Midnight Lies (Tasarov Bratva 2)

“Because I was mad,” I admit, finally looking up at him. “It felt like… It feels like you are pulling away from me. I was scared and hurt and, I don’t know. I guess I wanted to hurt you, too.”

Slowly, Adrik sets his food to the side and starts moving our picnic out of the way. Then, he takes the donut I’ve been twirling out of my hand and sets it aside, too. I’m so busy watching him that I don’t really have time to wonder what he’s doing until he grabs my face in his hands and looks into my eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he breathes. “You, Emery Tasarov, are mine.”

For the third time tonight, tears pool in my eyes. But for the first time, they aren’t from anger.

Adrik kisses me tenderly, his lips soft and warm against me. I instantly go limp, melting against him. He gathers me up in his strong arms and lays me back gingerly on the fleece blanket.

Our wet clothes are peeled away bit by bit and then I’m naked, pressed against the expanse of Adrik’s tan, warm skin, and I feel like an animal.

I don’t care that we’re in an abandoned bodega on the floor.

I don’t care that a storm is raging just beyond the glass.

All I can think about is having his body over me and around me and inside of me and my God, if it doesn’t happen right this instant I might die.

I reach between us and wrap my hand around his hard length. He hisses out a breath, and I spread my legs and press him to my entrance.

“Now,” I whimper. “Please. I want you now.”

Adrik drags his teeth over my collarbone and then kisses my neck as he thrusts into me. “I want you always,” he whispers.

I wrap my arms around him and take him in again and again. The pleasure builds consistently, rising to a peak and then breaking in a soft, easy kind of way. My body pulses around him and it’s so sweet and gentle that I could cry.

But I’ve done more than enough of that tonight already.

“I feel you,” Adrik grits out, grinding his hips into mine. “You came for me.”

I throw my arms over my head, stretching. “I did.”

He bends forward and takes my nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around me before dragging his teeth over my sensitive skin. Then he looks up at me and smiles. “My turn.”

Suddenly, Adrik wraps his arm around me and flips me flat onto my stomach. Then he grips my hips, angling me the way he wants, and slides inside of me again.

His movements are strong and sure now. He digs his fingers into me as he slams into me again and again.

And this is what it’s like with him. What everything is like. One minute, things are gentle and calm; the next, they are earth-shattering and out of control.

But I love all of it.

I arch my back and try to give him more of me, try to take him deeper.

“Fuck,” he groans, dragging me harder onto himself.

I felt spent after I finished the first time, but I can feel an orgasm roaring to life in me again. With every thrust, he’s ratcheting my pleasure higher and higher.

Soon, I’m crying out with every connection, screaming up to the water-stained ceiling, begging for Adrik to finish me.

“Please, please,” I cry out. “Let me come. I’m going to come.”

“Come for me, my wife,” he growls. “Let me hear you come undone.”

And I do. My legs shake as pleasure tears through me. My muscles twist and contort. A second later, I feel Adrik pulsing his release into me.

He collapses against my back, his warmth soaking into my bones, and we lay in a naked, spent heap.

When he rolls off of me, I let my arms fall on the rumpled fleece blanket. I glance down to see Lady Liberty looking right at me from the embroidery with what appears to be a judgmental auntie kind of expression on her face. I laugh.

Adrik leans over and presses a kiss to my shoulder. He smells like rain and musk and chocolate donuts.

I want to crawl over him and do it all again. And maybe I will. But first, I pat the blanket. “Still think we can roll this up and leave it behind?”

He smirks. “Fuck no. I’m taking it with me as a souvenir.”