Page 39 of Bratva's Mercy
I released the tempting globes because at some point I had to, right? I traced the muscles in his body, his obliques,and my God, his pecs. It was simply unfair for one man’s body to be so fucking perfect. His nipples puckered under my touch, and each brush of my thumb over his skin sparked fire beneath my skin.
Thank fuck I was sitting down. My legs wouldn’t be able to support me if I were still standing.
Sergei ground down on me, and I groaned at the friction of my cock trapped in his tight heat. So damn tight that the squeeze was almost painful. I caught the back of his head and sought his lips with mine, sighing into his mouth when I achieved my goal. This time, our kiss was messier as the rhythm of our bodies grew frantic. I dropped my hands back to his ass, guiding his hips in rough thrusts, matching the desperate pace of our tongues.
He broke the kiss, panting, as his back arched involuntarily, a gasp slipping past his lips at the sudden change in angle.
A hoarse chuckle rumbled from my chest. “Found something you like?”
His eyes bored into mine, intense, unwavering. “Yes. You.”
My mouth went dry, and my brain scrambled for something clever to respond, but he got me, and the smirk on his lips said he knew it too.
“You can pretend all you want, Leo,” he said hoarsely, never missing a beat of his hips pumping. “But you need this as much as I do. You need the feel of my tight ass gripping your cock. This is the most alive I’ve seen you since we met.”
He rose completely off my cock then sat back on just the tip, grinding on it. I barely caught the cry that sprang to my lips as he teased my sensitive crown.
There was an infernal need gnawing at the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t just the insane urge to pound into him with reckless abandon. It was more than that. It was the scorching gaze, the husky words, the blatant honesty in admitting hisdesire for me. Every bit of Sergei was driving me to ruin, reducing me to a man starved for his poison.
“Damn you, Sergei,” I whispered so he could hear me before reclaiming his lips with mine. Our teeth clashing together, the scrape of his stubble against my skin, the musky scent of him—everything was too intense, too real. It wasn’t supposed to feel this way with him. I’d fucked so many men over the years, and I couldn’t recall this intense burning, the feeling of finally grasping exactly what I needed but still wanting to release it just so I could chase it again.
“I’m close,” he moaned. “Stroke my dick, Leo. Make me come for you.”
I wrapped my hand around his thick, throbbing length, my anticipation for what was building in my gut making it impossible to hold back now. His skin felt like silk over steel. He was so hard, and knowing I had done that to him sent a thrill through me. Each stroke of my hand was rewarded with a gasp, a moan, his body twitching, pushing himself to meet every thrust of my hand.
His eyes were closed, his forehead slick with sweat. I leaned forward and latched my teeth on to the side of his neck, biting down hard. His mouth opened in a silent scream as he started to shake, the tremors spreading throughout his body. A bead of precum smeared over my fingers, coating them in its slickness. The musk of him, potent and erotic, filled the air, making my nostrils flare and my own arousal intensify.
I wanted him.
God, I wanted him so much it hurt.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” he chanted, breathing frantically as his body tensed and he spilled onto my hand and stomach. I punched up, hissing at the tightest squeeze from his pulsating rim. I couldn’t hold back. I buried myself deep inside him asmy own release crashed down on me and I fell apart beneath him.
A cacophony of heavy breaths and grunts filled the shower in the aftermath of our climax. My back went slack, and Sergei’s legs trembled. He would have fared better on his own feet, but he rocked back against my lap and collapsed forward, burying his face into the crook of my neck and shoulder.
“Fuck, Leo,” he groaned. “That was even better than I thought it would be.”
“You’ve thought about it?” My voice came out hoarse and deeper than normal.
“Hmm.”
Was that a yes?
He placed a soft kiss on the side of my neck, then another along my shoulder. It shouldn’t have affected me. After everything we had just done—the heat, the desperation, the complete loss of control—that small, almost gentle gesture should have been nothing.
Instead, it scrambled me.
My breath caught, my heart kicking harder in my chest as if my body didn’t know how to process the shift. One second, he had been wrecked in my hands, undone, raw, and unrestrained, and now this? Soft. Careful. Almost sweet. Nothing at all like the mobster he was.
What the hell did I get myself into?
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening briefly at his back before I forced myself to release him. “My legs,” I muttered, clearing my throat as I leaned my head back against the tile. “They’re cramping. You’re sort of…heavy.”
It was a weak excuse, but I needed to put some distance between us. I couldn’t think clearly with him on me.
“Oh shit. Sorry.” Sergei shifted off me with a care that felt wildly out of place considering who he was. He steadiedhimself first before helping me adjust, his hands cautious, like I might break if he moved too fast.
Discombobulating didn’t even begin to cover it.
