Page 125 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

“You’re right. Men with my blood indulged in filthy sex.” He sinks two fingers past my ring of nerves, shooting a sensation right to my core. “Jesus, this tight hole drove me crazy.”

I’m ready to engage in the same sexy banter, but I gasp a moan hearing his belt buckle jingle. One hand is pleasuring me anally, and I picture his other hand reaching into his pants to take out his cock.

“God, you’re gonna come so hard.” His raw silk trousers rub against the outside of my thighs, but he doesn’t take them off. He’s going to fuck me with his pants still on. God, I find that so sexy.

I lose control and start to hump the comforter, feeling how dripping-wet my pussy is. He uses more oil, really slicking me up. The wet sound mixed with the rhythm of his fingers fucking me there makes me ache for him to the point I’m ready to pass out.

I breathe through it. I need this. I want this. I want to give myself to him this way.

“Hold on, moya zhena. This is what you get when you give a man like me permission to ruin you.” He removes his fingers, and both hands grip my waist.

Steadying me. Steadying himself, maybe, as the swollen head of his cock nudges up with my rear hole entrance.

“Hold on, baby,” he growls, sliding right into me.

Slowly, inch by inch. The pleasure is unbearable.

“Christ,” he mutters.

I feel so full, but then he slides back out, and it’s just as good. Then, without warning, he rams into me with one powerful stroke, going balls-deep.

I gasp, and feel tears prick my eyes. I lower my face into the wetness on the bedsheets, letting the pleasure consume me.

Kirill’s hands leave my waist and then slide up my arms until he’s got my wrists pinned. He falls into a rhythm while I sob in the pleasure of it. All while I’m held down on the mattress, being fucked in the ass by the Bratva Pakhan.

Who is also my husband.

“Don’t stop,” I mutter, lost in a decadent haze of euphoria.

“I won’t.”

My dark and lethal husband, who makes men shake with just a look, fucks the crap out of me. His enormous cock, drenched with the lube, makes a mess of my ass. We’re both groaning and grunting. God, I hope no one can hear us out in the hall.

“Come for me, wife.” Kirill’s one hand slaps my ass.

A shocked memory comes back to me. It’s so clear. I’m bent over the arm of a sofa, completely naked, and Kirill is taking me hard, slapping my ass with his belt.

Come for me, you little slut. You love my cock…

In that moment, nearly our whole sexual history uploads into my brain from somewhere. That’s who we were. This is who he made me. A slut for his cock.

I loved it then. I love it now.

I… I loved him then. I feel it. I know it.

And I think I love him now, again.

Things turn raw, and I start to slide over the edge.

“Kirill,” I moan.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name. Men chant it. But hearing it drip off your mouth while I’m inside your ass does so much more to fuel my power.”

“Kirill.” I cry out as I climax all over the bed, my clit throbbing.

As my walls tighten, the muscles clamp down around his thickness and length buried inside of me.

“That’s right, you come for me. Only me. I own you.” He thrusts a few more times and then pulls out.