Page 40 of Forced By the Bratva

“You wanna know what I think?” She stared at me. “I think you wanna marry me just so you can own me and keep me under control.” A pause. “You don’t care about me. All you care about is yourself! Your name. Your ego. Your reputation…”

She was still talking when I closed the distance between us and sealed her lips with a kiss. Her voice went silent, and she struggled for a moment before slowly letting her guard down.

I slid my tongue into her mouth, and she did the same, the scent of her shampoo filling the space between us.

Before things could heat up, she tore her lips from mine and stepped back. Her chest heaved slowly, her eyes wide with something dark and primal.

I wanted more of her.

And judging by the insatiable need perched on her face, the feeling was mutual.

“Why’d you do that?” she asked, her voice low, her palm on her mouth.

“Because I wanted to. Because it’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

She swallowed, unable to look away from me. By now, the air had shifted from hostile to something more sexual.

My heart was racing in anticipation of her next move. I thought I’d regret kissing him, but I didn’t.

“Tell me you didn’t like it,” I dared her, taking slow steps forward. “Tell me you don’t want me as badly as I want you, and I’ll walk away.” That was a promise intended to keep.

Her lips trembled, and her eyes locked on mine, telling me everything I needed to know. She was already turned on.

“Fuck it,” she mumbled under her breath.

I reached for her as quickly as she reached for me. My hand slid into her wet hair, and I pulled her mouth to mine.

The kiss was harder this time, teeth and heat and the soft sound she made when I deepened it. She kissed me back just as fiercely, her fingers curling into the front of my black singlet.

Her head moved with mine, instinctively matching my rhythm as she moaned in my mouth. I pulled her closer, the print of my erection brushing against her.

My hand traveled underneath her towel, teasing and caressing her inner thighs.

Effortlessly, I lifted her, set her on the edge of the table by the window, and stepped between her thighs.

The towel rode up. My hands gripped her bare hips, keeping her open for me. She gasped against my mouth when I pressed closer.

She slid her hand down, bold and uncertain at the same time, stroking the hard length of my cock through my pants. The pressure of her palm dragged a low sound from my throat.

“You feel that?” I growled against her lips. “That’s what you do to me. You make me hard.”

She groaned softly, tilting her head upward while I kissed her neck.

I pushed the towel higher and slipped two fingers between her legs. She was already soaked, soft and hot.

“Look at you,” I whispered, basking in the expression on her face. “You’re wet already.”

Her teeth grazed her lower lip, her warm hazel eyes flashing with desire.

The second I stroked her clit, she moaned, quietly at first, then broken, her lips parting as her eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Fuck,” she breathed, arching her back in response to my touch.

So beautiful.

I worked her carefully, pushing deeper inside her wetness while watching her face contort in pleasure.

Her brows drew together, the soft flush climbing her cheeks as her lips parted in a silent scream. Her breath was shaky, her thighs trembling around my hand.