Dark Obsession: An Age Gap, Bratva Romance (Chicago Bratva Series)

The kiss is long, deep, and hungry, all of the pent-up tension between us finally unleashed. His hands move to my waist, strong and commanding, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.

I’ve soaked through my panties, the heat of his body igniting something primal within me. He holds me possessively like he’s staking a claim.

God, I love it.

He tastes like salt and danger, a hint of smoke from the madness earlier, and something uniquely him, something that makes me want more. His lips are rough, demanding, and every swipe of his tongue against mine sends another wave of heat coursing through me.

But then he pulls back, breathless, staring at me like he’s trying to make sense of what just happened. His brow furrows, and for a split second, I think he’s going to stop.

Not a chance.

I smirk, my lips still tingling from the kiss. “What’s wrong? You too scared to finish what you started?”

A low laugh rumbles from his chest, his eyes dark with intent. “Scared? I’ve been wanting to punish that attitude of yours for a long time.”

I raise an eyebrow, biting my lip. “Well, now’s your chance.”

He doesn’t waste a second. His mouth crashes against mine again, rougher this time. We’re clawing at each other’s clothes, hands everywhere, desperate for skin. He slides the straps of my dress down my shoulders, letting the silky fabric fall to the floor. I yank off his leather jacket and tug at the hem of his T-shirt, needing to feel every inch of him.

Finally.

I yank his shirt over his head, exposing the scars he usually keeps hidden. His left arm, shoulder, and part of his chest and back are marked by fine burn scars that ripple across his skin, the lasting evidence of the explosion he survived when he was eighteen. The fire nearly killed him but he’s a survivor, tougher than steel.

I take a moment to admire his powerful, muscular body. His broad chest, the tattoos inked into his skin, all symbols of the Bratva, of loyalty, of the life we both live. He’s a living weapon, and right now, every inch of him is mine.

His hand slips between my thighs, fingers pressing against my pussy through the soaked fabric of my thong. I gasp, a moan slipping from my lips as I realize this is actually happening. His touch is firm and controlled, teasing me in a way that drives me absolutely wild.

My hips arch instinctively into his hand, and I grip his shoulders, nails digging into his scarred skin, needing more.

Grigori’s fingers move with purpose, skilled and deliberate, as he presses his thumb against my clit, rubbing slow, maddening circles. My breath hitches, and I can barely form a thought beyond how good it feels. His eyes lock on mine, dark and full of heat, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’ve been teasing me for years, princess,” he growls. “Now, it’s my turn.”

He hooks a finger around the fabric of my thong, ripping it off. The cold air kisses my wet skin for a moment before his finger slips inside. I moan, my head falling back, the sensation overwhelming. His thumb continues its relentless pressure on my clit, every stroke sending shockwaves through me.

“You like that?” he asks, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re soaked. You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes,” I manage, my body trembling against his. He’s right. I’ve wanted this for so long and now that it’s happening, it’s like every touch, every movement, is lighting me on fire.

“Good girl,” he mutters, sliding another finger inside, curling them just right. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you won’t be able to stand.”

I’m already close, the tension building with every thrust of his fingers. My moans grow louder, and I press my body tighter against his, desperate for more, needing everything he’s giving me.

It doesn’t take long before I shatter, the orgasm ripping through me, my body trembling against him. He doesn’t stop, not until the last wave fades. His lips crash into mine again, hungry and fierce, and I can’t get enough.

He guides me toward the couch, his hands firm on my hips as he turns me around and puts me on all fours. I’m still reeling from the first orgasm, but the way he touches me, the way he commands me, has me eager for so much more.

Grigori kneels behind me, every touch leaving my skin tingling, my body alive with anticipation. I hear the sound of his zipper, and I glance back, stealing a look.

Goddamn.

He’s everything I’ve imagined—long, thick, and hard. And I’ve imagined it more times than I care to admit.

He grips my hips with a force that sends a shiver through me, positioning himself at my entrance. His cock brushes against me, teasing. He pauses, holding me there on the edge, and I know exactly why. He’s waiting.

Does he know?

Suddenly, the reality of what’s about to happen slams into me. I’m not only about to have sex with Grigori, but I’m also about to lose my virginity to him. The man who’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. The man who my brothers trust explicitly. The man for whom I’ve harbored a secret crush on for years.

He must sense my hesitation because his grip loosens slightly, and he leans in closer, whispering against my ear.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is husky, but there’s an edge of concern, like he’s giving me a chance to stop this before we go any further.

This is my chance to back out, to tell him the truth—that I am a virgin. A part of me wonders if I should tell him. If he knew, would he stop and not allow things to go any further between us?

But then I look into his eyes and see the heat there, the desire that’s been building between us for years, and something inside me decides—no way am I stopping. I want him. I’ve wanted him for as long as I can remember, and I’m not going to let this moment slip away.

I shake my head slightly, giving him a soft smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” I whisper back. “Just take me.”

“What about protection?”

“I’ve been on the pill since I was a teenager,” I pant, turning my head slightly, desperate for him to end the torment. “Just fuck me already.”

He laughs, that deep, low sound that both infuriates and turns me on at the same time. “Now I kind of want to say no, just to torment you more.”

I smirk, arching my back slightly, pushing against him. “You’ve tormented me enough.”

I can hear the desire lacing his voice as he says, “Trust me, princess, the feeling is mutual.”

And then he thrusts into me, slow and smooth. The sensation is overwhelming as he stretches me in a way that’s almost too much but just right at the same time. It’s intense, the heat of him, the way he pushes deeper, and I can’t stop the moans that escape me. Every inch of him feels incredible, the pressure building with every movement.

Grigori moves slow and steady at first, then gradually builds up the pace. Each thrust sends a shockwave through me, my body responding to every movement. It’s exactly what I’ve been craving, even if I never admit it out loud. The control, the dominance, the way he knows just how to handle me.

It’s almost unfair how perfect he is—how every move, every thrust, is exactly what I’ve fantasized about for years. Years of fantasies, of stolen glances and unspoken words, all finally exploding in this very moment. I can feel it in every stroke, the way he fucks me like we’ve both been waiting for this for far too long.

He leans over me, his breath hot against my neck. “You like that, princess? This what you’ve been dreaming about?”

“Fuck, yes,” I gasp, my voice catching as he slams into me again, harder this time.

He laughs, that deep, rough sound making my body tingle. “I knew you’d be this tight for me. I’ve been thinking about it for years.”

I try to respond but my words are lost as I get closer, my body tensing, the pleasure building so intensely that it silences me. My breath comes in ragged gasps, and I can feel the edge approaching fast.

Grigori feels it too. “Not yet,” he growls, teasing me with slower strokes, drawing it out until I’m practically begging for release.

Then, without warning, he slams into me again, hard and fast, and it’s enough to send me spiraling over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me, my body trembling as I cry out, clenching around him.

I barely have time to catch my breath, still riding the aftershocks of my orgasm, when Grigori leans down, “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.”

Before I can respond, his hands are around my waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder like I’m some prize he’s just claimed from a conquered tribe.

“Grigori!” I gasp, half-scolding, half-laughing as I dangle over his broad shoulder. “Put me down, you brute!”

He chuckles, giving my ass a light slap as he strides toward the bedroom. “You love it. Admit it.”

He’s right. I do love it. The way he’s carrying me like I’m his, like I belong to him. It’s maddening.

He reaches the bedroom and tosses me onto the bed. I land with a bounce, staring up at him. My pulse quickens as he strips off the rest of his clothes, his body glorious, every muscle carved with precision. Scars and all, he’s breathtaking.

I spread my legs for him, ready for whatever comes next. He hesitates, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Not so fast,” he says, hovering over me. “I want you to tell me you’re going to be good for once.”

I glare at him, my hands itching to smack that smug look off his face. “You’re impossible.”

He smirks, holding his ground, teasing me. “Say it.”

My lips form a pout, but I can’t deny the thrill running through me. “Fine,” I huff. “I’ll be good, but just this once.”

“Good girl.”

Grigori climbs over and slides into me with a smooth, deliberate push, and I can’t help but squirm beneath him, arching my back and pushing my hips up to meet him, making sure I take every last inch.

He’s so deep inside me, I feel like he’s claiming a part of me I didn’t even know existed. When he bottoms out, a shudder runs through my body—I never want him to leave. In fact, the way he feels inside me, how perfectly he fills me, almost scares me. I’ve never felt anything like this.

He starts thrusting, the bed shaking with each relentless stroke. His movements are rough but calculated, and I like it, especially when he pins me down by my wrists as he drives into me. He commands my body like it belongs to him, and right now, it might as well.

“Fuck,” I breathe, barely able to keep up with the rhythm he’s setting but loving every second of it.

Grigori’s gaze locks onto mine, a primal hunger flashing in his eyes as he thrusts harder, his grip on my wrists tightening. I’m getting close again, and I know he can feel it. But I’m not about to let him have all the control.

“Come with me,” I challenge, my voice breathless as I buck my hips up against him.

He grins, that devilish, knowing smirk that drives me wild. “You think you can handle that, princess?”

His rhythm intensifies, each powerful thrust sending me spiraling toward the edge. It’s like an out-of-body experience as pure pleasure courses through me, all of my senses overwhelmed. I scream his name as I come, my body shaking beneath him.

A moment later, he grunts as his own release hits him. He empties his cock inside me, filling me with his warmth. I cling to him, lost in the heat of it all.

As soon as Grigori slides out of me, I feel empty, and my body immediately craves him again. It’s downright scary how good it was, how much more I want.

He pulls me into his arms, his touch gentle, his lips brushing softly against my forehead. It’s so unlike him, being so tender, that for a moment I almost forget the chaos we went through tonight. But the reality of it all soon creeps back in.

I lay there, my head on his chest, worry gnawing at me. “Those men will come for you again,” I murmur, my fingers absently tracing the lines of his scars. “They’re not going to just go away and let this go.”

Grigori’s arm tightens around me. “I’ll handle it, Elena. This isn’t your problem. You won’t be involved.”

I laugh softly, though there’s no humor in it. “I’m already involved. You think I can just step aside and let you face this alone?” I lift my head to meet his eyes, my voice firm. “I’m not some bystander. You should know that by now.”

He looks at me, his usual stoic expression faltering for a second. “You don’t have to be a part of this. I won’t let you get hurt.”

But there’s something he doesn’t understand. I’m not just in this because of who I am.

I’m in this because of how I feel about him.