ragged. The tension coiled tighter, higher. He slid one finger inside me, then a second, curling them in time with the pull of his mouth. The dual sensation ripped a broken sound from my throat.

"Kiryan—I'm close—"

"Then come," he said against my skin. "Let me feel it. Give it to me."

The orgasm rolled through me in deep, pulsing waves. I arched, crying out, thighs clamping around his head while he kept licking, softer now, drawing every last tremor out of me until I collapsed back, boneless and gasping.

He rose over me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes almost black. Clothes came off in efficient motions—shirt, trousers, everything—until he was naked and hard, the thick length of him curving up against his stomach. He braced one knee on the bed and leaned down to kiss me, slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"Yes." I reached between us, wrapping my fingers around him. He was hot and heavy, the skin silky over iron hardness. "I want you inside me."

He settled between my thighs, careful of my shoulder, one hand sliding under my lower back to tilt my hips. The broad head of him nudged my entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust to the stretch. When he was fully seated he stayed still, forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard.

"Christ. You're so tight. So warm." He rolled his hips in a shallow test. "Feel that? How perfectly you take me?"

I nodded, unable to form words. The fullness was exquisite, the slight curve of my belly pressed between us a constant reminder of what we had made together. He began to move—long, measured strokes that dragged over every sensitive place inside me. Not rough. Not hurried. Just deep and steady and completely focused on the friction building between us.

"I love you," he said suddenly, voice rough with feeling. His eyes locked on mine as he thrust again, slower, deeper. "Not just tonight. Not just because you're carrying my child. I've loved you for so long it feels like it's the only true thing I know. You make everything else secondary. Work. The world. None of it matters the way you do."

My throat tightened. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes even as pleasure coiled again low in my belly. "Kiryan—"

"I mean it." Another slow glide. His hand cupped my cheek. "I wake up thinking about you. I fall asleep wanting you closer. Every time I look at that little swell of your stomach I want to drop to my knees and thank whatever force put you in my life. You're everything. Do you understand that?"

I pulled his mouth to mine, kissing him hard, pouring every unspoken answer into it. He groaned into the kiss and increased the pace just enough—still controlled, still careful, but harder now, the wet sound of our bodies meeting loud in the quiet room.

"Tell me you feel it too," he rasped against my lips. "Tell me how good this is."

"It's so good," I whispered. "You fill me perfectly. Every time you push deep I feel it all the way to my spine. Don't stop."

"Never." He shifted the angle, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. "Fuck—there it is. Your cunt squeezes me every time I do that. So greedy for me."

The dirty praise only wound me higher. I wrapped my legs around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs, urging him on. Sweat slicked our skin. The air filled with the soft sounds of flesh meeting flesh and our shared, broken breathing. He kept talking, voice low and rough between thrusts.

"Look at you taking me so well. Pregnant and still begging for cock. My perfect girl. Gonna fill you up again—mark you from the inside so you feel me tomorrow."

The words tipped me over. Orgasm crashed through me harder than the first, clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. I sobbed his name. He followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside me. The heat of it, the knowledge of it, sent aftershocks rippling through my body.

He didn't pull out right away. Instead he lowered himself carefully onto his forearms, keeping most of his weight off me, and pressed soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. Our breathing slowly evened out. Inside me he softened gradually, but the connection remained.

I ran my fingers through his damp hair, heart still racing. The room smelled of sex and the faint trace of his cologne. Outside, the night was quiet. Inside, everything felt warm and safe and real.

He eventually withdrew and gathered me against his chest, one hand resting protectively over the small curve of my belly. I closed my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart under my ear.

For the first time in a long while the future didn't feel uncertain or heavy. It felt open. Bright. I was still sore in the best way, still glowing from the way he had looked at me and touched me and spoken to me. Happiness settled deep in my chest, quiet and sure.

Life had finally turned soft around the edges. Beautiful, even. And it was because of him—because of us.

Epilogue

Kiryan

I had lived almost forty years. Blades and gun barrels had never made me flinch. But when she frowned from pain, something invisible clenched around my ribs and wouldn't let go.