Knocked Up by the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #3)

Chapter 12 - Ivan

"I want you to show me what it means to be your wife."

Her words echoed on repeat in his mind, and Ivan muffled a groan in the kiss. Amy didn't know what she was asking for. He bent to pick her up again, his cock throbbing in the cradle of her thighs as he walked toward the stairs. Need thrummed in his veins, making it difficult to concentrate. He wouldn't drop his little bear, though. His fingers tightened on her thighs, feeling her soft skin beneath his grip as she kissed and sucked on his neck, feeding fuel to the fire inside of him.

"You're mine," he muttered into her hair, squeezing his eyes shut as she rocked against him. He could've found his bed in his sleep; he'd walked this path dead drunk a few times before, but he stood on the landing, pressing her against the railing just to feel this a little longer, savoring the intoxicating blend of passion and desire.

"Ivan!" she squeaked, her cry echoing in the silence of his apartment as he bent to his knees, pulling her pajama shorts down with a jerk of his hand. Her back leaned against the railing, her gasps echoing in his ears as he spread her thighs.

"You shave," he muttered hoarsely, fingers running across the surface of her pussy. "So fucking beautiful."

Her whimpers sounded like music to his ears as he toyed with her, dipping his thumb into the wetness coating the lips of her pussy and spreading it around her clit. The movement made her hiss, and her fingernails dug into his head.

"Tell me you need this," he demanded, wanting to hear it from her lips again.

"I want this," she answered, her voice breathless as she spread her legs further. Like she was desperate for this... for him. He rewarded her efforts, pressing two fingers into her entrance and thrusting at an unhurried pace. She clenched around him with every inward thrust, her body fighting him the moment his fingers dragged out.

"I want this," she gasped, and then again, more fervently this time.

"Good girl," he mumbled, scissoring his fingers until her warm muscles gave in and he could add another finger on the next thrust.

"IVAN!" she squealed, tightening around him again. "Oh, fuck, that's too much!"

His scalp burned from her tugging, and he grinned, pressing kisses to her thighs. "Ride it out for me, Mishka. We're just getting started."

She whined deep in her throat, curling her body closer to him. "Tell me what I want to hear," he demanded, pulling his fingers out and sucking the wetness he pulled with him, his own need riding him dangerously high. He pushed them back inside her, eager to make her feel as crazy as he did.

"Tell me you like my fingers," he growled, watching her lust-drunk gaze. "Tell me you want my tongue in your pussy. Tell me you want me to kiss you and fuck you until you can't stand, Mishka, because I'm going to, but I need to hear you say it."

Her body shuddered, and her voice cracked as she replied, "Stop making promises and do it then."

Snickering at her defiance, he curled his fingers and bent to suck her clit into his mouth. She climaxed in seconds, her legs trembling as she gave a broken cry. Her body shuddered with pleasure. He wanted to see it again, no... feel it, on his cock.

Ivan sucked softly, savoring her squeak of, "Too much."

When he let her go, she was panting. He got to his feet, dragged her to his bed, and laid her out. Her legs spread wide enough for him to see the evidence of her arousal where it had started to drip down her thighs.

Amy stared at him, rosy-cheeked and lips parted, her vulnerability making him harder than ever.

"So fucking beautiful," he muttered, dropping his pants. His hands reached for his cock, and he fisted it cruelly as he spread her wider. "I need you bare, Amy. Tell me I can."

"I'm on birth control," she mumbled distractedly as he nudged his tip against her entrance.

"Yes or fucking no, Mishka," he snarled, his body tensed above her. He didn't give a shit if she was on birth control or not. Flashes of a pregnant Amy flickered through his mind, and his whole body shuddered with want. No , he really didn't care if she was on birth control.

"Are you clean?" she whispered, and his grin was smug. Even lust-drunk and underneath him, she was pushing against his control. He loved it as much as he hated that she didn't trust him. That would come soon. It had to.

"Yes, I'm fucking clean. Yes or no." He pressed a little deeper, rocking into her the barest amount. He wouldn't risk her like that. Her hands reached for his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as she added to the little scratches she'd left there earlier. Ivan's eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Amy?"

"Yes," she hissed, arching with a scream when he thrust to the hilt into her. A groan burst from his lips, and he palmed her thigh, leaning on an elbow as he rocked into her.

There was no finesse; he didn't have the patience for that with her underneath him like this. His name spilled from her lips as he fucked her—his normal endurance gone the second her pussy clenched for him, and Ivan moaned her name on a breath, careful not to put his full weight on his wife as she arched beneath him. Even strong as she was, he'd crush her.

"More," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Ivan. Please," she begged, and the plea sent a thrill through him, igniting something primal in his blood.

He grunted, hips knocking hers on every quickened thrust—the tension built between them, and he reached down to grip her wrists, pinning them gently to the mattress. Her eyes widened, a moan spilling from her lips as he picked up his pace until she gasped, her body arching and squirming beneath his.

"Is this what you need, little bear? To be mine?" he asked, breathless, matching his thrusts to her eager cries. Bending to suck on her nipple, he heard her breath hitch a second before she let out a sharp squeal.

"Yes!" she sobbed, her legs clinging to his hips as he bore down on her. "Please!" Her whole body jerked as she shattered around him, moaning his name. Ivan hissed out a breath, pressing into her deeply as ecstasy spiraled through him.

***

They fell asleep sometime after the third or fourth round, and Ivan could've stayed in bed forever—probably would've too if his brother hadn't knocked on his front door.

"Ivan?" Adrian called, not nearly soft enough. Ivan glared into the darkness, carefully untangling himself from Amy and grabbing a pair of sweats. He was quiet, happy to see her asleep.

"What are you doing?" he muttered, meeting his brother in the kitchen. Adrian glanced at him in disgust.

"You left your fucking gun on the counter, moron. What are you doing?"

Shit . Ivan grabbed it, cursing his carelessness as he avoided the tub of melted ice cream. "Amy's asleep. You better not fucking wake her up."

Rolling his eyes, Adrian pulled his phone from his pocket. "I called, but you didn't answer. By the look of things, you were busy."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Kostya called. We need to get to Cloud 9," Adrian muttered, seeming distracted by something on his phone. Ivan frowned.

"Something happen?"

"Not yet."

Fingers running through his hair, he nodded. "Is the building secure?"

Adrian grunted his confirmation. "I've got men monitoring the lobby."

He didn't like that, Ivan frowned and his brother rolled his eyes. "Ilya's playing poker with a couple more in my apartment. The doors open."

That sounded better, Ivan let out a breath as he moved toward the stairs to get dressed. Amy would be safe in his apartment. She had to be. "I'll be down in five minutes."

Adrian didn't answer, but even if he had, Ivan wouldn't have heard. He jogged up the stairs, double-checking if Amy slept before grabbing a suit and shoes. It took him three minutes, and then Ivan was leaving the apartment, hearing the front door click shut behind him.

Five of Adrian's best sat at the table in his apartment, playing a game of poker with the door open so that they could watch the comings and goings. Ilya met his eyes with a smile, and he tipped his head in greeting toward them as they passed on the way to the elevator.

Another minute later, the doors opened to the underground parking. Ivan strode toward the silver Camaro waiting between his Lambo and Amy's dented hatchback. The only ones with access to this parking lot were the Bratva, and it showed. Bulletproof SUVs waited next to sleek sports cars and his bikes. It was a car thief's wet dream. Ivan would know.

The security cameras followed their movement as they climbed into Adrian's Camaro and drove out. "Have you cracked the password on Boris's burner yet?"

"Yes," his brother muttered, frowning.

"What did you find?"

"Couple of phone calls to different numbers. One on the night he was shot; he must've let them know what was going on before we picked him up. It's hard to tell when the call ended..." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as Ivan frowned. "I'm running the numbers, but I think Boris was on the call when we picked him up. It's possible whoever's sending those packages heard everything that went down."

"Fuck. You're telling me he was tapped," Ivan muttered heavily. If that was the case, then whoever was on the call would've heard what happened when Amy walked into the room. Would've heard him claim her as his fiancée.

"Yep," his brother sighed, reaching to flick the radio on. Hip-hop blared from the speakers the rest of the way, covering the silence.

They reached Cloud 9 in a few moments, parked the car, and then went inside to find Kostya waiting for them near the bar. The club was thriving, music beating against Ivan's eardrums. Kostya looked like he'd already had a few drinks. He smirked, tipping his vodka toward Ivan. "Look who finally left his bed. Too busy to answer your phone, Vanya?"

"Piss off." Ivan grabbed a barstool near him, signaling for the bartender.

"He was in bed with Amy when I got to his apartment," Adrian snorted, his eyes scanning the dance floor.

"I thought she hated your guts," Kostya chuckled as they ordered their drinks.

Rolling his eyes at their ribbing, Ivan turned to look at what they were monitoring. There was a group of women on the dance floor, and he frowned. "Mind explaining why you both dragged me from my wife's side?"

Adrian waited until the bartender left them. "Four of Cillian's men have been here for the past three hours. Something to do with one of those four over there."

"The women? Who are they?" Ivan questioned, bringing his tumbler of whiskey to his lips for a sip. They all looked around Amy's age, early twenties. Probably still in college.

"Was hoping you'd know that," Kostya muttered, crossing his ankles. "Haven't seen the Irish in months; now they're suddenly everywhere."

"What the hell do you want me here for then?" Ivan frowned. The sun would rise in a couple of hours, and he wanted to be there to wake Amy up when it did.

With a roll of his eyes, Adrian muttered, "You'd think you'd be more grateful, considering I've had to sit looking for clues in your wife's packages. Shut up and drink your whiskey. I want to see what they're doing here."

"Speaking of your wife," Kostya rumbled. "I had a look into that club you messaged me about. It's one of Aleksander Ivonov's places."

The name sounded familiar. Ivan frowned, trying to pick through his memory to figure out where he'd heard it before. Adrian snorted, sliding his empty tumbler across the bar and holding out a finger for another one. "You'd probably remember his wife better. Red-haired cougar, caught sleeping with you a couple of times."

Ivan grimaced. "Katya."

"That's the one," Konstantine snickered, but Adrian's face was still grim.

"Ivonov shot her a couple of months after your affair ended—she was fucking one of the newer members of his security."

"You think that might have something to do with the threats Amy keeps getting?" Ivan frowned, Aleksander had been pissed off when he caught the two of them in bed—but that bad blood was over three years old, and they'd settled their differences during a game of poker. In his defense, he hadn't known Katya was married when he slept with her. He'd made sure to mention that in between a bottle of Lev's favorite shit vodka. Mikhail would've beaten him bloody otherwise, it didn't look good if his lieutenants were fucking Bratva wives.

"I think it's suspicious," his brother answered. "Wanted to find out if you want me to dig into it."

"It wouldn't hurt," Ivan muttered as he settled in to observe the group in their club. He ended up staying for two hours until they left, laughing at something he couldn't hear.

"Drive me back," he told his brother, but Adrian shook his head.

"Get a cab. I'm going to tail them."

"You've got way too much fucking time on your hands," Ivan muttered, already pulling out his cell phone. He didn't argue too much, though. They were all allowed their vices, his was just waiting for him in his bed.