Chapter 20 - Ninel
When Artyom wrapped his arms around me, I tried to yank his arms off of me, but instead he only tightened his hold.
He was right. I had pulled away but how could I not?
“Let me go!” I yelled, clawing at his biceps.
“I get it! I’m nothing more than a revenge pawn in your game.
There's no use of you pretending to comfort me! You only married me to control my brothers…but this? Me carrying your child? That wasn’t part of your plan.
That was the one thing you couldn’t control…
and you probably regret that I am pregnant. Just leave! I need time!”
I shoved my hands between us, pressing them against his chest, ready to push him away. I didn’t want Artyom touching me. Not when his touch lit fire works in my chest and created an ache between my thighs. I couldn't deal with his rollercoaster of emotions. I just wanted to be left alone.
But then I felt it…his heart hammering against my palms, his body trembling. He clung to me like I was driftwood in a storm-tossed sea, as though if he let go of me, he’d vanish beneath the waves, lost forever.
Wait…had he really been worried? About me? About my safety?
I froze, closing my eyes. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t the Artyom I knew…the cold, manipulative man who bent the world to his will. No, this man holding me was different. He wasn’t ruthless, or manipulative, or cruel. He was broken…vulnerable…making him seem more…human.
And seeing him like this…not only softened my heart but moistened my pussy lips.
“Artyom, I'm sorry if I worried you…I just needed time.”
Artyom pulled away from me and cupped my face.
“I went home to check on you.” His voice was strained.
“And when I couldn't find you, Kira or Ruslan…” His voice trailed off and he rested his forehead on mine.
“With everything happening in the faction…I thought they got to you…” his voice cracked.
“Printsessa, promise me that you won't run away from me again.”
“I won't.”
Artyom didn’t answer with words. His mouth claimed mine brutally, and I welcomed it, our tongues dancing together. His hands slid down to my ass, gripping hard before lifting me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him, the kiss unbroken, while he carried me to the bedroom.
When he laid me on the bed, he hovered over me, his eyes intense.
“Printsessa…” His voice laced with desire as his lips dragged down my throat, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of my breasts that were exposed via the sweetheart neckline of my dress.
I moaned and my legs locked tighter around him, pulling him closer until his erection was pressed against my throbbing pussy.
“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” he said huskily, lifting his head, his gaze burning into mine.
“I’ve never felt this before,” he admitted, every word dripping with torment. “And now that I have, I can’t live without it. Ninel Rykov, you are mine. Do you understand?”
He palmed my pussy over the thin fabric of my panties and I closed my eyes and moaned.
“Ninel!” he growled.
My eyes shot open.
“Your husband is asking you a question. Do you understand that you are mine?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Because truth be told, I wanted nothing more than to be ruined by the man towering over me. Every inch of his presence set fire through my veins; the heat of his touch alone made my thoughts obscene.
“I’m not a man who makes love, Printsessa,” he growled. “I take what I want. When I want it. How I want it. Tell me you can handle that.”
And in that moment, a thought hit me: I’d always been trained to protect myself, to be ready for anything a Bratva man might throw at me.
My brothers had taught Mariya and I never to be vulnerable.
I was supposed to be the Bratva woman who could fight, withstand, survive.
But with Artyom…there was something different.
Here, under him, I felt a strange, aching relief.
A need to release the part of me that always had to be tough.
I wanted to let him be in control. He needed to be in control. And I wanted to give that to him.
“I can handle it,” I whispered, though my chest trembled.
In one swift, possessive motion, he tore my thong away, and I gasped at the sharp, exquisite sting that spread through me. Next, he ripped my dress and bra, leaving me bare before him, every curve exposed, every nerve alive under his gaze.
His lips hovered over my ear. “Finger yourself. Let me watch you coat your fingers with the sweet juices from your cunt.”
Then he lifted himself off me, and took a step back to the edge of the bed.
My face flushed. I had masterbated before but never to an audience.
“Printsessa…” The low rumble of his warning sent sparks running straight through my pussy.
I parted my legs slowly, trembling, and pushed two fingers into myself. I closed my eyes and thrust into myself creating a rhythm and moaned. But, instead of the shame I should've felt under his intense gaze, excitement and anticipation took over.
“Eyes on me, printsessa,” he demanded.
I obeyed, and I watched as he got rid of his clothes. First, he got rid of his shoes and socks. Then his fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, until he stood before me, shirtless.
I watched the wolf pack inked along Artyom’s neck roll over his broad shoulders, the fur etched into his skin shifting into black roses strangled by barbed wire.
Across his chest, golden eyes of a wolf gleamed through the thorns, as if watching me…
hungry, prowling, waiting to devour. His arms bore the same torment: roses bound tight, the barbs tearing into skeletal fingers that clawed their way free.
My breath caught, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from him.
I moaned louder this time as just the thought of his naked chest press against me almost sent me over the edge.
As he stood there I realized how much power he had here, how effortlessly he could dominate me, lift me, move me however he wanted. He was muscular and three times bigger than my tiny frame.
And yet…I wanted it.
My hands moved faster and I added another finger, as he eased his pants down. I was desperate to keep pace with the furnace that had been lit inside me.
Once he removed his pants and his boxers he stood there stroking his long, hard cock.
In the car, I’d been on top, and I couldn't appreciate the man standing in front of me. Here, with space between us, with him fully unleashed, in all his glory, he was a sight to behold.
Artyom was a master piece without his clothes on.
“You like what you see, printsessa?”
“Yes,” I breathed, almost a whimper.
“Are you ready to do everything I ask?” He took a step forward, his eyes on my pussy.
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
I wanted nothing more than to surrender to him, to let him hold the reins, to let myself be seen and claimed in a way I never thought I could allow. And for the first time, I didn’t just accept it, I craved it.
God! I wanted to taste him…to feel him stretch my aching pussy and sink into me until all I could think about was him.
My legs quivered, my release rising. My fingers moved faster…and drowned in my own pleasure my hips bucked as my breathing spiked. My eyes closed…I was almost there…
“Move your fingers, printsessa.” Artyom's voice was sharp, slicing through my thoughts.
My body froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. My eyes opened.
“W-why?”
He arched a brow, amusement in his gaze. “Are you questioning me? Remove them and taste yourself. Taste how sweet that cunt is.”
Wanting to please him, I slid my fingers away and, daringly, brought each one to my lips. One by one. A low, hungry guttural groan escaped him.
A thrill shot through me knowing that I had coaxed that sound from him. It made my body ache for him even more.
Artyom crawled over me, lips devouring mine, cock pressing insistently against my dripping folds.
I moaned into his mouth, rocking my hips against him, as his hands gripped my breasts, pinching hard, eliciting sharp, delicious cries from me.
“Oh…God…”
“Do you like that?” he murmured, repeating the motion.
I tried to answer but I could only moan. His hands left my breasts and drifted down, tracing slow patterns over my stomach.
“Since you didn’t answer, my hands will linger here,” he murmured, wickedly.
“No…” I pleaded, biting my lower lip.
“No what?”
My fingers tangled in his hair tugged lightly. His eyes light up and he moaned.
“Touch me…please…like you did before…”
Desperation was laced so much in my voice, that I didn't recognize it. Yet, I didn’t care. And I know he didn’t either. He needed this control, and I needed him to claim it.
Artyom’s lips curled into a devilish smile and he pinched my nipples again, drawing more cries from me his sweet torture. Just as pain threatened to overtake pleasure, his mouth descended on one, tongue swirling, sucking gently, as he alternated between the two.
His fingers didn't move from my breasts, he stroked them, his cock still pressed against me, driving me insane.
“Artyom…”
He lifted his head and looked at me, lifting a brow.
“I need you…” I rolled my hips against him again.
“You have me,” he said before taking my breast into his mouth once more.
“Artyom. Fuck me.”
This time when he lifted his head a smile broadened his lips.
“Tell me again.” He pinched my nipple hard, sending a jolt straight to my pussy.
“I want my husband to fuck me,” I cried out as he pinched my nipple again.
Artyom rose up over me. “Wrap your arms around your legs and hold yourself open for me, printsessa.”
Eagerly, I obeyed. Artyom bent his head and lapped up my pussy juices as he squeezed my clit.
Holy fucking crap!
I exploded all over his tongue as he threw me over the edge, but he didn't stop. My legs shook and I could barely keep them up. When he lifted his head he kissed me again and I tasted myself on him.
With one movement he drove his cock into me and I cried out in pleasure.
“Fucking God yes…”
“This will always be my cunt, won't it?” He ground out as he pounded into me.
“Yes!”
As his cock continued its brutal assault inside my pussy, his fingers worked my clit mercilessly…rubbing hard, pinching, tugging…sending my entire nervous system into a frenzy of pleasure and pain.
I shattered again, my cries echoing off the walls and Artyom followed soon after.
When it ended, my arms and legs slipped uselessly to the sheets. If someone had pressed a gun to my head at that moment, I still wouldn’t have been able to move. Artyom slid out of me and kissed me tenderly.
Without a word, he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bathroom. He tested the water, then we stepped in, with him supporting me. He squeezed some of the bath soap onto his hands, lathered it then gently worked it over my skin. When he was done, he quickly washed himself.
When I thought we were going to step out of the shower, he pressed my back to his chest, his hand wrapping around my throat.
“Mine,” he said huskily.
Then worked my clit until I broke again, my cries ringing out. My knees buckled, and his grip tightened. He reached over and switched off the shower before scooping me into his arms once more.
He carried me back to the bed, taking a towel along. After sitting me down, he dried me, before drying himself. Even softened, his cock was still something terrifyingly beautiful.
Artyom pulled back the covers, slid me beneath them, and climbed in after me. He pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me. I nestled into him, stroking his chest as he ran his fingers along my arm, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
I wanted this. I wanted him. More than just sex. I wanted the pull between us to be real, something deeper than lust clawing at my veins. Yes, he was jagged, scarred, rough where his past had broken him, but that was what made him a feared and respected Bratva leader. It was what made him…him.
I knew he would take care of me, in every way that mattered, in and out of the bedroom. Now that I’d tasted him, he seeped into my soul like a narcotic. One that I knew was dangerous, but oh so satisfying. I couldn’t let him go. I didn't want to.
I loved him.
Wait…
I sighed.
He said that I was his. Legally, I was because I was his wife. And I couldn't help but wonder if he loved me or if this was just him claiming me as his property.
Ninel, stop overthinking and putting words in Artyom’s mouth. Give him time.
Even if he did love me, I knew love wouldn’t be enough. Not if he kept warring with my brothers. Not if we were standing on opposite sides of a battlefield.
I looked up at him.
“Artyom?” My voice was soft.
He shifted so his eyes met mine.
“Yes, Ninel?” His face was unreadable.
Shit. Had our moment slipped away already?
I swallowed. I needed to still try.
“Can you please stop the revenge plan against my family? It’s affecting all of us. It's tearing us apart. I just…I just want things to go back to the way they were before.”
My words lingered in the air for a few minutes before Artyom spoke.
“Ninel…can we please just enjoy this? Enjoy us? I don’t want to think about anything else.”
The plea in his voice twisted me. I nodded and snuggled into him. I knew I couldn't push him. He didn't want to talk about it now and I'd respect that. For now, I'd focus on the man next to me.
This was us, in this moment, being who we wanted to be without judgment, away from the world. And I had planned to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.