Page 150 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

At this pace, pleasure is all I feel. I drop my head and moan like a cat in heat. Blood roars in my ears, but I hear Kirill growl something in Russian, deep and filthy-sounding. It’s just a hum of words, drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, changing to English. “Oh, fuck yes.”

He sinks his cock deeper, and we both groan at the same time.

“Kirill, please,” I shiver, moaning his name.

He doesn’t say anything back. Just keeps fucking me with a feral edge. My body is all tingles and pulsing. My clit aches, and when I touch it, it’s hot and slick.

“Too fucking good.” He slowly pulls out, inch by torturous inch, then thrusts inside again. “Christ.”

“Kirill, make me come.”

“I will always find you this time.” His fist closes around my hair and drags me forward like I’m on a leash. “I am going to kill whoever tried to take you away from me.”

My orgasm crashes over me, but Kirill comes, too, while pumping me even harder. When he’s finished, he pulls out of me, grunting.

Wrung out, I’m flipped over and carried to the bed. Back to the mess of sheets from this morning’s lovemaking before the sun was even up.

Kirill removes the condom, tosses it, and reaches into his nightstand to put on a fresh one. He gets back on top of me, and enters me again, already hard. He kisses me, devours me, consumes me.

Using his powerful hips, he fucks me so damn deep again. It drives me crazy. He keeps going until we’re both at our limit. This one is brutal. His hands end up around my neck, while he sits up and destroys me with his cock.

I come again in a rush and feel nothing but wetness on my thighs.

“Yeah, you love your husband’s cock.” He keeps pumping. “Fuck, I’m coming again.”

He presses his forehead to mine and shatters inside me. After holding me for a few seconds, he lifts his head. His eyes are red and his cheeks just as flushed.

“Let’s go to sleep so this day ends,” he says, getting up and putting his briefs on.

I slide into a nightshirt and fall back into his arms. Closing my eyes, I hope I don’t see the monster who tied me up today in my nightmares.

* * *

Hours later, lying on my side with Kirill’s body pressed against my back, I wake to the sound of Violet crying down the hall. Kirill is out of bed in a matter of seconds.

“Stay here,” he says, sounding quite awake.

Wearing sweatpants, he leaves the bedroom in a rush. Before I can even sit up, Kirill is back, holding Violet, her arms around his neck.

Hair tangled from sleep, she also clutches the stuffed dinosaur against her wrinkled pink pajama tops. “Can I sleep here?”

My heart breaks instantly, and I lift the blankets. “Come here, sweet girl.”

Kirill puts her on the bed, and she dives under the covers next to me. “Mommy, you smell nice.”

My husband shuts the door and gets back into bed. She immediately latches onto my collar with one hand while Kirill settles beside her, wedging our daughter between us.

This terrifying Bratva king strokes his daughter’s hair with such unbearable gentleness that it physically hurts to watch. The room goes quiet except for Violet’s soft breathing.

Within minutes, she’s asleep again, and Kirill snorts a laugh. “I can bring her back to her room.”

“No.” I nuzzle her, but pull him in close, too. “I need this. I need both of you.”

With his arm wrapped around us, Kirill looks at her, then at me.

“I love you, Sandrine,” he says. “I can’t believe I almost lost you again without telling you that.”