The Enforcer (Chicago Bratva #3) - Renee Rose Page 0,16
it to her hard.
I grip my own dick, which makes her pop off. I pull her pajama bottoms off. I want to put my mouth on her dripping cunt, but I have more confidence about what I can do with my cock. Not having a tongue to please her fucking killed me last time.
You’d think after so long I’d have accepted my fate. I’m not a wallowing fuck, but Story awakens the need to be so much more than what I’ve been for the last years—barely half a man.
She props herself up on her forearms to watch me roll the condom on. She liked me aggressive, so I grab her thighs and tug her to the center of the bed, showing off my strength.
Her breathy laugh makes it so worth it. “Ooh, there’s Big Daddy.”
Big Daddy. I don’t know enough American pop culture to be sure I understand the moniker, but I get the gist. She’s my shalun'ya, and I’m the guy in charge. The guy who’s going to fuck her until she screams.
I position myself between her open thighs and rub the head of my sheathed cock over her slit. I need to be inside her like a bear needs his first meal after winter, but I force myself to push in slowly, knowing I’m big, and she’s a little pixie.
She arches, her head dropping back as she thrusts her hips up to take me deeper.
Blyad'. She needs more? I’ll give it to her. I cage her throat with my hand. I don’t squeeze at all—not even a little bit, but the position itself is dominant. I hold her throat and shove my cock in with a hard thrust.
“Oh my gawd.” Story’s mouth opens wide, her body undulating beneath mine, responding to my thrust.
I ease back then arc in again with force, keeping her from sliding up with the hand around her throat. Her core contracts around my cock. With my free hand, I pinch her nipple then squeeze her perfect breast.
I go slow and hard for a while, punctuating my in-strokes with a pause to let her feel my full length, to get used to me. But both of us soon need more. Story starts reaching for me, holding my sides to pull me in sooner, so I shorten the strokes and increase the pace, leaning one hand against the wall behind her head to brace myself.
“Oleg,” she pants. “Oh my God, yes. Oleg.”
Hearing her chant my name sends my ego on a victory march before it’s even over. The most human part of me that had shriveled up and died turning on a little more each time I drink in her goddess-beautiful face.
Story. I want to chant her name back to her. My lastochka. I shift to lift her legs up to my shoulders, holding the fronts of her thighs, so I can plow deeper. Her cries get louder and more frequent—almost a constant stream of vocalizations.
I pause and arch a brow. You like that, shalun’ya?
Spank me, Daddy. Remembering her squeal when I put her over my shoulder Saturday night, I pull out and flip her to belly, giving each buttcheek a sharp slap.
“Ooh!” She arches her back like a cat, offering her ass up to me. I deliver another two slaps before I push back in, and she moans her contentment.
I hold her by the nape and ride her from behind, glorying in each delicious, dizzying stroke. The room swoops and swims, but it’s from ecstasy not pain. Nothing feels so right as being inside Story.
I stroke down her back with the fingertips of my free hand. Admire the umbrella tattoo on her shoulder blade. Grab a handful of her ass. Hold her hip. I pull her cheeks wide to get at her cute little hole, and she lets out a stream of frantic, garbled encouragement. She doesn’t last long. Four more stokes, and then she comes, her legs straightening and jerking, her inner walls squeezing my cock like a fist.
I fuck her harder and faster to bring on my own finish, and it comes immediately. I plunge deep and hold, reaching my hand under her hips to rub her clit and coax out the rest of her climax. It works. Another gigantic tremor runs through her, and the muscles pulse again, squeezing more cum into the condom. Sparks of light dance behind my eyes. I pull out and topple to my side, my head splitting but my heart, my spirit—something I thought long dead—soaring like