Forced to Marry the Bratva: Age Gap Mafia Romance (Zolotov Bratva Book 5)

Chapter 17 - Damien

I break away from our heated kiss when a foreign sensation creeps through me—vulnerability. I never thought a woman could affect me like this. Not even my own siblings have managed to crack the tough exterior that has served me well for years. But here I am, feeling an overwhelming sense of fear at the realization of how deeply I care for Genevieve and how capable she is of influencing me to uncover the layers of myself I’ve never shown the world, hidden even from myself.

“Damien,” she whispers softly through our kiss, her voice filled with desire and a fiery determination for more that stirs yet terrifies me.

If we take this any further, I’m afraid of how deep I could fall for her. If that were to happen, I’d lose the toughness I’ve built over the years. I’d be weakened, vulnerable, and afraid of harm coming her way and mine, for I’d never wish her to suffer should something happen to me.

I try to regain control over my emotions, but it’s like trying to tame a wild storm. The air around us charges with electricity, transforming every touch into a spark.

I’m afraid that if we carry on a second longer, I’ll lose all control. Slowly, I caress her cheek and pull away.

She looks at me, all confused, her lips parted for more.

“It’s been a long few days,” I say, standing to my feet. I extend my hand out for her to take it. “Come, let’s head inside and call it a night.”

She looks at my hand and ignores it. Instead, she reaches across the table for more wine. “I think I’m going to have another glass.”

I pull back my hand and she gives me a daring look, urging me to try and stop her.

Genevieve’s silent protest sparks amusement in my eyes as I watch her pour herself another glass of wine. She meets my gaze with determination, challenging me in a way that reignites the fire between us. With a smirk playing on my lips, I take a seat and observe her with a newfound appreciation for her spirit.

But I won’t succumb.

She takes a sip of the wine. The rich red matches the natural flush in her cheeks. “Is everything a challenge to you?” I remark, unable to resist teasing her.

There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as she sets the glass down. “Only when it’s worth it,” she replies, her voice laced with playful defiance.

She stands and walks over to the edge of the balcony, sipping her wine. I can’t help but let my eyes drink her in one more time. Then, slowly, she takes off her coat, and her soft, smooth skin shines in the light. She looks so beautiful standing there on the balcony, bathed in the moonlight. My eyes take in the picture of her in that short, tight black skirt with a nude pink satin sleeveless blouse tucked into it. Standing on my balcony in that outfit, she would make the perfect photo. Her innocence and natural sensuality blend together in a way that is so refreshing, I could drink it in all night.

She turns back, walking closer to me, her body swaying with a sultry confidence that leaves no doubt about her intentions. I’ve never seen her walk this way. I can tell she’s putting on a show, all for me.

On the one hand, I revel at the thought. On the other, I know I can’t fall deeper into this rabbit hole she is digging for me, not until I can gain some semblance of control around her.

“I was thinking,” she says, out of nowhere. “I never asked whether you were seeing someone before you were forced to marry me.”

I almost spit out my wine. “What?” I exclaim in disbelief.

“You know?” she bites her lower lip and flicks her hair back across her shoulder. “Was she good… in bed?”

I cannot believe Genevieve Russo Zolotov, my wife of barely a month, is trying to ask me if I have an ex and how she was in bed. I frown, and realize what she’s doing. She’s trying to keep my mind on sex, but I won’t give.

“I wasn’t seeing anyone,” I fire back, regaining control. It’s not a lie. I never had time for women of consequence.

She walks closer to me and bends across the table to grab the wine, her ass jutting out right in front of my eyes. I hold back a moan as I feel the temptation to reach out and touch her. My breath catches, and I clench my jaw, the internal battle raging on within me. Genevieve straightens back up slowly, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she watches the effect she has on me.

She holds up the wine. “I noticed your glass was empty,” she whispers in this slow, sultry voice I could never get sick of.

“No, thanks,” I say, rather ferociously, pulling my glass away from under her hand. “I… I think I’ve had too much already.”

The truth is I’m afraid getting drunk would make me lose all my inhibitions… and my clothes. I cannot allow that to happen. She thinks she can seduce me with these little tricks? Well, I could resist a Goddess if I put my mind to it.

Not that she isn’t a Goddess.

“Oh, come on, Damien,” she pouts playfully, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Just one more glass won’t hurt. I promise I won’t tell your secrets to the moonlight.”

Genevieve’s eyes sparkle as she leans in closer, her breath warm against my neck.

I can feel the heat of her body seeping into my own, igniting a fire that threatens to consume every last shred of restraint I have left. She’s playing with fire, and she knows it. But damn, if I’m not already burning for her.

I try to hold onto my resolve, but it crumbles like sand between my fingers as she runs a soft finger along my jawline, tilting my face toward hers. Her lips are inches away from mine, taunting me with the promise of something wild and untamed.

“Just one more glass,” she murmurs, her voice a siren’s call that I find myself unable to resist. She brings her lips closer to my ear and brushes them against it, giving them a nip.

Slowly, she inches herself onto my lap. I feel her thighs against me and let out a moan I should’ve held back.

“So you want me,” she whispers, sensing the conflict within me. Her fingertips trace delicate patterns on my chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Genevieve, we shouldn’t…” My voice falters as I struggle to find the words.

“Stop thinking about everything else for once,” she urges, her hands cupping my face, forcing me to look at her. “This is about you and me.”

Her gaze is fierce, challenging me to confront my deepest fears. I swallow hard, attempting to regain control of my emotions. “It’s not that simple,” I manage to say, my voice strained with effort.

“Make it simple,” she insists, her lips brushing against mine, a tantalizing promise of what could be. “Let go of everything else and just focus on us. You told me I should go after what I want… so help me.”

The scent of her perfume fills my senses, intoxicating me and overwhelming my resistance. My mind races, torn between the desire that courses through my veins and the cold logic that has always governed my every action. As her body moves closer to mine, our breaths mingling, the battle within me intensifies.

Here she was, having set out to seduce me, but the innocence of her dialogue tugs at my heartstrings. It’s so simple in her head, and she wants that same simplicity from me. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she’s trying. Perhaps it’s time for me to surrender what I don’t know either and let her take the leap.

“Genevieve.” My hands grip her shoulders in a futile attempt to keep some distance between us when all I want is to close it. “Are you sure?” I ask, my voice barely audible above the sound of my thundering heartbeat. “Because once we cross this line, there’s no going back.”

“Lines are meant to be crossed,” her voice pushes me over the edge. “Otherwise, we’d never know what we’re yet to find.”

With those words, she reaches down and rests her palm on my cock, giving me the gentlest squeeze. I buck my hips, my cock demanding more, and in that instant, I make the decision to let go of my fears and slam my lips against hers.

It’s impossible to resist her.

In one swift motion, I pull Genevieve closer, our bodies crashing together. Her breasts squeeze against my chest, and our lips meet with a fervor that leaves us both breathless. All rational thought is wiped from my mind.

“Damien,” she sighs, her fingers digging into my shoulders as if she’s afraid I might pull away again.

“Genevieve,” I whisper her name like a prayer, sealing my fate. My hands slide down her back, cupping her ass and lifting her up off the ground as I rise from the chair. She wraps her legs around my waist as our kisses become more urgent, fueled by the raw need coursing through our veins.

“Take me inside,” she pleads, her eyes burning with unspoken desire.

I carry her through the doorway and into the bedroom, our lips never parting. The anticipation builds as we cross the threshold, our movements becoming more frenzied. As I lower her onto the bed, her hair fans out across the pillows like a halo of golden silk. She looks up at me with those deep green eyes, and I swear I’ve never seen a woman more beautiful.

Her body is a masterpiece laid out before me, her curves accentuated by the dim light filtering through the curtains. I can’t help but marvel at the fact that this beautiful woman has chosen me—a man who’s spent his life in darkness—to be her first.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. It’s crucial she knows that she holds the power here despite my usual dominance.

“More than anything,” she responds softly, her eyes never leaving mine.

With her consent, I lean down and capture her lips, our mouths moving together in a tender dance. Slowly, I reach down to her skirt and fumble with the hook and zip. I stop kissing her for a brief second to slide it off. She crosses her ankles, looking nervous at how I drink in the sight of her bare, gorgeous, sculpted legs. Then, I move back up and place my finger just where the hem of her shirt flirts with her skin. She gasps at my touch, and I slowly inch up the shirt. She puts her arms above her head for me to remove it. I throw it on the floor, and when I look back, she’s lying back on the bed, her arms still resting above her head with her ankles hooked together, in nothing but her bra and panties.

And she’s a vision of ecstasy.

I hungrily take in the sight of her. Her flat but shapely waist, the curves of her hips, the mount of her breasts. My hands roam across her body, taking in every inch of her smooth skin, mapping her like a priceless treasure. I trail kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my lips. Her fingers find their way into my hair, gently tugging and guiding me to the places she wants me most.

“Damien,” she moans, her voice breathy and filled with desire. My name on her lips hits me straight at my cock. I reach her belly and give it a little kiss before moving down. I place my hands on the elastic of her panties and look up at her for assurance.

“Please,” she nods, blushing.

I slowly strip the panties off, gliding them down to her ankles, before discarding them to the floor. I look back up. She’s exquisite—an ethereal angel from a world I don’t deserve to touch. And yet, as I settle between her thighs, she welcomes me with open arms.

Slowly, I part her legs and place my head between them. “I’m going to make this as easy as I can,” I explain. She nods nervously.

I gently lick the full length of her sweet pussy. She’s not wet enough, and I begin to circle my tongue on her clitoris. She gasps and places her hands on my hair, guiding me down. I take a finger to her clit, and slowly lick her center. I begin to dab at it in successive, quick bursts, and she writhes beneath me, her juices flowing down my face.

“Oh, Damien,” she moans. “I want you, and I want you now, please…”

“Let’s just try something a little less hard to take first,” I chuckle, slowly inserting a finger in her. I get in halfway, and her muscles contract against me.

She’s so tight. So, so tight.

Gently, I edge the rest in. “How does that feel?” I ask.

“Like I want more,” she says greedily.

I look up, and our eyes lock, our souls naked and exposed.

She’s nervous. I’m afraid of hurting her.

“You need to be sure,” I whisper, my fingers tracing the delicate walls of her clenched pussy. “This is your first time, and I won’t have you regretting it.”

She swallows hard, her fingers threading through my hair. “With you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I trust you. Please, Damien. Just give it to me.”

Her words, her surrender, hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. I’ve never felt this way before. This woman, with her innocence and audacity, has shattered my control. I pull my finger out and get above her, placing my cock at her entrance.

“Remember, if you feel any discomfort or want to stop, just tell me,” I remind her gently, my eyes locked on hers.

“Of course,” she whispers, her voice laced with trust. “I know you’ll take care of me.”

With that assurance, I press forward slowly, entering her with measured precision. Her breathing races as I breach her barrier, and for a moment, I worry that I’ve hurt her. I pray that I don’t make her bleed too much. Her eyes remain locked on mine, filled with determination and an unspoken plea to continue.

“Genevieve… are you okay?” I ask, my voice cracking with emotion.

“Yes,” she replies softly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Don’t stop, Damien.”

With her words as my fuel, I push forward, taking her virginity as I go. She lets out a soft moan, her body tensing momentarily before she relaxes. I pause for a moment, giving her time to adjust to the sensation of me inside her. I can feel her muscles clenching around me, and she feels tight, warm, cozy, like home.

I begin to move rhythmically, my cock sliding in and out of her tight, warm pussy. The pleasure coursing through me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I can’t help but wonder how she’s feeling.

She places her hands on my chest, her fingers digging into my skin as if she’s trying to hold on to me. Her eyes never leave mine, her expression a mixture of need and trust.

As I continue to bury myself within her, her body adjusts to accommodate me, welcoming my intrusion. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me, my control slipping.

“Damien, I’m close,” Genevieve gasps, her nails digging into my back as she clings to me.

“Let go, love,” I encourage her, my own climax looming dangerously near. “Come undone with me.”

She closes her eyes, and her hips buck at me, showing me she wants it faster. I smile to myself—my little tigress.

I go just a little faster, but not as fast as I’d like, for fear of causing her pain. She closes her eyes, and her nails now dig into my arms. Her pussy begins to quiver, her legs shiver, and her breasts jiggle from her entire body trembling.

She cries out my name, her face contorting into one of pure ecstasy, and she raises her neck up off the bed for just a second before falling back down.

In that instant, I realize she’s cum. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, and I can’t hold back. I pull out quickly and shoot my shot on her upper thighs.

“Genevieve, I…” I begin, but words fail me. There’s no way to convey the depth of what I feel at this moment—the vulnerability, the awe, the love that has taken root within my soul.

She simply smiles at me, her eyes warm and understanding. “I know,” she murmurs, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “Me too.”

I stay there, hovering, for a few seconds to catch my breath and then stand up. I look around for some tissue and gently wipe her thighs and my cock clean. I notice some blood on the sheets and the paper. I’ll change the sheets tomorrow before the housekeeper comes.

I get back into bed and take her in my arms. Lying here, our naked bodies entwined and slick with sweat, I find myself unable to tear my gaze away from Genevieve’s face. As I trace my fingers along the curve of her cheek, she sighs gently, nuzzling into my touch.

“Damien,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never imagined it could feel like this.”

“Neither did I,” I admit, surprised by the vulnerability in my own voice.

Our breathing slows, synchronizing in the quiet of the night. I drink in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin pressed against mine, committing every detail to memory. This moment is precious and fragile; I want to savor it for as long as possible.

“Damien?” Genevieve’s voice is soft, tinged with drowsiness.

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you… for tonight. For everything.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” I reply, my heart swelling with affection for this incredible woman in my arms. Soon enough, we fall asleep, a tangled mess of limbs.