The Fixer (Chicago Bratva 2)

“Sasha,” I choke and drop to my knees in front of her. I lean my forehead against hers and cup the back of her head. “Sasha… you broke my heart,” I admit.

She holds back a sob, her bare belly fluttering. “You’re breaking mine.”

Aw, fuck.

“Maxim, I got out of the car before it blew up because my mom opened my door and told me to... I didn’t know their plan in advance. I wasn’t part of it. I don’t want to be dead to you—or divorced. Please believe me.”

“Sasha,” I croak. I’m broken now. Completely broken. Utterly demolished. Sasha tore me apart and left me gasping for breath on that sidewalk and in that hotel room.

I stroke her hair.

“My mom just cared about the money.” Her voice breaks.

“I know,” I admit.

“She tried to tell me you were planning to kill me, but she was the one with the plans.”

I thumb the tears away, but they keep falling.

“You’re the only person who ever cared about me. I can’t lose you, Maxim. Please.”

“You have me,” I say quickly before she begs more. “You’ll always have me. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

I claim her mouth with the kiss to end all kisses. Searingly passionate. Ravenous. Possessive. I need this woman like I need oxygen. “I’m sorry, sugar,” I rasp against her lips. “I should have trusted you. I should have trusted you back then, and I should have trusted you now. I just—”

“I know. Your mom did a number on you. You think women manipulate. I promise I’ll never trick you. Not ever.”

Hearing my deepest wound spoken aloud by my bride—hearing it understood, held in compassion, does something crazy to me.

All the devastation Sasha wrought on my heart suddenly seems worth it. To be remade this way. With trust between us. With this vulnerability and allowance.

“Sasha, forgive me,” I choke. Now I’m the one begging. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I know you. I should have hung onto that. I know the heart of you. Who you are beneath all the posturing. You’re sweet, and caring and kind. You lift and take care of everyone around you. And, caxapok, I consider taking care of you to be the biggest honor ever bestowed on me. My debt to Igor will never end.”

“Maxim.” Sasha breaks down completely, covering her mouth to hide her sobs.

“Come here, beautiful.” I help her up and kiss her again, pushing her onto her back on the bed.

I go slowly. Like tonight’s our wedding night, and she’s the virgin who waited all these years for me. I kiss from her jaw down her throat. Between her breasts. I squeeze one breast roughly as lust kicks impatiently through my veins, but I force myself to take my time, sucking one nipple into my mouth while I squeeze and massage the breast. “My beautiful wife.” I murmur, switching to the other nipple. I squeeze and pinch the first nipple as I suck the second one.

Sasha’s sobs have calmed, and she moans, thrusting her glorious breasts in the air. I kiss between her breasts and down her belly, flicking my tongue occasionally to make her gasp. I skip her sex, working around one hip and down her inner thigh.

Her legs and belly tremble.

“Let’s see that pretty pussy of yours.” I push her knees wide and just stare, drinking in the sight of her pink, glistening flesh. “You’re always so wet for me, aren’t you, sugar?” I barely brush my thumb over her clit, and she jerks and shivers.

“Y-yes.”

“You saved yourself for me.” I’m a fool, but I want to hear it. That she saved herself for me not because Igor told her to.

“Yes,” she admits. “I always wanted it to be you.”

I lick into her, parting her labia with my tongue, tracing around the inside.

She clamps her knees around my ears.

“Naughty girl.” I give her pussy a little spank. “Keep those knees wide for me.”

“Oh,” she moans.

I apply my tongue with a little more vigor, sucking on her nether lips, nipping. I push her clitoral hood back to get my lips around her little nubbin.

Her hands fly to my head, and she pulls at my hair.

I suck harder and sink my thumb into her channel, pumping it in and out.

“Please, Maxim. I need you.” She pulls my hair, trying to tug my mouth off her.

“You need my cock?”

I’ve never had a woman look at me the way she does now. Like I’m her entire world. Like the sun rises and sets by my word. She nods, never taking her gaze from it’s lock with mine.

“Please,” she begs again.

Well, who the fuck am I to deny my bride anything?

I step off the bed to strip out of my clothes and then climb over her. I don’t want to wear a condom. I want to claim her completely—put babies in that belly of hers and keep her on her back for the rest of her days, but I know it’s not right. She has career dreams that she’s just getting started on. We have plenty of time for a family later. If that’s what she wants.