Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby (New York Bratva)

29. Katya

29

KATYA

I gor’s piercing gaze locks onto mine, our foreheads pressed together, his breath hot and uneven against my lips. His hands tremble slightly as they frame my waist, his fingertips grazing my skin in a way that makes every nerve ignite. He’s holding himself back—again.

But I don’t want him to.

“Katya,” he whispers, his voice a low, gravelly growl that rumbles through my chest. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” My reply is immediate, without hesitation. “I’m fine, Igor. I need you . ”

I let my hands wander over his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle beneath his warm skin. His body feels like it was built to dominate, and yet here he is, treating me as if I’m made of glass.

He swallows hard, his jaw tight as though he’s wrestling with himself. His restraint is both admirable and infuriating. I don’t want gentleness. I don’t want him to be careful. I want him to unleash whatever fire he’s keeping locked away.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice shaking with need. “I want to feel you inside me. I want to forget everything else. Just you and me, Igor.”

His grip on my waist tightens, his fingers digging into my skin as his self-control frays. His dark eyes search mine again, and I can see the war raging inside him—desire battling with the protective instinct that’s dominated his every move since he brought me home from the hospital.

“You’ve been through a lot, volchitsa ,” he murmurs, his forehead dipping lower until his lips brush my temple. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” I promise, my voice firm. I pull back slightly, enough to look him in the eyes and make sure he understands. “You’ll only make me feel good. And I trust you.”

Those words hang between us, heavy with meaning. His eyes soften for a moment, the sharp edge of his worry dulling. And then, like a dam breaking, his resolve shatters.

His lips crash into mine, all hesitation gone. The kiss is rough, urgent, and consuming, exactly what I’ve been asking for. His hands slide up my back, tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer, like he can’t get enough of me. My body responds instantly, heat pooling between my thighs as I press myself against him.

He shifts, rolling me beneath him with a careful but firm motion. His weight presses down on me, grounding me, making me feel safe and desired all at once. My fingers explore his broad shoulders, his powerful back, the hard lines of his body sculpted just for me.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough with emotion. “Do you even know what you do to me, Katya?”

I smile against his mouth, arching into him as his lips trail down my neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “I could ask you the same thing,” I whisper, my voice breathless.

His hands slide beneath the hem of my shirt, his rough palms skimming over my skin as he explores every inch of me. It’s intoxicating, the way he touches me—like he’s memorizing me.

“I’ve wanted this,” he confesses, his voice a rasp in the quiet of the room. “For a long time.”

“Then don’t stop,” I urge him, my nails digging lightly into his shoulders. “Unravel me.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes blazing with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “You’re mine, Katya,” he growls, his voice thick with possession. “Do you understand that? There’s no going back from here.”

I stay silent, the weight of his words pressing on me. Noticing my hesitation, he pounces, grabbing my face and locking our lips. The heat brewing in me explodes, shooting sparks from my core.

He angles his mouth, swiping his tongue across my lower lip. It drives me insane, eager for more of his delicious taste. Closer , I want him closer. I crush my mouth to his, inviting him to play with me. My other hand ends up wrapped around the bulge between his legs. Eagerly, I run a finger over his rock-hard cock, savoring the shivers traveling through his chest.

The smell of his male lust fills the air, adding to my desperation. My fingers dive beneath the fabric of his underwear. Warm, smooth skin meets my touch, making me buck my hips against him.

Igor covers my body with his. His erection, bulging through his boxer briefs, grinds against my inner thigh. Grabbing his ass, I urge him to kiss me once more.

“Damn it, volchitsa ,” he exhales, breaking away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” I assure him. “I’m all better now.”

My shortness of breath doesn’t persuade him. Even worse, he doesn’t realize how close I am to exploding. Heaving and panting, I practically beg him to take me.

“Please, Igor, make love to me,” I whisper, letting him know just how much I mean it.

He stills. Igor’s gaze swims with desire and conflicting emotions.

After blinking away his hesitation, his cold blue gaze connects with mine. The air in the room thickens, and tension rises from within him.

“Do you promise you’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” he asks, an edge to his tone.

“Only pleasure, Igor,” I assure him.

Grabbing his ass, I pull his bulge to me. Thickness slides up my slit, rubbing the thin material separating us.

“Please,” I pant, desperate for the release.

“Fucking hell,” he says. “You’re a beast. A sex beast.”

“Only for you,” I say, knowing that at least a small part of me always will be.

He lowers himself, his muscular arms hard and straining from having his weight suspended above me. A groan follows as he grinds against my sex, the sensation almost electric. Stunned, I manage a chuckle.

“See? I don’t hurt,” I tease.

“Fuck,” he curses and slips the panties down my legs.

Next, his boxer briefs get tossed aside, followed by Igor’s shirt, which he insisted I wear while we sleep. At least now nothing separates us.

“Condom,” he hisses, no doubt not wanting another unplanned surprise on our hands.

“Wait.” I rummage through his bedside drawer and hand him the protection.

He slides it on over his thick cock covered in veins, then kneels and wraps his lips around my clit. A buzz fills my ears, and my pussy tingles, slowly setting off like the charge from a battery.

“Let me feel your tongue,” I beg. “Make me scream.”

“Just not too loud,” he warns, chuckling. “If the kids wake up, playtime’s over.”

With a hungry growl, Igor dives and pushes his face into my folds. Spreading my lips apart, he brushes his thumb up and down my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to unravel me. A gasp escapes my lips as his thumb rolls over my clit and his warm, wet tongue penetrates my entrance, moving over my bundle of nerves.

A needy moan sticks in my throat. It’s all too much and not enough. My desire ramps up, charging forward and turning me into the crazed sex monster only he knows how to coax out.

Panting, I clutch his face, molding it against my crotch. My back arches, and when I start to spiral out of control, I thrust my pussy forward, fucking his face and enjoying the roughness. He makes me feel alive, desired, and sexy.

Moving into his every action, I bite my lip to keep myself from screaming as each pump of his fingers drives me deeper into the madness, and the way his tongue flicks across my folds leaves me dizzy and out of control.

I’m scorched.

Sizzling.

Coming undone.

My breath hitches, whimpers caught in my throat, and suddenly I’m being sucked out of my body and onto a cloud somewhere beyond ecstasy.

Wet kisses land on my stomach as I fall against the mattress, boneless. The air feels heavy and stuffy as if only his body pressed against mine could save me.

“That’s my girl,” Igor murmurs, sliding up until our mouths connect. “You taste like sin.”

“You’re a bad influence,” I murmur back.

He chuckles and grabs the base of his dick. “How about I show you my best work yet?”

Igor stares at me hungrily. Taking a deep breath, I guide his hard length through my slickness, coating him from top to bottom. His hand comes over mine, slowing the tempo.

One, two, three seconds, and his expression changes. Fierceness washes over him. The hard ridge throbs in my hand as Igor gives it a couple more pumps into my palm.

“See what you’re doing to me?” He stares at me in pure adoration. “You don’t know just how stunning you are. My volchitsa , my everything.”

Holding his cock at the base, he brushes it up and down my slit, stimulating my clit and making me breathe faster.

“Shh,” I remind him, covering his mouth.

He smirks.

When he captures my breast between his teeth, I gasp and writhe, begging for more. I need him to keep going and never stop.

“Kiss me again,” I plead.

My arms wrap around his neck, and I tug him down with me. He goes willingly, even though I can feel the last of his self-control crumble.

“Take me, Igor. Fill me with your thickness,” I demand.

He hesitates.

“Tell me if you’re in pain,” he growls. “Promise.”

“I’m okay. Only pleasure,” I assure him, even though there’s still a small sting.

At his questioning stare, I place my hands on his ass, pressing him close, not allowing him to pull back.

Finally, with no warning, he thrusts inside me.

“Igor,” I cry, and sink my nails into the flesh of his arm.

His big erection stretches me to my limits, the shock radiating outward, followed by intense pleasure.

“Katya,” he mutters hoarsely, gripping the back of my head. “Fuck. Stay still. I need to settle myself for a minute.”

With a swift, fluid movement, he leans in, capturing my mouth and sealing the words.

“Let me take care of you now.”

I stare at him, mouth agape. When he pulls back and thrusts inside me, the pleasure is so intense it steals my breath.

We are almost at the end of our rope, but neither of us is willing to stop. All that’s on my mind is satisfying the intense hunger I have for him.

Breathing comes with great difficulty. After a few powerful thrusts, he slows the tempo to something languid and romantic, giving both of us time to adjust to the connection.

There’s a sweet tickling in my belly—or maybe it’s on the surface of my skin. Or perhaps it’s centered inside of me. None of it matters. The only thing that does is the steady dance we fall into. The passion in his eyes and the way we’re connected prove how far we’ve come since we’ve met.

One of his hands roams to my rear, taking a firm grip and pulling me against him. My head grows lighter with each passing moment, and my desire to do something becomes dire and impossible to deny. At first, he doesn’t move, forcing me to take charge of our union. I want to take everything he has, and he lets me, without holding back.

I need him faster.

Harder.

Slowly, he starts thrusting, and the deeper he pushes into me, the closer I am to falling over the edge. Finally, something explodes within me.

“Igor,” I moan. My heart flutters.

He kisses my lips, then takes my breast into his mouth, his tongue rubbing circles against the sensitive flesh. I do the same, moving up and down his cock, working the vein on the back with everything I have.

My juices flood over his heavy sack. I can tell he’s close, too. He flips my legs, placing them over his shoulders as he rams into me in a lust-driven frenzy.

“Oh, fuck. Volchitsa ,” he grunts, then releases my legs before he collapses on top of me.

Our foreheads touch, and I look into his darkened gaze. I wait as he holds me in his arms and twirls a strand of my hair. At this moment, I feel whole. The knowledge that I’ll be back in Russia soon, thousands of miles away from him, makes each moment more precious. My heart aches knowing our nights together are numbered. Minutes pass, but Igor doesn’t move an inch. He breathes heavily, chest heaving, while still lodged deep inside of me. My walls contract around his cock, savoring the sensation.

He kisses the corner of my mouth and whispers, “So fucking perfect, Katya. Made just for me, weren’t you?”

His words make me shiver, despite being burned alive by the fire surging through my body. He must know by now how weak I am, but he doesn’t use the power to his advantage. At least, not yet.

Igor is the passion, the burning desire I never knew I’d find. And I can’t believe what I missed out on my entire life. Until I fell in bed with him, I never understood how sex could be this fulfilling, vibrant, and... explosive.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing between us. “Think you’ll be able to walk tomorrow?”

“I’ll definitely be sore,” I tell him with a smile.

“Well, you sure enjoyed the process.”

I punch his arm playfully. “I can’t believe you say such things, even if it’s true. You’re...”

“What?” he chuckles.

“Dangerous. And my cure,” I sigh.

Igor’s smile radiates to my very core. Everything about him enthralls me.

“God, I don’t even recognize myself anymore,” I admit, pushing a strand of hair away from my face.

“Likewise,” he murmurs, pecking my nose and brushing a knuckle across my cheek.

Being in his arms awakens something primal in both of us—a need that only we can satisfy in each other. At this moment, I have no more doubts left that he’s the one. Every barrier I’ve built, every wall I’ve raised to keep others at bay, he crumbles. He sees right through me, understands parts of me I’ve kept hidden from everyone else.

But soon I will leave him behind.

“Hold me for a while longer,” I whisper, burying my face in his neck. “There’s no place I’d rather be than right here, with you.”

“Always, volchitsa ,” he says softly, pulling me into his arms.

With my cheek against his chest, I let his heartbeat relax me. It’s steady and strong, in step with mine. Peace flows through me, but I know it won’t last. Soon I’ll be back in Russia, and this will be just a memory. This moment can be captured, replayed, and remembered. But our lives are worlds apart—mine is in Russia, his here.

And while I cling to him, my anxiety’s still at the highest level. In a couple of hours, the sun will rise. The kids will wake up. We’ll meet reality.

But right now, it’s only us.