Page 1 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

Prologue

Kirill – Past

My mind was a fractured mess. “Breathe through the pain, baby.”

Sandrine was a virgin. And I just took that from her. Me. The heir to the Chicago Bratva. Who’s also more than ten years older than her.

“I’m okay,” she squeaked. “You’re just too fucking big, Kirill.”

I hid a chuckle and kept moving in and out of her. She was wet, so fucking wet. I made sure of it. Made sure I could slide right into her and not hurt her.

But fuck, she was so tight.

I smoothed my fingers over her damp forehead and into her hairline. All that lush blonde hair would stand out in my world of dark-haired, dark-skinned monsters.

Sandrine was a fucking angel.

“Just keep taking my cock, baby.”

She nodded, looking at me with those big amber eyes.

“I’m fine. I promise. It’s…good.”

“I can go slower.” I pivoted my hips back and made the mistake of looking down.

Fuck, there was a lot of blood. It was everywhere. On my cock, on her legs. I’d gutted a man for my father the day before and hadn’t seen this much blood.

Her bleeding all over my cock meant she was mine. Feral possession reared up, and all my muscles tightened.

Feeling like a warrior, I sank back inside her and pulled out again. I repeated this, and all I could think was: I’m the first man inside this cunt.

And the last…

Whoa… I wasn’t ready to get married. But that feeling of owning this innocent woman forever was a high I didn’t expect. To look at her and know I’d been the only man inside her already felt like a drug.

And when she’d be swollen with my child…

Okay, I need to stop.

But that vision of me taking my place as pakhan with this woman at my side was so fucking potent I could taste it.

Her fingertips traced my jaw. “Where did you go just now? Are you thinking of someone else?”

I barked a laugh. “I’m thinking of you, baby. Me. Us,” I whispered and kissed her forehead. “Are you open for a little instruction?”

“Tell me what to do, Kirill. Tell me how to please you.” She lifted her head from the pillow. “I know you’ve been with a lot of women. Were they…all good in bed?”

“No.”

As soon as that answer left my lips, I regretted it. I just admitted I’d been there before and suggested I’d ghost her the way I’d ghosted other women.

Like Tamara.

She was wild. Too wild. She’d been passed around the Bratva. I should have killed that motherfucker father of hers for lying to my father, claiming she was a virgin and would make a good wife for me.

She made me sick. And sleeping with her was a mistake.

I shook that away and looked down at my sweet Sandrine. She had fire. She would make a good pakhan’s wife. She knew her place, but also wanted her own life as an artist.