Months go by, and my life as a Bratva wife turns into a routine of helping Liza with the dog rescue during the day and my husband teaching me unimagined pleasures during the nights. After our first night together, Alexei moves into the main bedroom, and I fall asleep, exhausted but deeply satisfied in his arms every night.
I still want a life of my own, a purpose that’s more than being a wife. My own passion.
Liza has her rescue organization. And Rurik’s wife, Perla, is a mover and shaker in the city’s political circles. The two women are my only social life, other than a few coffee dates with Louise. But she’s still working evening and nights at the Tankard, so daytime dates are hard for her. And those are the only ones I can do, for now, until I can convince Alexei that it’s safe to let me out at night, even if I have to take a guard or two.
But he refuses to let me leave with any security detail that doesn’t include him. And his job requires him to be out most evenings.
We’re working on it.
This evening, though, I’ll be with him as he works, kind of. We’re going to a fundraising event for Liza’s organization. A swanky gala that I’m super excited to attend, but also a little nervous. Most of the brotherhood will be there, and this is Alexei's and my first official event together.
Perla and Liza helped me shop for my outfit, and both women assure me everything will be fine, but I can’t help worrying. The Bratva might be patriarchal, but the women married to the leaders wield a lot of power, and their reputation reflects on their husbands.
I’m from a very low rung on the social ladder, and my dad’s actions are not helping matters. I’d never want to do or say something that will make Alexei’s men think less of him for being married to me.
And that’s why it’s taking me all day to prepare for this event. I’ve been to the hair salon, the wax salon, the nail salon and now I stand in front of the massive marble vanity in our penthouse bathroom, the city lights glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind me. The dress I’m wearing tonight is strapless, so I bought a black satin and lace bustier to wear under it. The garment cinches tight under my breasts, pushing them up into soft, overflowing mounds that strain against the cups. Below it, the matching lacy panties are barely there, just a scrap of delicate fabric that sits high on my hips and leaves most of my ass exposed. But that’s the price you pay for no panty lines.
I’m finishing my eyeliner, leaning across the sink to get closer to the mirror, when I hear the elevator arrive and soon Alexei fills the bathroom doorway.
He stops dead when sees me.
His dark eyes lock on mine in the mirror’s reflection, and the air in the room shifts instantly into something thick and electric.
He’s still in his black dress shirt from this morning, sleeves rolled up to expose those powerful forearms covered in Bratva ink, but his jaw is clenched tight and his chest rises and falls like he’s been running. His gaze drags over me slowly. “Roza,” he growls, voice low and rough as gravel. “What are you wearing?”
I swallow hard, the liner pencil still hovering near my eye. Heat floods my cheeks and pools low in my belly. “It’s for the gala. My dress is strapless so I needed functional underwear. I’m almost ready…”
He doesn’t let me finish.
In three long strides he’s behind me, his big body crowding mine against the counter. One large hand lands heavy on my hip, fingers digging in possessively, while the other slides up my spine and fists in my loose hair. He yanks my head back just enough that I’m forced to meet his eyes in the mirror.
“Look at you,” he rasps, breath hot against my ear. “Dressed like a fucking wet dream for me. The top pushing those perfect tits up so high I can see your nipples begging to be sucked. And these little lacy panties?” His fingers hook under the thin strap at my hip and snap it like it’s nothing. The fabric rips with a sharp sound, and cool air hits my bare pussy. “You won’t be needing these tonight, wife.”
I gasp as the ruined lace flutters to the floor. My heart hammers against my ribs. “Alexei, the gala…”
“Fuck the gala.” His voice is dark and velvet-rough. He shoves the bustier down roughly with both hands, yanking the cups below my breasts until they spill free, heavy and aching, nipples already tight and flushed. He groans at the sight, palming one roughly, pinching the nipple until I whimper. “You stand here looking like this and expect me to let you leave? No,Roza. This body is mine. This pussy is mine. I’m going to remind you right now.”
Without letting go of my hair, he undoes his belt. I hear the zipper, the rustle of fabric, and then his thick cock is out, already rock-hard, the heavy length slapping against my ass cheek. He kicks my feet wider apart, spreading my legs until I’m bent slightly over the counter, palms flat on the cool marble, breasts pressed against the edge.
“Alexei…” My voice breaks as he releases my hair and grips my neck from behind, his large hand wrapping around my throat and squeezing just enough to make my pulse thunder under his fingers.
Not choking, not yet, not just holding me there, owning me, forcing my eyes to stay locked on his in the mirror.
My pussy floods and my breath hitches.
“Eyes on me, Roza,” he snarls, voice dripping with dominance. “Watch your husband fuck you. Your tight little pussy will take every inch of my cock while you’re supposed to be getting pretty for some boring fucking event.”
He drags the thick head of his cock through my folds, coating himself in the slick arousal that’s dripping down my thighs. I’m soaked, have been since he first looked at me and stepped up to claim me.
“Fuck, feel that?” He presses forward, the fat head of his cock breaching me in one slow, relentless push. “Already creaming for me. My greedy wife. You put on this sexy lingerie thinking you’d tease me all night? Bad girl.”
I’m panting so hard I can’t answer.
He slams the rest of the way in, bottoming out in one brutal thrust that forces a broken cry from my throat. The stretch burns so good, his thick cock forcing my walls brutally open. His grip on my neck tightens as he pulls back and drives in again, setting a punishing rhythm right away. The wet slap of his hips against my ass echoes off the marble walls.
“Alexei,” I moan, eyes fluttering, but he squeezes my throat in warning and growls right against my ear.
“Don’t you dare close those eyes. Look at yourself getting fucked. Look how your tits bounce every time I bury my cock in this perfect cunt.” His free hand reaches around to slap one breast lightly, then pinches the nipple hard. “These are mine. This pussy is mine. Say it,Roza. Tell me who owns this dripping cunt.”
