Gilded Cage: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 1) by Nicole Fox (best books for 20 year olds .txt) 📕

I stare at her challengingly, daring her to stop me.

When she doesn’t, I move in on her, grabbing her ass and using her firm cheeks to hoist her up so that she can wrap her legs around my waist.

The moment her back is pushed up against the wall, I shove my cock into her hard. She cries out, not having expected the first thrust to be so brutal.

But I’m done being gentle now. I’m going to fuck her into submission, fuck her into accepting her fate, into facing her true feelings for me.

No more clothes.

No more lies.

No more secrets.

Just this—me and her. My wife and I. “Us”—no matter how many times she tries to deny that such a thing exists.

She’s so wet that I slide in and out of her easily, ramming my hips into hers so hard that the entire apartment echoes with the harsh slap of flesh on flesh. Her tits bounce between us and her head arches back, bumping against the back of the wall.

But she hardly seems to notice the pain. If anything, she savors it.

Her hands are slippery against my shoulders but she holds on tight anyway, her pussy clenching every time my cock disappears inside her.

My balls slap against her ass and she cries out in harmony with the sound. Her body is already riding a wave that started with her last orgasm, so it takes only a few more minutes until she’s ready to come again.

I can feel my own orgasm on the brink of unleashing. I increase the tempo of my thrusts.

She curses again, a long string of Spanish under her breath, barely intelligible.

I respond by ramming into her so violently that her eyes roll back in her head.

I watch her lose herself in the moment. Her hatred dissolves. There’s only the next thrust, and the next, and the next. That’s all that matters anymore.

And then there’s the final one. The one that undoes both of us completely.

Perfect. Wet. Deep.

Esme’s fingers dig into the arch of my shoulders as she explodes on my cock. I let myself go, too.

I erupt inside her and on the last thrust, I stay buried to the hilt as I go still.

We stay like that for a long time. Trembling with the force of what just tore through us. Her heartbeat thuds erratically underneath me.

Eventually, I slip out of her, forcing yet another curse from her lips, and then I carry her wordlessly into the next room. I sit down on the white sofa, keeping her cradled on my lap.

Neither of us have said a word yet. But I know she’s already thinking of putting distance between the two of us.

She shimmies off my lap. When she stands, I see my seed slide down her inner thighs. It makes me smirk with satisfaction.

Esme sees my expression and scowls. She stands in front of me, stark naked and as beautiful as a goddess. Fire in her eyes, just the way I like it.

I want her to stand there forever.

But the more my eyes travel over her body, the more self-conscious my little bird becomes. She walks to the wall against which we just fucked and picks up her clothes.

She puts them back on, ignoring me pointedly. When she’s done, she picks up my clothes, strides back over, and dumps them in a heap on my lap.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she says sourly.

“You could have stopped me any time,” I tell her. “You just didn’t want to.”

Her eyes flash with anger, but I can see it’s directed at herself this time, not me. “Artem—”

“I know about the baby,” I interrupt.

Her mouth pops open in shock, her eyes flash to me, all confusion and vulnerability. Then realization washes across her expression and she sighs.

“Of course,” she nods. “They would have done tests at that clinic.”

“Four fucking months, Esme,” I say, in a low, dangerous voice. “You knew for that long.”

“Yes, I knew,” she says unapologetically. She crosses her arms under her bare breasts. “I was trying to protect myself. I was trying to protect my baby.”

I hear the flare of possessiveness in her tone. It doesn’t escape my notice how one hand slides down to her belly and rests there protectively.

“When did you find out?” I ask.

“A few months after The Siren.”

My heart stills for a moment. “So… the baby is mine?” I ask cautiously.

Her eyes go wide at the question. I realize it hasn’t even crossed her mind that I might assume the baby was someone else’s.

“You’re the only man I’ve been with since then,” she hisses venomously. “And for a long time before that, too, if you really wanna know.”

I sink back into the couch and contemplate that. It makes me strangely happy to know that. To see that beautiful, fiery body and know it’s truly mine.

“Okay,” I say. “I believe you.”

She seems satisfied enough with that. Nodding, she wraps her arms around her body, like she’s trying to comfort herself.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admits softly.

“Then you’re in good company.”

She laughs bitterly. “Does your uncle really want you dead?”

“Yes.” I nod. “I think he was hoping to get rid of me at the funeral, but that didn’t work out quite like he wanted.”

“You’re leaving L.A.?” she asks.

“Only with you.”

I had hoped we’d turned a corner in the last half an hour, but I can’t be sure anymore. She’s still holding her cards pretty close to her chest.

“You better put your clothes back on,” she tells me, gesturing to the pile she dumped on my thighs.

“Does that mean you’re done fighting me on this?”

She groans with frustration and throws her hands up in the air.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

“We don’t have time for you to fucking find out, Esme,” I growl as I stand up and put my pants back on. “We have to get out of this fucking city! Trust me on this—you don’t want to be a prisoner of the Bratva.”

She pales at that.

I reach out to her,