Sinful Bride (Belaya Bratva 3)

After the cake was cut and toasts were made, I had the DJ play something loud and obnoxious to get people to dance before I grabbed Naomi’s hand and pulled her inside. “Gavril,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling when I stole a kiss in the hallway. “Everyone will know.”

I arched a brow, pressing my hands on the wall on either side of her head. “Know that I’m madly in love with you? That I can’t keep my fucking hands off you for one fucking minute? That I’ve waited hours to be buried inside your sweet pussy?”

Her eyes widened as I ground my body against hers, careful not to put too much pressure on her stomach. Now that our child was growing, it was becoming a challenge to find ways to pleasure Naomi, but I relished it.

After all, I had always liked a challenge.

Her hand rested on my chest, the brilliance of her rings sparkling in her sunlight. “I do love to hear you say how much you love me.”

Naomi’s words were casual, but I could feel the heaviness of them inside me. “You will never have to guess again,” I said in a low voice, my hand reaching to cup her cheek and bring her eyes to mine. “You know that, right?”

She nodded, leaning into my touch. “Of course I know how you feel about me, Gavril. I will never doubt your love.”

I dropped my hands from her body only to sweep her into my arms, grinning as I heard her squeal of protest. “Gavril!” she said, throwing her arms around my neck. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to our bed,” I murmured as I walked toward our suite. “So that I can make love to my wife.”

Naomi sighed happily as she laid her head on my chest. “Wife. I don’t know if I can get used to that.”

I reached around and squeezed her ass. “You will get used to it, for there will never be another wife for me.” It was the truth. Even if in the future something happened to the woman in my arms, I would never look at another the way I looked at her. Naomi held my heart in more ways than one, and I didn’t think she realized how strongly that hold was.

“And there will never be another husband for me,” she answered softly as I pushed the door open to our suite with my foot before striding to the bedroom. Someone had already turned down the sheets, spreading rose petals on the bed and lighting candles around the room, and I deposited my wife on the bed, letting her take in the romantic gesture.

When I kneeled before her, Naomi let out a small start of surprise. “What are you doing?” she asked, watching as I reached for her shoe.

I met her gaze with my own. “I’m undressing you.”

“By starting with my shoes?” she asked lightly, heat in her gaze. “I would much prefer you to start somewhere else, husband.”

I quirked a smile, running my hand up her smooth calf. “Patience, my dear wife. Patience.” I was going to devour every inch of her skin.

Naomi gasped softly as my hand rose higher until my fingers were caressing her knee. “Your skin is so smooth,” I told her, flirting with the hem of her dress. “Like silk under my touch.”

I heard her breath hitch as I grazed the top of her thigh before pulling away and starting with her other leg. Naomi threw her head back, and I growled deep down that she was having that sort of reaction to a simple touch.

I could do this all day.

Inching her skirts up, I exposed her pale, creamy thighs, teasing myself with a glimpse of her lacy panties. “Fuck, Naomi,” I breathed, my hands sliding up her legs to her thighs and gently pushing them apart. “You are already wet, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she moaned, sliding her legs open. “Touch me, Gavril.”

Oh, I was going to touch her, all right, but in my own time.

Using my fingers, I pulled down the thin scrap of lace and threw them on the floor, her arousal assaulting my senses. “You are beautiful,” I told her, my hand sliding over her wet slit. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Gavril, please,” she said, tugging on my arms. “Please.”

Dipping my head, I inhaled her scent before my tongue traced her slit, searching for the tight nub beneath the folds. “Oh God,” she gasped, her hands delving into my hair. “Right there.”

Grabbing her legs, I opened them wider to give me better access, devouring her until she fell apart against my mouth. My cock pressed hard against the trousers of my tux, but I waited until I had lapped up the rest of her orgasm before I backed away. “You taste exquisite,” I told her, reaching for the front of my pants.

The lingering effects of her orgasm still shone in Naomi’s eyes as she reached for her dress, but I shook my head. “Leave it on,” I rasped, pushing down my pants to let my cock spring free. “I want to fuck you like the bride you are.”

“Your bride,” she added, crooking a finger at me. “Then come fuck me, husband.”

Growling, I knelt on the bed, my cock positioned at her entrance. Could I really fuck the same woman for the rest of my life?

Yeah, it wasn’t even a question. Naomi was all that I wanted. I had fucked many women in my lifetime, but none had made me feel the way that she made me feel.