Page 10 of Bred By the Bratva

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He rumbles a deep sound from the back of his throat when my ass rubs against his hard cock and I’m instantly thrown into sensory overload. The cool ocean air, the scent of him, his heat, the small caresses, and the large promise tapping my ass all have my head spinning. He makes me feel alive and I can’t find anything wrong with that.

I can’t narrow in on anything beyond the fact I almost died and now I am in the arms of my dream man. Tightness in my throat causes white dots to linger in my vision.

I force my heart into a steadier rhythm.

“Breathe,” I hear him say and I draw oxygen into my lungs. “Just follow me and breathe when I do,” he coaxes. For several moments I stare into his eyes and inhale when he does.

“Vannah,” I offer as another way to ground myself before I let my fantasies carry me out of the land of reality. My voice is strong but roughened by sea water. I purposefully left off the tainted surname I’m saddled with. He’ll find out soon enough but for right now I just want to keep this as simple as possible.

“Vannah,” he repeats and with his accent, the vowels soften with his rumbling baritone. He wraps his fingers around one of my trembling hands. “I promise on my life you are safe with me.”

His deep voice works into my tense muscles and I feel myself start to relax into his hold. The clamp of fear holding my air passages hostage starts to feel less life-threatening, too.

He brushes the wet hair from my face and pulls something high over my cold body. A shirt, I realize. It smells like it could be his. I snuggle deeper into his arms and welcome the warmth he shares. Around us, this horrible day begins to fade to dusk. Thank God, too. I literally can’t wait to see morning and put this day behind me.

The sun dips below the horizon to wash the early evening in shades of purples and pinks. It’s beautiful and I’m here to witness it.

As I stare into Maxim’s eyes, I begin to think that maybe not all is lost.

The glint in his gaze, the soft touch, his protective embrace all work to free my muscles of tension. He lowers his lips to mine and murmurs, “Otkryt' dlya menya. Open for me.”

My face warms but I do as he gruffly commands. Because what are my other options? I look like a drowned mouse in the middle of nowhere in a speedboat going I have no idea where and it’s going to be dark soon.

Besides, I want this. I’ve had it bad for this man for a long time. He traps my mouth in a hard, claiming kiss. I use the word trap, but I kiss him right back. The need to feel drives my tongue into his mouth and the second the tip of my tongue finds his, he hollows his cheeks and sucks.

I groan into his mouth. Damn, that is sexy.

He tastes of wild adventure, forbidden lust, and bittersweet desire I have no business entertaining. Wanting him is the worst thing I can do right now but I love the feeling of the hot blood rushing through my veins. The feeling of being alive.

So I kiss my mafia stranger back twice as hard. My fingers work their way up his hard chest and into his hair. I moan into his mouth again when he releases my tongue and sweeps his over mine. I press against his hard cock and it is as if he reads my mind.

Strong hands turn me fully around and I spread my legs over his lap. Straddling him like this, I cling to him and whimper for more shamelessly. His hips grind against me and I return the favor and melt a little at the jolt of excitement shooting through me.

Beneath me, I feel the boat slow and moments later we come to a gliding stop.

It’s kind of funny to think about, but I nearly died today and it seems my reward is a dark, broody mafia man whose kisses are bringing me back to life.


Tags: Penelope Wylde Erotic