Page 93 of Forced By the Bratva

For the first time in longer than I could measure, I didn’t feel the need to look over my shoulder. The future wasn’t a threat anymore. It was something we were already building, one ordinary night at a time.

And I intended to keep it for the sake of our unborn child.

Extended Epilogue – Iris

The bedroom was already set for the mood as we set out to try something new. Something I’d always fantasized about.

Red light washed the walls in a low, warm glow. Candles burned on the dresser and the windowsill—dark, sweet, a little smoky.

Flower petals covered the black sheets. A pair of handcuffs sat on the side table next to a short leather whip. The air felt thick and intentional.

Ilya sat on the edge of the bed in black boxer briefs. The light caught every hard line of him: broad chest, cut abs, the heavy muscle in his shoulders and arms.

He looked like he’d been waiting exactly for this, eyes locked on me with that steady hunger that always made my pulse jump.

Dressed in a black thong and nothing else, I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled across the carpet toward him, slow, hips swaying. His gaze tracked every inch.

When I reached his knees, I looked up.

“Are you ready for me?” My voice came out low. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. About getting you in my mouth. About letting you use me however you want.”

“You have, haven’t you?” he teased, his husky voice fanning the flames of my hunger.

I hooked my fingers in his waistband. He lifted his hips so I could drag the briefs down. His cock sprang free, already thick and hard. Just as I liked it.

I wrapped my hand around the base and stroked him once, root to tip, slow.

Then I leaned in and took him into my mouth, and a soft gasp tore from his throat.

I kept it unhurried, licking a long stripe up the underside, before closing my lips around the head.

Looking up at him over my lashes, I sank down until he rested against the back of my tongue. I pulled off with a wet sound and did it again, deeper, letting saliva coat him.

The taste of him, the heat, the way his breath stuttered—I loved all of it.

I held his gaze as I worked him, watching his face. The tight jaw. The dark, heavy eyes. The slight flex of his stomach every time I hollowed my cheeks and sucked hard on the head.

I wanted to keep that look.

He reached down, fingers in my hair, the tips gently massaging my scalp as if to say, “well done.”

I bobbed my head, tucking stray strands to the back of my ear while stroking and sucking his length. He pressed against the back of my head, groaning in ecstasy.

“Cuff me,” I said against his cock. “Behind my back. I want my hands out of the way so you can fuck my mouth properly.”

He reached for the handcuffs. I turned and offered my wrists. Metal clicked shut, cool and final. I tested them once—secure—then turned back and took him into my mouth again.

This time, he guided me. One hand settled in my hair again, not forcing, just holding. He pushed deeper, slow and controlled, until the head pressed into my throat.

I breathed through my nose and took it, my eyes watering. The wet sound of him sliding in and out filled the quiet room. He kept the pace gentle but deep, using my mouth the way I’d asked.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Just like that. Take it.”

I moaned around him. The vibration made his hips twitch.

After a while, he pulled free. A thin string of saliva still connected my lower lip to the head of his cock. I was breathing hard, lips swollen, wrists locked behind me.

He stood, then helped me onto the bed on all fours. Petals shifted under my knees, and I felt him move behind me.