The Bratva's Captive (Wicked Doms 3)

"Do you?" she whispers. "Tell me how."

"I want to make love to you."

"Do it," she whispers. "I want that, too."

I can't explain it in words. I have no idea how or why this need beats so strong at my chest, but it's undeniable. I need to make love to her, the craving as strong as the compulsion to breathe.

I continue to kiss her, my tongue meeting hers with soft, steady strokes, as I press my body tightly against hers. I want to make love to her. I have to.

I remove my boxers and groan when my swollen cock meets the silky, warm, bare skin between her legs. Christ.

Bracing myself above her, I meet her eyes as I glide my cock between her legs. She's so tight it surprises me, her cunt hugging my cock as if she's a virgin—

Fuck.

"Olena," I demand, my body stilling. "Have you ever had a man?"

She bites her lip as her eyes meet mine, and her silence is answer enough.

Motherfucker. She shouldn't give this to me.

"I can't do this," I say, beginning to pull away, but her arms around my shoulders tighten.

"Yes, you can," she whispers. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" I whisper.

She nods eagerly. "You have no idea," she whispers,

I don't. I have no idea what she wants or why, but she needs this as much as I do.

I can't resist her invitation, not when she pleads like that with wide eyes and parted lips. I'll be gentle with her.

The first thrust of my cock between her legs makes her throw her head back and groan so deeply, so beautifully. She's a masterpiece of feminine beauty and allure, and I want to claim every inch of her. Slowly, carefully, I glide in and out, building a rhythm that claims her body. That makes her mine. Staking a claim on this woman that supersedes everything I've thought before, all of my plans. I have vowed to keep her as mine and to protect her from others. But now? Now, as we join our bodies as one and chase blissful release, I make a vow. I won't just protect her from others. I'll protect her from me. No matter what that takes.

In silent surrender, her tight, hot cunt milking my cock, I take what she gives me. The perfect gift that I don't deserve. I slow my thrusts and ease in and out, trying to ease whatever pain she feels.

Slow, Steady. Hot breaths and slick skin. Panting, holding, melding. We silently forge a bond, broken pasts and violence laid to rest now that she is all mine.

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly, but she throws her head back and her lips part in the most beautiful moan I've ever seen. She's going to climax.

"Come, angel," I grant permission, my own release on the heel of hers as we writhe together in ecstasy. The way she comes is so uninhibited, I drink it in, even as I welcome my own climax. "So beautiful," I groan. "So perfect."

My forehead meets hers, both of us panting as we hold each other close. "Thank you," she whispers.

"Why?"

"Why what?" her eyes are closed, her lips parted.

"Why did you want your first time to be with me?"

She doesn't open her eyes. "Because no matter where we go or what happens to us, I want the memory of my first time to be with the most beautiful man I've ever seen, who knew how to work my body like no one ever did."

"What I've done to you—"

"I haven't forgiven that," she says, not meeting my eyes. "But that was the beginning."

I didn't deserve that, what she gave me. I know I didn't.

But hell, I'll earn it. I'll make it up to her. I'll show her what true dedication is, my unswerving promise to protect her. From her father. From my brothers. From me.

In silence, I clean us up, dropping one silent kiss to her forehead before I go to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth. When I come back, she's got the blanket up to her shoulder, and her eyes are half-lidded with fatigue.

And that's when it hits me. Shit. I never even thought to roll on a condom. So caught up in the moment with her, I've been negligent.

"Are you on birth control?" I ask her. Biting her lip, she shakes her head.

I swallow hard and join her on the bed, "We will—"

But my voice trails off when I hear Shepherd outside the door. He's on his feet, pacing and whining. And that's when I feel it, hear it. The crackling sound of fire. The rise in temperature.

Olena sits up in bed. "Do you smell something?" she asks, her head tipped to the side, but I don't answer her. I step into a pair of shorts and grab my gun. Something is wrong.

"Get dressed," I order. "Now!"