Page 55 of The Bratva's Secret Baby
He sucks my clit again, slow and relentless, and I scream when the second orgasm hits, deeper than the first, hot and uncontrollable. My vision blurs. My fingers clutch the blanket beneath me like it’ll save me from being pulled under.
Only when I’m shaking, body limp and oversensitive, does he finally rise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” he asks, voice hoarse.
I don’t answer. I reach for his waistband and tug his pants down.
He kicks them off, hard and fast, then opens his wallet and pulls out a condom. He tears it open with his teeth, rolls it on without looking away from me, and moves between my legs.
He doesn’t rush. He lines up, rubs the thick head through my slick folds, and sinks in slow.
My breath catches at the stretch, the perfect fullness of him sliding deep until he bottoms out. He stays there, eyes locked on mine, hands braced on either side of my head. Then he starts to move.
Slow, deep thrusts that drag every inch of him through me, thick and stretching and devastatingly steady. I can’t breathe right with the way he fills me—every slow stroke like he’s carving his name into my body, reminding me that I said yes, that I opened this door, that I want this.
His eyes stay on mine, his jaw tight with restraint, his pace controlled like he’s daring me to ask for more. I hook my legs around his waist and lift my hips into him, needing friction, needing pressure, needing to lose my mind properly this time.
He lowers enough that I feel his breath at my ear. “You’re still fucking tight,” he says, voice gravel and heat. “Even after all that. You need it again?”
I nod, throat dry. “Yes.”
He groans, pulls almost all the way out, and thrusts back in with a slow grind that makes me cry out. It’s not rough yet—just thorough, focused, maddening in its precision. I clutch at his back, nails dragging down muscle, needing to mark something because the way he’s taking me apart deserves proof.
His mouth finds my neck, his teeth grazing the skin just below my ear as he thrusts again. “You’re dripping,” he murmurs. “You came so hard for me, and now you’re still fucking wet.”
I moan, loud and breathless, and he starts moving a little faster—still deep, still slow, but with more weight behind every thrust. Each one pushes me into the mattress, each one builds something hot in my belly that won’t stay caged much longer. I arch under him, chasing it.
But just when I’m about to fall, he pulls out.
I gasp, body clenching around nothing, thighs trembling with the loss of him. “Dominik?—”
“Shh,” he says, voice rough. “I’m not done.”
He slides down the bed and spreads my thighs again, his hands firm and warm on my hips. I can’t even protest. I’m too wrecked, too ready, too undone by how good he’s already made me feel. And then his mouth is on me again.
This time, it’s slower. Messier. He licks through the wetness he left behind, groaning like he’s starving for it. His tongue circles my clit, soft and lazy at first, like he wants to stretch me out over the edge instead of shoving me there. I try to lift my hips—he presses them down, tongue flicking harder now, lips sucking gently until I can’t hold still.
I cry out, louder this time, and he moans against me. The vibration makes my thighs twitch. He licks lower, fucks me with his tongue in slow, deep strokes, then pulls back just enough to spit on me before licking it up like it’s dessert.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My hands fly to his hair, pulling, shaking, grounding myself against the drag of his mouth as he sucks my clit again.
“You taste like sex and salt,” he says, voice muffled between my legs. “I could do this all night.”
And he does. He keeps me right there, hovering, trembling, unable to come down or climb higher. He licks the exact same spot over and over until I’m babbling, moaning his name like it’s the only thing I know.
I snap.
The orgasm hits like a whip—sudden and hard, punching the wind out of my lungs. I scream and shake and come so hard I feel like I’ve blacked out for a second. He keeps licking through it, gentle now, slow little strokes as he lets me come apart in his mouth.
When I finally collapse, boneless and soaked, he kisses the inside of my thigh and looks up. His lips are wet, his jaw rough with stubble, his eyes dark and pleased.
“You said you didn’t want careful,” he murmurs. “I’m giving you everything else.”
I reach for him, tugging him up by the shoulders until his weight covers me again. His cock is still hard, thick against my thigh, and I need him back inside now. I bite his lip when he kisses me, and I taste myself on his tongue.
“Condom’s still on?” I manage.
He nods.
