“Corrie...”
She unties the halter top of her lingerie and folds the sheer fabric down to reveal her breasts. And holy fuck, what breasts they are. My mouth waters for a taste so I bend my head and take one sweet, hard nipple into my mouth. Corrie throws her head back and moans, threading her fingers through my hair. Holding me against her like I would ever willingly move.
She reaches between us to fiddle with my jeans, to push them away, and when that fails because of the angles we’re bent into, she puts her hand inside my boxers and wraps her fingers around my cock. Stroking. Slow. Letting her hand slide from base to tip and my hips move in rhythm.
“I want you.” I say the words against her skin because I don’t want to move, but I need to be inside her. I need to feel her hot, wet pussy wrapped around my dick. I need … everything. “Tell me what you want, Corrie.”
She lifts her head and smiles. “I want you to take off your pants, sit in that chair, and let me ride you until you can’t take it anymore.”
“As you wish,” I say with a grin. I slide my pants down and sit in the chair because there’s not a lot I like more in life than having Corrie sitting on my dick. But this time, when she slides her body down, I nearly lose it.
She’s so incredible.
So wet.
And so, so mine.
She latches onto my neck and sucks the spot just below my ear that has to be connected by some nerve to my dick because I feel every pull of her mouth in my cock while she’s bouncing up and down on me. It’s intoxicating.
I want to hold on, want her screaming before I let go, but she drags her mouth up so I can feel her hot breath against my ear. “Tommy. I love you.”
There’s nothing hotter than having the woman I love whisper that she loves me while she’s fucking me. “I love you.” When I say it back, the words are punctuated by panting.
Then she’s sitting up, holding my face in her hands and smiling. “Oh, and I’m pregnant.”
I’m so fucking happy I could burst. I don’t know what to say at first, so I just pull her against me and sigh. “Let’s give twins a go.”
She chuckles in my ear. “It really doesn’t work that way.”
After I kiss her again, slow and sweet and soft, I pull back and smile. “That’s good. Because if it does, you’re gonna end up having a whole litter after today.”
“Gross! Also, very incorrect.”
My grin widens. “Yeah, well, I had other things on my mind back in high school health class.”
When she throws her head back to laugh, I kiss the swell of her breast, and she leaves her back arched, changing the angle, and my breath catches. Aside from the intensity of how I feel about her, and the happiness that comes with knowing we’re finally going to have the family I always dreamed of with her, I’m so in love with her I might never come back down to Earth.
She starts moving again, her gaze locked into mine. Hot. Confident. Bold.
“I’m going to come,” she whimpers.
I want to watch her, but the pressure is at max power, and I squeeze my eyes shut as we come. It doesn’t happen every time that we can simultaneously orgasm but I’m glad that it does now. Because this is one of the most perfect days of my life. This just makes it better.
Thanks for reading SCARS HE GAVE ME, Book 2 in the Bratva Crime Syndicate trilogy—but don’t stop now! Click here to download the sizzling Extended Epilogue for a glimpse almost two years into the future. Businesses are flourishing, babies are being born, and some more hot lovemaking is about to go down!
Sneak Preview of SINS HE TAUGHT ME
The Bratva Crime Syndicate trilogy concludes with the final volume— a sexy, standalone single dad mafia romance: SINS HE TAUGHT ME, featuring Bratva don Matvei Morozov and his struggle to raise a young boy who needs his help while wrestling with unexpected feelings for the daughter of his enemy.
SINS HE TAUGHT ME:
A Single Dad Dark Mafia Romance
Click here to get it now!
He ripped me from my life and made me his.
Now he wants my help.
But some sins can never be forgiven.
Matvei Morozov.
A name that’s haunted my family for years.
A whisper in the shadows. A monster in the darkness.
Now, the billionaire mob boss has claimed me as collateral.
That means I’m his—until my father pays his debts.
His to touch.
His to bend.
His to own.
But Matvei wants more than just me on my knees.
And when he drags me to his mansion, I see what the don is hiding:
An innocent child who needs my help.
Matvei Morozov, the single dad?
Nothing makes sense anymore.
He wants me to help him raise the boy.
But the more I submit to what the don wants, the more pressing one question becomes:
If I fall deeper into Matvei’s world…
Will he ever let me go?
Matvei
There isn’t enough booze in the world to make me consider fucking the girl in my lap.
I sigh and grab my drink, taking as big of a sip of scotch as I possibly can. Not to convince myself to sleep with her—but to make me forget she’s even here.
She’s been trying to worm her way into my bed since the moment my cousin Oleg said “I do” to his new wife. The hours since the wedding ceremony—mostly spent with me ignoring her—have done little to dull her enthusiasm.
I should take it as a compliment. She’s not the only bridesmaid here that’s tried to sneak off with me, though she’s damn sure the most persistent. I’m just not in the mood for it. I have more important things to worry about—after all, someone ought to be watching the grass grow outside the windows of my mansion. Someone ought to make sure the paint dries right.
Christ. Fucking shoot me.
I’m only tolerating her because I can’t be bothered to devote the energy it would take to drag her off my property. And with my staff mostly preoccupied with cleaning up after the wedding festivities—in other words, carting drunk Russians into the waiting taxis—I don’t have anyone handy to do it for me, either.
“Matty…” says Daniella—at least, I think that’s her name—as she tries to tilt my chin towards her. “You’re cute when you’re scowling, you know that?”
“Mm.”
She takes my grunt as an “Oh yeah?” which it absolutely was not. I have to hand it to this girl—she does not give up easily. “I’m serious,” she blathers on. “Has anyone ever told you that you could be a model? You could definitely pull it off.”
I almost laugh at that idea. With all the years of training my father pushed me through to run the Morozov Bratva, modeling would be quite a sudden career reversal. “I think I’ll stick with my current profession.”
She purses her lips in a pout. “Actually, I don’t even know what you do, Matty.”
“That’s by design.”
I have half a mind to snap at her and tell her to stop calling me Matty. She hasn’t earned the right to use nicknames, and even if she had, there isn’t a person alive on this planet that I’d let call me “Matty.” The thought alone makes me shiver.