My throat tightens.
“I spent years believing loyalty only existed inside the Bratva,” he adds softly. “You proved me wrong.”
He takes my hand in his. “Marry me,” he says.
Emotion rises so quickly that I can barely catch my breath. “Yes.” The answer leaves me before I can even think about it. “Yes,” I repeat, laughing softly through the sudden tears stinging my eyes.
Kiren exhales quietly as he rises from the floor. The ring slides onto my finger, the metal cool against my skin. Then his hands move to my waist. He pulls me toward him.
The kiss that follows is deep and certain, months of tension and quiet longing dissolving between us. My arms slide around his neck as his hand rests gently against my back, careful of the life growing between us.
Kiren tastes like rich coffee and promises, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. The heavy diamond on my finger reflects the sunlight as I bury my fingers in his thick hair, pulling him impossibly closer. The air in the room feels thick, charged with the electric current of finally belonging to him completely.
A low groan vibrates in his chest, spilling into my mouth. In one smooth motion, he lifts me, his strength effortless despite my added weight. My legs wrap instinctively around his waist, the soft blue robe falling open to expose my swollen, sensitive breasts to the cool air. He presses me against the wall, trapping me there with the hard, heated length of his body. His mouth never leaves mine, devouring me like a man starved, while his hips roll forward, grinding the thick bulge in his trousers against my soaked panties.
“Kiren,” I gasp against his lips, my head falling back as his mouth trails down my throat.
He doesn't answer with words. Instead, his rough hand finds my breast, his thumb dragging over the tight peak. The sensation shoots straight to my clit, making my inner walls clench around nothing. He pinches the sensitive nipple, rolling it between his fingers, teasing me until I’m writhing against the wall, desperate for more friction. The contrast between the gentle way he holds my pregnant belly and the rough dominance of his touch makes my head spin.
“Look at you,moya,” he rasps, his voice thick with lust. “So beautiful.”
His other hand slips between my thighs, pushing the silk aside. His fingers find my clit instantly, swollen and aching for him. He circles the sensitive nub with a maddeningly slow rhythm, collecting my wetness and using it to slide more easily. I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body trembling as he strokes me. He knows exactly how to touch me, how to wind me tight until I’m right on the edge, teetering between pleasure and madness.
Before I can fall, he pulls his hand away, ignoring my whine of protest. He carries me to the massive bed, laying me down against the pillows with a reverence that makes my heart ache. He looms over me, stripping off his shirt to reveal the hard, sculpted muscles of his chest and the scars that map his violent life. He joins me on the mattress, his body covering mine, his hand returning to the heat between my legs.
“Mine,” he growls, sinking two fingers deep into my pussy while his thumb returns to torture my clit. “Allmine.”
His fingers work inside me, a relentless, possessive rhythm that has my back arching off the mattress, but just as the crest threatens to break, he withdraws. The sudden emptiness draws a ragged groan from my throat, my hips chasing his retreat, desperate for the friction he denied me. Kiren doesn’t leave me wanting for long. His hands hook into the waistband of the panties. With a rough tug, he peels the fabric down my legs in one fluid motion. The cool air of the room hits my overheated, slick skin, sending a shiver racing up my spine.
He tosses the discarded panties aside without a second glance, his dark eyes fixed on the exposed curve of my belly and the wet heat between my thighs. I lie there, vulnerable and open, the heavy swell of my pregnancy rising and falling with my shallow breaths. I am completely bare before him, every inch of my changing body on display.
“Ty u menya dykhaniye perekhvatyvaesh,” he murmurs, the Russian words low and reverent.You take my breath away.
He stands then, his hands moving to his belt. The metal buckle clinks, a sharp sound in the quiet room. I watch, propped up on my elbows, as he strips. His shirt hits the floor, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the map of old scars that trace his history. Then his pants follow, kicking them away until he stands naked, his erection jutting thick and heavy.
The sight of him makes my mouth go dry, a fresh wave of arousal pooling between my legs. He is magnificent, hard muscle and raw power, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only water in a desert. He climbs back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and crawls up the length of my body. But he doesn't stop at my mouth. Instead, he grips my hips, his hands strong and demanding, and pushes my legs apart.
“Kiren,” I gasp, my hands tangling in the sheets as he nestles between my thighs.
He hooks one arm under my knee, lifting it high and draping it over his shoulder. The position opens me completely to him, leaving me nowhere to hide. He leans down, his breath hot against my sensitive, swollen folds. The first touch of his tongue is a shock. A broad, flat stroke drags through my wetness from bottom to top. I cry out, my head falling back, my fingers gripping his hair.
He devours me. There’s no other word for it. He eats my pussy like a starving man, his tongue delving deep inside my hole to gather my juices before swirling up to circle my aching clit. He sucks the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just enough to send a jolt of electricity through my nervous system.
He licks a stripe from my entrance all the way up, bypassing my clit to tease the sensitive skin at the very top of my thigh before diving back in. He fucks me with his tongue, thrusting it in and out in a mimicry of what I know is coming, while his nose rubs against my clit. The pressure builds low in my belly, a tight coil of pleasure that winds tighter with every lick of his tongue. I grind my hips against his face, chasing the friction, using his mouth for my own pleasure. He lets me, encouraging me with a growl that vibrates against my flesh.
“Please,” I beg, though I don’t know if I’m asking him to stop or keep going until I explode. “Kiren, p-please.”
He pulls away just as the orgasm begins to crest, leaving me panting and trembling on the edge. He lifts his head, his chin glistening with my arousal, a dark, predatory look in his eyes. He lowers my leg from his shoulder but keeps it spread wide. Hemoves up my body, his skin sliding against mine, the heat of him searing me.
“I need you,” he rasps against my lips. “I need to be inside you.”
He reaches between us, gripping his thick cock and guiding the head to my entrance. He pushes forward, stretching the tight ring of muscles. I moan as he sinks into me, inch by thick inch, the feeling of fullness overwhelming. He fills me completely, the head of his cock kissing the entrance of my womb. He pauses there, letting me adjust to his size, his forehead resting against mine.
“You feel so good,kiska,” he whispers, his voice strained. “So tight and wet for me.”
He begins to move, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in. The sensation is exquisite, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine. He starts slow, a deep, grinding pace that hits every sensitive spot inside me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, my nails digging into the muscles of his back. The weight of him on top of me is grounding, the solid reality of his body anchoring me as the pleasure builds.
He kisses me, a messy, open-mouthed kiss that tastes of him and me. His tongue dominates mine, moving in time with his hips. I can feel my core tightening again, impossible and intense. He adjusts his angle, and suddenly, he’s grinding against my clit with every thrust. I tear my mouth from his, gasping for air, my vision blurring at the edges.
