Page 56 of Unexpected Bratva Baby
When we finally part, both a little breathless, he grins. “Are you ready for your surprise?”
I nod, curiosity bubbling up inside me. “What is it?”
He takes my hand, leading me back to the elevator and apologizing to Masha in Russian when she tries to follow us, but he doesn’t let her. “You’ll see soon enough, my dear. Trust me.”
The ride down and then in the car is filled with anticipation. Mikhail keeps stealing glances at me with a secretive smile. I want to pepper him with questions, but I hold my tongue, savoring the mystery.
A while later, after Vlad parks at a curb, we step out onto the bustling streets of Little Havana. The air is thick with the scent of coffee and fried plantains. Salsa music drifts from a nearby café, and colorful murals adorn the walls of buildings. Mikhail guides me through the crowd, his hand warm and secure in mine.
We stop in front of a small, run-down shop. The paint is peeling, and the windows are grimy, but there’s something charming about its worn facade. Mikhail pulls out a key, unlocking the door with a flourish. “After you,” he says, gesturing for me to enter.
I step inside, blinking as my eyes adjust to the dim interior. Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming through the dirty windows. The space is empty save for a few broken shelves and an old cash register.
I turn to face him. “What is this?”
His eyes are shining with excitement. “This, my love, is your Scottish cultural center and shop.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
He steps closer, taking both my hands in his. “I know how much you’ve dreamed of opening a place to share your heritage and passion for Scottish culture, so I bought this property for you.”
Tears prick at my eyes. I look around the space with more interest, suddenly seeing not what it is, but what it could be. Shelves lined with tartans and whisky. A corner for storytelling and music. A small kitchen for cooking demonstrations.
“Mikhail,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the gesture. “I don’t know what to say.”
He pulls me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Say you’ll make this place everything of which you have ever dreamed. Say you’ll share your passion with the world.”
I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. All my lingering doubts and reservations melt away. This complex, dangerous, wonderful man understands me in a way no one else ever has.
I tilt up my head, meeting his gaze. “Thank you,” I say, pouring all my emotion into those two simple words.
His eyes darken with desire. He leans down, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s tender and passionate all at once. I melt into him, molding against him as if we were made to fit together. I forget for the moment that we’re in the corner of my future shop in Little Havana, and anyone peering in at the right angle could see us embracing like this. It’s been too long since I had him inside me, and I start tugging at his jacket while making little whimpers of need.
“Shhh,” he whispers against my lips. “We’re in public.”
“I don’t care,” I say, pulling away from him. “I want you now.”
He groans, resting his forehead against mine. “You’re killing me,lyschka.” He’s not trying to push me away though. Instead, he hikes up the skirt of my dress and settles between my legs while pushing me back against the wall. “When you come, you have to be quiet.”
I nod eagerly, spreading my thighs wider to accommodate him. He reaches beneath my dress and pushes aside my panties, exposing my slick folds to the cool air. He finds my clit, rubbing it in slow circles that send shivers of pleasure coursing through me as he captures my mouth in a long, drugging kiss.
His hand moves lower, dipping into my pussy and coating his fingers with my juices. Then he slides one finger inside me, followed by another, stretching me deliciously. I moan into his mouth, rocking my hips to match the rhythm of his thrusts.
He breaks the kiss, trailing hot, wet kisses along my jawline and down my neck while he returns his attention to my throbbing clit. He rubs it faster and harder, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I grip his shoulders tightly, digging my nails into his skin as I writhe against him.
The tension builds within me, coiling tighter until I can barely stand it. I throw back my head, banging it against the wall but barely noticing as I teeter on the brink of release. He increases the pressure on my clit, sending me over the edge. I bite my lip to keep from crying out as waves of ecstasy crash over me, leaving me trembling and gasping for breath.
He holds me close, supporting me as I recover from my orgasm before he moves his hand between us, and I realize he’s undoing his pants. I reach down to help him take out his cock, which is hard and ready for me. He lifts me up, positioning me so I’m straddling his waist while supporting my back with the wall, and then lowers me onto his shaft.
I sink down onto him an inch at a time, biting my lip to stifle my moans as he fills me completely. He feels incredible, stretching me almost to the point of pain. Once he’s fully sheathed inside me, he begins to move, thrusting slowly at first, then picking up speed as he finds his rhythm. “No need for a condom,lyschka,” he says, sounding winded. “You’re already pregnant. My seed did its job, and now I can have you like this, without any barriers.”
His words are decadent and should make me embarrassed, but they only rev my desire again. I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as he pounds into me. The friction of his cock sliding in and out of my pussy sends sparks of pleasure shooting through my body. I grind against him, matching his rhythm as best I can. “Yes, Mikhail. Fuck me. Fill me with your cock.”
He growls deep in his throat, increasing his pace. Our bodies move together in perfect harmony, as if we were made for each other. The sound of our ragged breathing echoes off the walls of the empty store, mingling with the faint sounds of traffic outside.
I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his scent and lose myself in the sensations coursing through me. The tension builds within, coiling tauter until I can’t endure it. I cling to him, meeting each thrust with equal fervor.
“Such a tight pussy, and so wet.” He says something in Russian. I don’t speak the language yet, but it’s guttural, probably obscene, and it makes my stomach quiver with another flare of desire. “Cum for me, Phoebe. Cum on my cock.”
