The Bratva's Baby (Wicked Doms 1)

“You lied?” he asks sternly before he delivers three more rapid, stinging smacks to my naked skin. “You know better than that, young lady.”

I smile to myself. I’ve missed this.

“But you didn’t touch yourself?” Another swat. My skin stings and burns so good. I shake my head.

“I didn’t,” I confess. “I want you to.”

His body over mine, I’m engulfed by his heat, his scent, his controlled dominance. I shiver in anticipation just before he fondles between my legs and strokes my clit.

“Beautiful girl,” he whispers.

I arch into his back and groan when he strokes my slick folds. I need more. Harder. Faster.

“On your back,” he orders, helping me flip back over onto my back. I bite my lip, smiling to myself as he arranges pillows all around me to ease my comfort.

“I’m fine, Kazimir,” I protest, but his frown conveys his message, and I close my mouth.

“You’re carrying my child,” he says as if that explains the mountain of pillows around me. But when he buries himself between my legs and I feel his hot breath between my thighs, I shiver in delight. “Do you like that?”

“Yessss,” I groan when he swipes his tongue between my folds. It feels so good I can’t breathe, I can’t even think. I keen with pleasure when he rocks his mouth against me, licking and sucking with such expertise I’m nearing the edge of release so quickly, I’m almost disappointed. I wanted this to last longer than half a minute.

“Wait until I tell you that you can come,” he tells me.

“I’m ready,” I tell him.

“Wait.”

“Sir!” I’m desperate, pleading.

“Wait,” he repeats, returning to the torturous assault of his tongue. I can’t hold on much longer. I close my eyes with the effort and hold my breath, trying to distract myself.

“If you come, I’ll take my belt to your ass,” he grates, the heat of his mouth between my thighs making me moan. “You’ll wait until I tell you.”

“Kazimir, please,” I beg, weaving my fingers through the dark head of hair between my thighs. A flick of his tongue and I see stars, I’m blinded on the edge of bliss.

“I’ll whip you,” he growls, with a torturously light touch of his tongue between my legs. Kissing my inner thighs, he groans. “I can taste your arousal on your legs. Christ, woman, you slay me.”

“Then let me come,” I beg, my voice breathy. I squeal as he nips my inner thigh.

“Is that what you want?” he lazily laps at my folds.

“Yes,” I pant, desperate. “Yes yes yes yes yes. Please.”

One more suckle and I’m coming apart at the seams as he thrusts two fingers in my channel. “Come, Sadie,” he orders.

I come so hard, I shatter into pieces. My backside lifts so high off the bed, he yanks my thighs and pulls me back down, I scream his name, bucking beneath him, climaxing so hard my muscles contract. I’m on the edge of coming down from the torrent of bliss when he slams his cock into me. I groan in pain and pleasure, the two inexplicably entwined, every thrust taking me closer and closer to a second climax.

“I love you,” I breathe. He stills for a split second before he impales me again, this time harder than the last. My body is pressed against his, sweaty and heated, my arms wrapped around his strong, powerfully muscled body. He groans his own release, before he finally slows his thrusts and drops his forehead to mine.

“You’re a good girl,” he whispers. “And I love you. I don’t deserve a girl like you, but now that you’re mine, I will treasure you until the day I die.”

I can’t fathom how we’ll make this work. I have no idea how we’ll parent a child, two broken people like us with no solid place in this world. But when he sets his mind to something, he does it, and I’m no slouch. This child we have between us will have everything it needs to thrive in this world. No matter what we have to give up in the process.Kazimir is on the phone in the living room when I get out of the shower. I smile to myself at the tousled sheets on the bed. God, I needed that.

My stomach aches with hunger when I see the large platters on the little table beside the bed. I’m starving, and this food looks amazing.

Bowls of porridge with berries and cream, platters of eggs and potatoes. Toasted crusty bread with butter and jam, and a silver pot filled with fragrant tea. I wrap the towel around me and don’t even bother to change. Heaping food on a plate, I happily tuck in.

Kazmir’s voice sounds harsh in the other room, angry even, but I don’t really pay attention. It’s not uncommon for him to conduct business like this, and I prefer to be ignorant about what he does. Especially now that we’ll have a child between us. The less I know, the better.