Midnight Oath (Tasarov Bratva 1)

I take my time getting to it. I press small kisses down her neck and nip at her collarbone, circling around and around, until my tongue flicks out and laps up the sweetness. The cake’s sweetness, her sweetness—it’s hard to tell where one stops and the other begins. In the end, it doesn’t really matter.

I sigh and lean back. “I’ve told you from the start that this doesn’t have to be painful.”

She stiffens. “I’m not making it painful.”

“Yes, you are. You don’t know how to listen.”

Emery pulls back to frown at me. Her lips are red and swollen from kissing. “I know how to listen.”

“Is that right?”

She nods.

“Okay, then.” I prop myself upright on my elbows. “Take off your clothes.”

She draws in a deep, shuddering breath. I don’t look away from her, not even for an instant.

Then, slowly, she rises to her feet. Slowly, she pulls her tank top over her head. Slowly, she lets it fall from her fingers to the floor.

The bra she has on underneath is a lacy, skimpy thing that barely covers her nipples.

“Did you put that on for me, kiska?” I ask.

“Maybe,” she admits shyly, even as her cheeks turn pink.

I bite back a feral growl. “Good girl. Now get rid of it.”

She reaches around and unclasps the bra, sliding it off her arms. Her breasts spill free. I can’t resist reaching out and brushing my thumb over her pointed nipple. Emery’s eyes flutter closed.

“Keep going,” I growl. “I want you naked. Now.”

Without opening her eyes, she hooks her fingers in the waistband of her shorts and drops the material to the floor.

She’s perfect. Her strong thighs, the swell of her hips, and the narrow tapering of her waist. I want to run my hands over every inch of her. But first…

“On your knees.”

She’s eager to obey now. Emery drops to the floor in front of me and reaches for my pants before I can even order her. She slides the zipper down and pulls me free. When she eyes me, licking her lips in anticipation, I could explode right then and there.

“Taste me, moya zhena.”

She leans forward and takes me down her throat.

I’ve imagined this too many times to count, working out my frustrations alone at night, but nothing compares to the real thing. Her tongue laps against my shaft as she grips my base, massaging with her hands all the places her mouth can’t quite reach.

“Fuck,” I growl. She showered after we came in from the beach, so her hair is soft and clean. I grab a handful on the back of her head and thrust gently.

She gags on me only once before she finds a rhythm, taking me deeper and deeper with every stroke. When she moans, the vibrations work through me to my very core. I have to fight not to finish down her throat.

I pull her off of me, and she gasps for breath.

“Lie down. Now.” I point to the sofa, and Emery lies on her back next to me.

I part her legs, wrapping my hands around her warm thighs. I kiss the inside of each of her legs. I breathe across her sensitive skin until she’s trembling.

It’s slow torture, so when I finally lick across her wetness, she whimpers. That sound alone almost makes me explode.

But she will come first. Several times, if I have my way.

With every lash of my tongue, her hips buck. I press my tongue inside of her and her entire body lifts off the couch like she’s levitating in bliss.

“Come for me,” I tell her.

With those three little words, she breaks. Her body seizes, going rigid at first and then soft and pliant in my arms. The pleasure works through her in waves of clenching and relaxing.

When it’s done, I lay her on the cushions and crawl over her.

“See how nice things can be when you listen?” I whisper against her stomach. I drag my tongue up her body in a line, moving between her breasts and then around them. “Do as I say… listen to me… and I’ll take care of you.”

She grabs my face and brings my eyes to hers. “Then take care of me.”

I make quick work of my pants, shucking them down my legs so I can kick them off. Emery locks her heels at my lower back and I slide into her like she was made for me. Like we were built to fit together this way.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, dropping her forehead to my shoulder. “This is… you feel…”

I pull back and press into her again, reveling in how her mouth parts in a silent moan.

“It’s rare to see you speechless,” I remark.

“Shut up,” she gasps. “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Ask and you shall receive.”

I drive my hips brutally hard into her. Emery cries out and claws at my chest. With every thrust, I feel her clench me tighter. I feel the pressure between us build to a steaming whistle.

And when it finally blows, it takes us both with it.

I come with a roar, emptying myself into her. Give a little to get a little—in this instant, it’s literal. I give her everything I have. She takes it and gives me back everything she has. Every sputtering, gasping moan. Every flutter of her fingers, her eyelashes, her breath.

She gives me her body.

She gives me her heart.

She gives me her soul.

And, God help us both… I take all of it.

Once we’re both spent and clean, I cut two proper slices of cake and plate them. We recline on the deep couch cushions, naked and wrapped in a blanket, with cake on our laps.

“This is the picture perfect honeymoon,” Emery says, taking a large bite of the cake. “The wedding was a nightmare, but this is a dream.”

“I’ve dreamed plenty,” I tell her. “None were like this. None were like you.”

She blushes and fidgets. “Ditto. Literally and figuratively.”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

“Just means you’re head and shoulders above the rest. By default.”

My frown deepens. “You have Isabella. You must have had—”

Emery is staring down at her cake. The blissed-out smile from a moment ago is gone. Her body is tight with tension. If I could rip it out of her, I would.

“Emery.”

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. It’s fine. I don’t want—”

“Emery,” I say again. Just her name, but it works like the key that opens the floodgates.

“I don’t remember it,” she says suddenly. She takes a deep breath and then looks at me. Her eyes are glassy with haunted tears. “What happened with Emery’s… dad. I don’t remember who he was or what we did. I just remember waking up the next morning, alone and covered in bruises.”

She falls quiet.

And as she does, a kind of rage I’ve never felt before rises inside of me. It’s not hot and sharp the way my anger usually is, lashing out and cutting down everything in its path. It’s more like a fire beneath the earth. A slow-burning, eternal flame.

Instead of going dizzy with anger, I feel more clarity than I’ve ever experienced in my life.

“You were raped,” I rasp.

Emery sighs. “Maybe I was drunk. Or drugged. I really don’t know. But nine months later, I had Isabella.”

“And that’s why your family cut you off.”

She nods hesitantly. “They wanted me to get rid of her. They didn’t like how it would look, and they didn’t want me to come forward with my story.”

“But you kept her.”

“Yeah, I kept her. And I left. I did it all on my own because there wasn’t another choice.”

I reach over and brush her hair behind her ear. She’s staring down at her lap, but I force her eyes to mine. “Of course you had another choice. You could have caved to their demands. But you did the brave thing. You did what you wanted and took the harder road.”

“I stumbled through it,” she protests feebly. “I didn’t know what I was doing. And even though I don’t remember what happened, I haven’t been able to be… physical with anyone—even myself—since I got pregnant.”

“You mean, you hadn’t had an orgasm in—”

“Six years,” she finishes. “Yeah. I know, I’m a freak.”

I grab her hand and bring her knuckles to my lips. “No, you’re strong. Stronger than I knew.”

She gives me a sad smile. “A compliment from Adrik Tasarov? I’ll take it.”

“Then take this, too: I promise that if I ever find out who hurt you… I’ll kill them.”

Her green eyes flash. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I know I don’t,” I say. “But I will.”

“I’ve moved on.” She lifts her left hand and waggles her ring finger. “And I have Isabella. So even if I could, I wouldn’t go back and change anything.”

“Just because you made it through doesn’t make it okay,” I snarl. “I meant what I said, what I keep saying: I promised to protect you and Isabella, and that’s what I’ll do. If I ever find out who hurt you, I’ll kill them. Simple as that.”

She stares at me for a second, uncertainty flickering across her face.

Then, slowly, she settles back down. She leans against my bare chest, and we slip into an easy, sated silence.