Ruthless Bratva King (New York Russian Mafia Kings #1)

32. Elena

32

ELENA

I wake up in the middle of the night to find Dmitri on his feet.

“Get on your knees,” he commands suddenly as I blink the sleep from my eyes.

Without hesitation, I obey, slipping out from under his arm and kneeling beside him on the bed. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for his next instruction.

He reaches out, tilting my chin up so that I’m looking directly into his eyes. “Good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with approval. “Now, show me how much you want me.”

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “How do you want me to do that?” I ask

His smirk is wicked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Use your imagination, moya lisitsa . Or do I need to spell it out for you?”

My cheeks flush, but I don’t look away. Summoning every ounce of courage I have, I lean forward, pressing my lips to his thighs.

I trail kisses along his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat, feeling the rough texture of his scars beneath my mouth.

He lets out a low groan, his fingers tangling in my hair. “That’s it,” he encourages, his voice husky. “Show me who you belong to.”

I glance up at him, seeking permission, and he nods, his grip on my hair tightening slightly.

Taking a deep breath, I wrap my hand around his length, marveling at the heat and hardness of him.

I stroke him slowly, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. Instead, I see only pleasure, his eyes darkening with desire.

“Take me in your mouth,” he growls, his voice commanding and unyielding.

I don’t hesitate, lowering my mouth to him. I take him in slowly, my tongue swirling around the tip before sinking down further. His groan of approval spurs me on, and I bob my head, my hand moving in tandem with my mouth.

“Faster,” he orders, his hips thrusting gently to meet my movements.

I comply, increasing my pace, focusing solely on pleasing him. His hands guide me, controlling the rhythm, and I surrender completely to his will.

His hands tighten in my hair, holding me steady as he pulls himself out of my mouth. I look up at him, breathing heavily, my lips swollen and wet from the effort.

His dark eyes are wild, almost feral, and they lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my stomach clench.

“On the bed," he commands, his voice low and thick with desire. "Now."

I scramble to obey, my legs trembling as I climb onto the plush mattress. He doesn’t move immediately, instead standing at the edge of the bed, watching me with that predatory gaze.

His chest rises and falls with each breath, his sculpted muscles taut and glistening under the dim light. The tattoos that snake across his skin seem alive, shifting with every movement.

"Turn around," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "On all fours."

I do as I’m told, positioning myself so that I’m facing the headboard. I hear him step closer, the weight of the bed dipping as he kneels behind me. His hands find my hips, his touch firm but not rough, and I shiver at the contact.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice a deep rumble that sends heat coursing through my veins.

I nod, unable to speak, my throat too dry to form words.

"Say it," he demands, his fingers digging slightly into my flesh.

"Yes," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I trust you."

He lets out a low hum of approval before one hand slides around to my front, his fingers brushing against my clit.

I gasp, my body arching instinctively into his touch. He teases me, circling my entrance without entering, until I’m panting and writhing, desperate for more.

"Beg," he orders, his voice rough with need.

"Please," I whimper, my hands gripping the sheets. "Please, Dmitri."

"What do you want?" he growls, his breath hot against my ear.

"I… I want you," I stammer, my cheeks burning with humiliation and arousal. "I want you inside me."

He doesn’t respond right away, drawing out the moment, his fingers still teasing me mercilessly.

Finally, he moves, positioning himself at my entrance. I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against me, and I tense, bracing myself.

He pushes in slowly, inch by excruciating inch, until he’s fully seated within me. A strangled moan escapes my lips, the sensation overwhelming.

"S-Shit," I choke out, my nails digging into the mattress.

"You’re so tight," he mutters, his voice strained. "So fucking perfect."

He begins to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in. The pace is slow, deliberate, each stroke designed to make me feel every bit of him.

His grip on my hips tightens, guiding my movements, forcing me to meet his thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with our ragged breaths.

"Faster," I plead, my voice breaking. "Please, faster."

He obliges, increasing his speed, his cock driving into me with a force that makes me cry out. My body shakes with pleasure, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

One hand leaves my hip, sliding up my spine to grip the back of my neck, holding me firmly in place. His other hand ventures lower, finding my clit and rubbing circles over it in time with his thrusts.

"Oh God," I moan, my vision blurring. "I’m… I’m going to?—"

"Not yet," he interrupts, his tone firm. "You come when I tell you to."

I whimper, my body trembling on the edge, but I hold on, obediently waiting for his command. He continues to fuck me, his pace relentless, his fingers working my clit with precision.

I can feel the pressure building, my muscles tightening, until I’m certain I can’t take it anymore.

"Now," he growls, his voice harsh and commanding. "Come for me."

The dam breaks, and I scream, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. My body convulses, every muscle contracting as waves of pleasure roll through me.

He doesn’t stop, continuing to thrust into me, prolonging my release until I’m gasping and begging for mercy.

With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside me, his cock pulsing as he comes.

“Good girl,” he says, sliding slowly from me.

I collapse onto the bed, utterly spent. He lies down beside me, his arm draping possessively over my waist.

My hair is damp with sweat, my limbs heavy. I’ve never felt this kind of contentment, this soul-deep sense of exhilaration and peace all at once.

“That,” I murmur, my cheek pressed to the hard plane of his chest, “was… wow.”

His low chuckle vibrates against my skin. “I aim to please.”

“You’re a damn overachiever, then,” I reply, smiling faintly, though my voice is drowsy.

“Not bad for your second time ever.” He falls silent for a beat, staring at the ceiling. Then he runs a hand through his dark, tousled hair. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

My breath catches. It’s not just the words—it’s the way he says them, like he’s telling me something he shouldn’t.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my chest tightening.

His thumb brushes along my jaw, his touch featherlight. But just as quickly, his expression closes off, and he lets his hand fall away.

“Dmitri?” I ask softly, sensing the shift. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, but his jaw tightens. “Now go back to sleep. That’s an order.”