Damaged Prince (Koalistia Bratva 1)

“Yes,” she answered in a hurried whisper.

My fingers tightened slightly, but just barely. “Do you want me to fuck you, Manya?” I asked, in that same tone. Her heartbeat increased further, the leg around my hips pulling as if begging me to increase my pace. My thrusts were shallow, rolling movements only.

“Yes,” she breathed out, her voice pleading now.

My fingers flexed against her throat, my hips slowing further despite her mewl of protest. “Yes?” I asked, forcing her face to meet my gaze.

“Yes, spaseeba, yes,” she begged, her pussy fluttering around me as she tried to arch her back away from the wall. When I stopped moving entirely, I heard her groan—and felt it too. Her eyes widened in confusion as she tried again to force me to her with her leg.

“Yes?” I double-checked, one eyebrow cocking.

Comprehension dawned slowly, some unfettered emotion passing along her features as the blush across her cheekbones deepened. Just like I had been hoping, it spread, crawling down around where I held her by the throat… and lower, dusting the tips of her breasts as she leaned back, looking at me and wetting her lips again.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. Even with her voice pitched so low, her excitement was clear.

My fingers tightened automatically around her throat just so that it was difficult for her to pull that air in—just so that I could lift her that slightest bit more as I pulled my hips back . . . and slammed them forward into her, feeling the way her body convulsed around me as I did so.

My lips swallowed her sudden loud moans, my teeth pulling at her lower lip as I rolled my hips in tighter, faster circles against her, as I allowed myself to get lost in the noise and feel of her. She started to lift on her toes to meet me thrust for thrust, her nipples dragging up and down my chest.

“Manya,” I growled, and it was both a warning and praise. My stomach tightened as I felt her tighten over me. My pace slipped, my control flashing for just a moment as I adjusted my grip around her throat. With my other hand I lifted her thigh higher, changing the angle that I entered her at, and I felt it almost instantaneously.

Her body stiffened, and a strangled noise left her as I finally let go of her throat. The full volume of those moans reached my ear as she climaxed around me, and I allowed myself to follow her over that threshold far sooner than I was used to. Her hips clamped around mine, pulling me in deeper as she gasped for air around each moan. I fell against her as I came, pushing her back into the wall we were propped against.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her hips jerking beneath mine as her thighs trembled in the wake of her orgasm. I lifted my hand without pushing myself off of or out of her, bringing the belt and her wrists down so that she could rest her strained arms over my shoulders. “Oh my god.”

I chuckled against her breastbone, pressing my lips into the heated flesh there.

“We just. . . .”

“Da,” I answered shortly, my fingers lifting her face back to my own as I straightened up. I kissed her slowly, without all the rushing need and desire that had fueled it before. “And we will again. As soon as we can get upstairs.”

“Why? What’s upstairs?” she asked dazedly, barely noticing as I took the belt from around her wrists, my fingers massaging blood flow back into her skin.

“Our bed… and soon to be me, on my back, with you over me,” I said slowly, watching the heat fill her gaze once more.

“Oh.” She exhaled the word in a sigh, straightening and almost pouting as I slid out of her with one swift motion.

“Da, so. Upstairs we go.” I bent, lifting her off of her feet to cradle her body against my chest. I chuckled at the sudden way that she grasped my neck for support.

I couldn’t have cared less at that moment about the knife wound beating, with some far-off pain in my arm or the blood that streaked our living room wall. I couldn’t care about the target on my head or Shura’s parting words as we left Maple house.

I cared only about making that vision of my wife over me come to fruition. I wanted to lose myself further in the warm embrace of her body and memorize those curves that had enraptured me so. Tomorrow, there would be time for family business. There would be time for reports and finding my Pahkan.

I would have my wedding night.

With almost two days and a handful of traded insults between us. . .

It was my wedding night nonetheless, and all the more fitting for it.