Gilded Cage: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 1) Nicole Fox (people reading books TXT) 📖

I freeze. Then, with a sigh, I turn to face my wife.

“Why do you think showing vulnerability makes you weak?” she asks me.

“You don’t want to see my vulnerability.”

“You think it’ll scare me off. Make me fear you. Or worse—pity you.”

I look her square in the eyes. My silence serves as my answer.

She reaches out and places her hand on my chest. I can feel myself gravitate towards her, like she’s a magnet drawing me closer.

Sighing again, I lean in and rest my forehead against hers.

“Tell me honestly now,” she whispers. “What do you need, Artem?”

I think about it for a millisecond at most.

But I already know the answer. It coats my tongue like a prayer.

“You.”

She cups my face with her palm and then her lips reach up to mine.

They linger softly for a second before I grab her and pull her into the circle of my arms.

My hands float over her body and land on her ass.

I grip her firmly and lift her up, tucking her legs around my hips, and then I carry her to the waiting bed.

We sink onto the soft covers together, her hands wrapped around my neck as she continues to kiss me. I strip off her panties and bra delicately.

When she’s naked, she removes her hands from around my neck and reaches for the buttons of my shirt. She goes slow, her eyes thick with lust and something deeper as she removes each button and pushes it off my shoulders.

My shirt hits the ground and she reaches for my pants at once. I’m so hard that it takes some maneuvering to get them off.

When I’m naked just like her, she wraps her hand around my girth and strokes slowly, her eyes fixed on my face.

She rubs me slowly as I pepper her neck and breasts with kisses.

I’m ready to enter her, but when I go to spread her thighs apart, she pushes me off her.

“What is it?” I ask, frowning.

She doesn’t answer.

Instead, she twists around and pushes me onto my back.

And then she straddles me.

She looks so fucking sexy, so confident, so powerful.

A queen.

My queen.

Her breasts push together as her hands run down my torso. My cock is pressed against her slit and pre-cum gleams on the tip.

I expect her to lean in and kiss me, but instead, she sinks lower down my body and licks the drop of pre-cum away.

I moan as her fingers play with my balls while her tongue flicks over my cock, teasing and massaging in circular motions.

Once she’s done playing with me, she slips the tip of my cock into her mouth and I close my eyes involuntarily.

It’s the first time her sweet, wet little mouth has been wrapped around my cock and it’s even more transformative than I could have imagined.

She takes her time, sucking slowly on my cock while her hand works the base. Then she starts picking up speed, and I feel myself slide deeper and deeper into her mouth.

When I hit the back of her throat, I moan with pleasure, my body wrung tight with desire as she swallows my cock.

I can feel my orgasm start to peak, but I don’t want this to end. I want it to stretch on and on until I forget my own fucking name.

She takes me right to the edge, devouring me whole, stripping away my pain and my past, until there’s nothing left but the two of us, holed up in our little bubble.

I think she’s going to suck me off until I explode, but then she pulls her mouth away with a soft pop.

Before I can recover, she’s straddling me again.

I watch my cock sink into her pretty little pussy.

I grab her hips as she rides me hard, her boobs bouncing in my face.

I grit my teeth and slam my hips up into her until her back arches and she starts moaning.

She keeps moving, too, creating delicious, wet friction between us until I’m close to losing control of my own orgasm.

Esme is right there with me.

“Artem, you’re going to make me come,” she whimpers as she rides me, her hair flying wildly against her face while drops of perspiration glitter on her breasts.

I slam into her.

One, two, three hard thrusts.

And then I feel her blow up, her body shivering as the orgasm washes over her.

I let myself go in the second after her.

And in that sweaty, passion fueled moment, I do forget my own name. But the name of this woman—my captive, my wife, the last thing my father ever gave to me—remains on my lips.

Esme.

Esme.

Esme.

39

Esme

When I wake up, I’m alone.

I reach out and touch the other side of the mattress. Even though it bears the indent from Artem’s body, it’s cold, too.

Wherever he went to, he’s been gone for a little while at least.

There’s a cold draft blowing from somewhere unseen. The thin sheet on the bed isn’t enough to warm me, so I get up and look around for my clothes.

I see them folded neatly on a chair at the corner of the room by the window.

I pad over and slip on my bra and panties. I’m reluctant to put on the black dress again, but I have nothing else to wear.

There’s a delicious soreness between my legs. And an emptiness, too.

I’m already longing for Artem, desperate for him to fill me again, make me come again.

Going down on him was probably the single most erotic moment of my life. With him in my mouth, it was like I could play his body like a piano. Coax moans and growls from his mouth. Makes his hips twitch and demand more, more, more from me.

And I wanted to give it to him. I wanted to give myself to him.

So I did. And he gave himself right back to me. Until we both went tumbling over the edge together and fell asleep in one tangled, sweaty mess.

I hear murmurs just outside the bedroom door. I recognize Artem’s deep, authoritative