Twilight Sins (Kulikov Bratva Book 1)

Yakov shreds through my silk pajama bottoms with one sharp tug. My panties are shoved to the side even faster. Between one breath and the next, he plunges two fingers into me.

“You are already ready for me,” he snarls in my ear.

“I’m always ready for you.” I plant my palms on the desk behind me so I don’t collapse. Files spill across the desk and flutter to the floor.

“There’s a lot left here to read, Luna. All my secrets laid bare.” His thumb circles higher, brushing across my swollen clit. “Do you still want to read them?”

I tilt my head back as heat builds low in my belly. Yakov leans in and presses a kiss to the hollow of my throat. “No.”

Yakov tugs down my cami with his teeth until my breasts spill free. I loop one hand around the back of his neck and grind my hips against his fingers as he stretches me wide open.

“You’re going to let me fuck the questions out of you? Is that it?”

I slip inside the waistband of his pants and palm the hard length of him. He twitches when I circle him.

“There are a lot of gruesome things here, solnyshka.” His voice is strained. He wants this as much as I do. I can feel it in the way he’s touching me.

“Why are you trying to talk me out of this?” I stroke him again, coaxing a groan out of him. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”

Yakov shoots his other hand to my neck. His fingers band around my throat, tipping me back and back and back until I can barely hold myself up. I’m trembling, both from the pleasure building between my legs and the way I’m teetering on the edge of his desk.

“You may know I want you, but you have no fucking idea for what.” His breath is hot on my neck. I can feel his lips whispering over my skin. “Maybe there is no threat. Maybe I’m keeping you here so I can fuck you whenever I want. When you’re used up, I’ll get rid of you and find someone else.”

“Don’t bother lying.” I take a rasping breath. “Hope told me you’ve never brought another woman home before.”

Yakov’s eyes are dark. When I drag my fingers along the underside of him, a deep growl rumbles through his chest.

“You aren’t going to fuck the questions out of me. I’ll still have questions, but the answer to the most important one isn’t in any of those folders. All of this information can’t tell me what you are showing me right now,” I whisper.

He curls his fingers inside of me and I almost buck off the table. “And what am I showing you?”

“That you’ll take care of me.”

Tears blur my vision. It’s been so long since anyone has taken care of me. Years and years since I could depend on anyone but myself.

But I trust Yakov.

Despite my doubts and the questions still swirling between us, I can see the truth in his eyes. I feel it in the way he touches me. I saw it when he turned off the smoke alarm this morning, helped me off the counter, and ate the burnt breakfast I made.

He doesn’t want to hurt me.

Yakov tightens his hand around my neck and tips me back further. The only thing keeping me from falling back is my arm propped behind me. Before I can overthink it, I lift my hand.

The world slips out from under me for half a second, maybe less. Then Yakov is there.

In an instant, he lets go of my neck and wraps his arm around my waist. He catches me, our bodies pressed close, his lips only an inch or two from mine.

“See? I know you’ll take care of me, Yakov,” I breathe softly. “So please… take care of me.”

Yakov looks at me for one agonizing second. Then he brushes aside the flapping ruins of my pajama shorts and drives every inch of himself into me.

I grip the edge of the desk. More papers and folders fall to the floor, but I can’t think about anything when Yakov is angling my hips just how he wants them.

All it takes is two, three strokes. I arch my back, bending to the way he fills me until I break.

“There. Right there.” I fall onto the desk, my cheek pressed against a folder. There’s a Polaroid in front of me, but my vision is blurred. I’m too busy seeing stars to make out anything else.

“Fuck,” Yakov growls.

I’m still pulsing when he slides out of me, flips me over, and fills me again.

The desk shakes under us. Papers fall to the floor, but I don’t care. Neither does Yakov.

His hands are strong around my waist. He drags me against him, meeting his own thrusts. I reach down and press my palm to his abs. His muscles flex with every movement. There’s a thin layer of sweat across his skin. I want to taste it.

I don’t realize I’ve said anything out loud until Yakov pants, “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

He twitches deep inside of me. Heat floods through me and Yakov collapses on my chest. His cheek is hot on my sternum as he spills himself again and again and again.

I curl my hand through his hair, holding onto him and his words. Later. We’ll have plenty of time later.

I hope like hell he’s right.