“Shh,” he replied before doing it again. “In time, love, in time.”
I was running out of time. His hand slipped between my legs and I whimpered as he slid a finger inside my wet warmth. “So fucking wet,” he growled, flicking it up against the place that throbbed for him and him only. “I wonder if I can get you to scream my name again.”
If he kept doing that, it wasn’t going to be hard. Floods of emotions and sensations were coursing through my body, my nerves strung out and waiting for that moment when I would let go.
Artem made sure I did. I screamed his name a moment later and he buried his face in my shoulder as my body was wracked with pleasure, flooding his hand and most of the sheets underneath us. I barely registered him removing his finger and sliding his cock in me, filling me to my very core. “Fuck, Emma,” he whispered, towering over me. “You’re so fucking tight.”
I opened my eyes to find him watching me, his entire body shaking as he held himself over me. Reaching up, I touched his cheek, the roughness of his stubble grating across my palm. “I love you, Artem.”
He stilled, his eyes widening. “What?”
I gave him a tender smile. The words had not been said lightly, and I sure as heck didn’t regret them. “I love you. I want to be your wife.”
He visibly swallowed, his expression hard as stone as if he were trying to process what I was saying to him. “Emma.”
“Love me, Artem,” I cut in, angling my hips to meet his. He was right. This wasn’t the time for words. “Love me.”
He slammed into me and I groaned, grasping at his arms desperately to find something to hold onto. There was no doubt in my mind it would always be like this between us, only growing wilder and more passionate with time.
And love. There was love here. I didn’t need to hear the words from his lips. I could feel it with every stroke, every bruising kiss that he was placing on my lips.
This wasn’t the Artem that had done this to me before. This was someone completely different.
I pushed at his shoulders. “Let me on top,” I begged, slowing his assault on my body. “Please.” I wanted to watch him as he buried in me. I wanted to have a measure of control over this strong leader of the bratva.
His jaw clenched, but he relented, rolling us over until I was settled on top of his cock. I moaned as he filled me completely, rubbing my hands over his chest and tracing the scars that were explicitly Artem. “I love you,” I told him again, rocking my body against his. He hadn’t heard it enough since his parents had passed and I was going to tell him at every opportunity, remind him that someone was waiting at home for him.
I loved him for the man he was, not the titles or his power.
“Emma,” he groaned, gripping my hips and helping me along. I cried out his name as another orgasm hit me, now frantically moving over him so that I could give him the same relief. I wanted Artem to lose control. I wanted to be the reason he did so.
Chapter 11
Artem
She was fucking killing me.
I had tasted Emma, fucked her senseless, but never in our times together had I experienced what I was experiencing right now.
She was loving me. I could feel it in the way she was moving against me, the way she was telling me at every opportunity that she loved me. She was showing me what it meant to love someone.
And hell, I loved her to distraction.
I reached up and grasped one of her breasts, squeezing her nipple until she cried out in pleasure. The result was like a dousing on my cock. She was so fucking wet that I was barely hanging on for dear life, wanting to get all of her before I poured myself into her.
It was never something I liked to allow happen, putting a woman on top and letting her take control. I was always in control, both in and out of the bedroom, but Emma was my wife, and if I couldn’t trust her to do so, then I shouldn’t be married to her.
Fuck me, she was driving me crazy.
I gripped her hips again and angled mine, driving into her until she was sobbing my name, her own body starting to waver. She wanted me to love her and I would, but right now, I wanted to have her completely.
I wanted to own her in a completely different way than I had in the past.
“Artem!” she shouted as beads of sweat started to roll down my chest. I brought myself to a reclining position and pulled her against me, drowning myself in her kiss as I pumped into her. When I finally let go, the rush was unimaginable, pouring my seed into her body with a hoarse shout.
Emma collapsed against me and I fell back onto the bed, my heart hammering in my chest. If that was how it was going to be between us for the rest of my fucking life, I was going to die of a fucking heart attack before I was forty.
What a fucking great way to go.
Placing my hand on her back, I traced her sweaty skin lightly, allowing both of us to recover. I didn’t want to move from this spot. Everything was right in this spot. Nothing could ruin this moment between us.
“Oh my God,” Emma finally groaned, her breath blowing across my chest. “I don’t think I can move.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, me either.”
She lifted her head and met my gaze, resting her chin on my chest. “I’m glad you are home, Artem.”
My fingers stilled. This was home. It was much more than just a mansion that I owned. Emma had made it feel like home and the entire time I had been away, I had been miserable.
But I had to leave. There was a rogue drug dealer who thought he was bigger than me, who thought that he could attempt to entice my bratva away and attempt to start his own. It was a fucking stupid move on his part. Bratvas weren’t just formed. They were family, generations of servitude to a boss who had been there.
I had eliminated him from even thinking that he could recruit his own, squashing him and those that had thought it would be a good idea to betray their boss.
It had been a fucking long, bloody night, and the entire time, I wanted nothing more than to be with the woman draped over my chest. “I had a fucking long night,” I told her, resuming my stroking on her back. Did she want to hear it all? I suddenly didn’t know what to tell her.
Would she think of me any differently? Would she pull her fucking love back and leave me with a gaping hole in my chest?
“But you are here now,” she said after a moment, pressing her lips to my chest. “That’s all that matters, Artem.”
She didn’t ask questions and for that, I was glad. “Did you mean it?” I asked lightly. I needed to know that she meant it.
“Of course, Artem,” she said softly, her eyes tender. “I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”