Page 49 of Forced By the Bratva

I started to move.

Slow at first. Rolling my hips, lifting almost all the way off him before sinking back down. The friction drew a soft moan from my throat.

Fuck!

I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this feeling until now.

I threw my head back and brought my hands to my own breasts, molding them and pinching my nipples the way his fingers had.

He reached out, his hands settling on my hips. He gripped hard enough to leave marks on my skin, guiding the rhythm of my slow whines without forcing it.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed, biting my bottom lip.

My hips rolled against his hard cock as I rubbed my neck, basking in the sensation coursing through my body.

It felt so good.

I quickened the pace, thighs burning as I rode him harder, faster, chasing the heat coiling tighter and tighter in my core.

“Oh, yes,” he groaned, his husky voice fanning the fires of my desire.

My hands tangled in my own hair, pulling it back from my face.

The bed creaked beneath us as he sat up beneath me, still buried deep. The change in angle made me cry out.

He threw his hand around my waist to keep me from slipping while his mouth found my left breast. He sucked hard, teeth grazing the sensitive peak as his hands squeezed the soft flesh.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again, open-mouthed and desperate.

He flipped us without warning.

I landed on my knees, chest pressed to the mattress with my arms stretched out in front of me. He teased me with his cap before entering my wet pussy from behind. The thrust was smooth. Powerful.

The depth of it punched the air from my lungs. I felt him—thick and relentless, hitting a place that made my vision spark.

“Oh, God, that’s so deep.” The word tore out of me. “It’s so fucking deep.”

He slammed into me harder, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls.

One hand gripped my hip. The other tangled in my hair and pulled, arching my back. A sharp spank landed on my ass, drawing a sharp wince from my mouth.

The sting bloomed into heat that only made me clench around him.

“You take me so well,” he growled. “This pussy was made for my cock.”

“Harder,” I gasped. “Fuck me harder, Ilya. I want to feel you for days.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes.”

He delivered. Every thrust drove deeper, and I could feel the thick head of him pressing against my cervix. The stretch was almost too much and somehow still not enough.

My fingers twisted in the sheets, moans spilling out of me without restraint—high, broken, shameless.

He pulled out suddenly.

Before I could protest, I felt the cool, wet slide of his tongue against my ass. “Fuck!” Shock jolted through me and my whole body tensed.