Page 108 of Auctioned to My Bratva Boss

His kisses started gentle, but gradually his hand slid through my hair, gripped the back of my head, kissed me until I couldn't breathe. I could feel his hunger to swallow me whole.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind us.

"Riley, I've waited too long for this moment." He pressed me against the door, his grey-green eyes burning bright. "I've always wanted to be your husband, to cherish you, take care of you—"

"And fuck you like I have every goddamn right to."

Heat pooled in my belly. I knew I was soaked. I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him.

Our mouths moved together, desperate and hungry, as we stripped away every barrier between us. Fabric hit the floor until there was nothing left but skin on skin. He lifted me, and we tumbled onto the bed, our bodies tangling together.

His mouth left mine and began a slow, torturous journey downward. He kissed my throat, my collarbone, the valley between my breasts. His lips traced my ribs, my stomach—lingering there with a tenderness that made my heart clench—then lower still. He kissed my thighs, my knees, my ankles, all the way down to my toes.

My whole body trembled. Every nerve ending felt electrified.

"You're so fucking sexy," he breathed against my skin. "I can't help myself around you."

This time, I had no shame holding me back. "I want you to," I whispered. "So much."

His eyes darkened. "I'm going to make you completely mine."

I knew what that meant. I knew his preferences, what he liked. My pulse kicked up, but I nodded. "Okay."

He reached for something on the nightstand—a silk blindfold. He brought it to my face, his movements slow and deliberate. "Trust me," he whispered against my ear as he tied it in place.

Darkness swallowed my vision. Every other sense sharpened.

I heard him move, heard the soft whisper of rope sliding through his hands. Then his touch—his fingers trailing up my wrist, positioning my arm. The rope followed, wrapping around my skin in careful loops.

"Your body was made for this," he murmured. "So fucking beautiful like this. Look at you, these curves, this full, gorgeous body tied up just for me."

My breath hitched. Heat flooded through me.

He continued his work methodically—binding my wrists, my arms, creating intricate patterns across my torso that framed mybreasts. The rope wasn't tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that I felt deliciously trapped.

"Perfect," he breathed. "You look perfect."

Then his hand was between my legs, fingers pressing, rubbing. I gasped and arched against the sensation.

"That's it," he said. "Let me hear you."

A moan escaped before I could stop it.

Without warning, he thrust inside me. I cried out—the sudden fullness overwhelming after all that teasing build-up.

"You're going to come when I tell you to," he commanded, his voice rough. "Not before. Understand?"

I nodded frantically, words beyond me.

He started moving—hard, deep strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside me. Pleasure coiled tight in my belly, building faster than I could control.

"Not yet," he warned when I whimpered. "Hold it."

"Please," I gasped. "Please, I need—"

He slowed his rhythm deliberately. "Need what?"

"Please let me come. Please. I can't..."