Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) Nicole Fox (no david read aloud TXT) 📖

of him slowly, taking the time to kiss his lips, his neck, and his chest.

My breasts spill out into his face and his tongue laps at my nipples for a few moments before I put my hands on his chest and start riding him a little faster. Then he throws his head back and groans, a masculine sound that rumbles from him and through me and just takes everything one notch higher.

I press deep onto him. Rise up and slide down again. There’s so much of him to ride on. So much cock parting me, splitting me. And as the first orgasm starts to build up deep in my core, my muscles tremble and give way.

That’s when Artem takes the reins.

He grips my hips and forces me to balance on my knees. Then he starts ramming into me from below. I can feel his balls slap against my ass and I moan, my breasts bouncing wildly.

I don’t care, though. There’s something intensely animalistic about being taken out in the open, under the sky, surrounded by the elements.

But then, there’s something intensely animalistic about just having sex with Artem.

His cock is a fucking weapon and he impales me over and over again, until my cheeks are flushed from exertion and my body is shivering with jolts of my coming orgasm.

I’m moaning so wildly that Phoenix starts to stir in his bassinet.

He smiles indulgently at me. “You might have to be a little quieter, kukolka,” he tells me.

But I can tell he loves what he does to me. How he makes me shred all my inhibitions to pieces.

“I don’t know if I can,” I answer breathlessly. “Not when you’re fucking me like that.”

I say it partly because it’s true.

And partly because I know what it will do to him when I say something like that.

With a hungry glint in his eye, Artem grabs hold of me suddenly and twists me around so that I’m lying on my back and he’s on top of me.

It’s so quick and sudden that it takes my breath away. But I love feeling tiny in his arms. I love him throwing me around and the flex of his muscles under my fingertips.

He hikes my legs up high around his waist and starts pummeling into me with greater and greater force. And of course I start moaning again, louder than before, and I have even less control over them than I ever do.

Artem’s hand clamps down over my mouth.

I squirm against him and try to seize my moans in my throat.

But that only makes the orgasm come faster.

I tighten my walls around his cock, basically choking him as I come, my screams muffled against his hand.

But he doesn’t stop fucking me. He keeps going, speeding up the tempo of his thrusts until I’m clawing at his back and sucking on his fingers.

I can feel him bruising me, but I don’t fucking care.

I want his cock, and I want it hard.

I throw my head back as my back arches with a second orgasm in as many minutes.

I open my eyes. Artem’s face comes into view. It’s the only thing I see, the only image that fills my world. Him and our son—that’s all that matters. That is my world.

His jaw is clenched with exertion, his irises dark with desire, and little beads of sweat dot his forehead.

I can see his own orgasm coming in his eyes, so I don’t turn my gaze. I want to watch it.

I keep the eye contact and grip him hard with my legs as he fucks me to within an inch of my life.

Give me more, I’m saying with my body. Give me all of you and I’ll give you all of me.

My second orgasm is more violent, more all-consuming than the first, and for a moment, it feels as though my heart is going to beat right out of my chest.

I’m riding high on all the new sensations coursing through my body that I barely even notice Artem coming inside me seconds later.

He stays on top of me propped up on his elbows. He kisses my neck and my breasts, rubbing his face in between them.

I run my hands over his hair and wait patiently for my heartbeat to calm down a little.

“Wow,” I breathe when it’s all said and done. I search for words to describe what just happened between us and come up empty. “I mean… wow.”

He turns to me and smiles, before slowly shifting off me.

“How’s the little man?” he asks.

I pull myself up enough to look into Phoenix’s bassinet. He’s still sleeping contentedly, his little lips moving gently in a suckling motion that’s so precious it gives me no choice other than to lean down and kiss his nose.

“Sleeping like the angel he is,” I reply.

“I’m glad his mama’s screaming didn’t wake him up,” Artem teases.

I hit his arm and settle into the crook of his embrace. “That was your fault, not mine.”

He laughs. “Well, I’m happy to take the blame for that one.”

We lie like that for another half an hour before Phoenix wakes up and demands milk. I feed him as Artem swims in the ocean. He’s glistening and beautiful, a mirage flashing between the waves.

This is what I always wanted.

This is what I need.

Ocean. Artem. Phoenix.

My pulse quickens as I watch Artem run out of the ocean. Ice-blue drops of water glint off his muscular body like diamonds.

When he joins me back on our large beach blanket, I pull out the picnic lunch I’d made for our day at the beach and we pig out on ham and cheese sandwiches, salt and vinegar potato chips, sweet cherry tarts.

Artem drinks beer. I drink lemonade. Everything feels kind of magical.

Careful now, Esme. Nothing lasts forever.

I swat away the unwelcome thought, but it lingers at the back of my head stubbornly. I’m aware that Artem and I still need to have a discussion about our future.

But I’m putting it off.

I can sense he is, too.

We both just want to