Kostya: A Dark Mafia Romance (Zinon Bratva) by Nicole Fox (my reading book .TXT) 📕

off. I don’t even care that my bra is fit for someone three times my age more. And it wouldn’t matter if I cared because he’s already relieved me of it and is using his tongue to bring my nipple to a pointed peak.

I’ve never wanted so intensely, so completely. He moves his mouth across my chest to my opposite breast as I fumble with his belt. The buckle is difficult and I’m too desperate to figure it out. “Take these off.” I tug the pocket of his slacks and arch my back as he sucks me deep into his mouth while he flicks the belt buckle, and I wait for him to work the button and zip.

His hands are full of me again, and I pull away. I want to be in charge. To show him I’m not afraid. “I said, take them off.”

He cocks an eyebrow and I almost give in, but then he pushes his slacks away and I glance between us. His cock is hard, satiny, glistening, and I want to taste him. I want to ride him. I want to fuck him all night long.

I slide my hand down his cock, and he growls. “Do you like that?” I whisper. I don’t give time for the answer before I push him against the glass shower door and drop to my knees. There’s something so sexy in the way he splays one hand against the glass and curls the other in my hair. I moan and he thrusts, holding onto my head, demanding I take all of him.

I cup his balls and squeeze gently until they tighten and his knees give. “Charlotte.”

He jerks away and hauls me to my feet then spins me around so I’m facing the vanity. He puts his hand on my back and shoves so that I’m bent over in front of him. “Don’t move.” His heated whisper against my ear as he yanks my shorts and panties down, tearing them in his desperation, is so hot I could come now, without so much as a touch.

But then he pulls away, opens a drawer, and pulls out a foil packet. I wait for him to roll the condom on, then I push my ass toward him.

Before he gives me what I really want, he slips his hand between my legs and flicks his finger against my clit. My hips buck, and he dips his finger inside me, then runs it over my clit again and again until I could scream, until I reach behind me and grab him.

“Beg me, Charlotte. Beg me to fuck you.” I find him in the mirror as I stroke him, bringing his cock closer to my pussy, but he holds back, then leans over so that he can hiss in my ear. “I said, beg me.”

I’ll do whatever he wants. Whenever he wants. However he wants. “Please, Kostya. Please fuck me.”

Thankfully, he isn’t the kind of guy I have to tell twice, because no way can I manage more words right now, no way can I wait that long.

He takes my hips in his hands and brings me back as he thrusts his cock into me. I don’t have a lot of experience—almost none—but even I know when sex is good. And this is … extraordinary. Fabulous. My body’s vibrating against his. His grip tightening and his groans, and my answering whimpers and moans come as punctuation now to each push of his hips into mine.

“Do you trust me, Charlotte?”

I close my eyes and concentrate on his voice, on making the words make sense. “No.”

He chuckles. “Good.” His fingers knead my ass then slide inward so that his thumb slips inside the crack of my ass, presses, but doesn’t penetrate. I spiral out of control, banging my hips into his, screaming his name, coming until I can’t breathe or stand on my own.

Oh God. His grunt, accompanied by a deep thrust, comes with a full-body shiver. Or maybe that’s mine.

When he withdraws, I want him back. Immediately. Desperately. “Kostya …”

Instead of answering, he lifts me into his arms, locks our mouths together, and carries me into a bedroom, then kicks the door shut behind him. And at once, I don’t care about anything but this man and what he plans to do with me for the rest of tonight.

8

Kostya

It’s been a long time since I awoke with a woman in my arms. Longer since I’ve been so taken by lust that I can’t control the way I fuck her. I knew Charlotte would be exquisite, passionate, responsive. That much was obvious.

But now I’m beside her, tracing my finger along her spine, wishing she would wake up, even though I need her to stay asleep so I can figure out if there is some way I can keep her alive despite what she’s seen.

She’s lying on her stomach, and even in the dim light, I can see the imprint of my hand on her ass. My cock stirs.

God help me. I want her again.

Less than two hours ago, she straddled my hips and lowered herself onto my pulsing dick. After three slow and tantalizing pumps of her pussy up and down my cock, she slid away and told me I owed her a spanking, a punishment. She bent so prettily over the bed and whimpered when I slapped my hand against her round, luscious ass.

Harder, Kostya. The second slap, driven by a louder, more insistent request, made her jump and turned my cock to granite.

But she looked over her shoulder at me. Spank me until I scream, then fuck me till I stop.

I curl my fingers, remembering the sting in my palm, her cry as she turned over and spread her legs, holding herself open for me as I pushed inside her with an urgency I hadn’t been able to quench since I first fucked her in the bathroom.

It takes every ounce of will and strength I have to keep myself from touching her again.

And the thud