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Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 27
CamilaNo man should be able to wipe away every drop of sorrow with a kiss, but Asher manages it without effort. It’s only our third kiss, but he kisses me like we’re familiar lovers, finding the perfect way to angle our mouths and pressing his tongue on mine just how I like it.“Asher,” I whisper.“Do you want me to stop?” He kisses my shoulder, moving the strap of my dress down my arm until it drapes on my elbow. His mouth explores the new patch of untouched skin. “Say the word, ptichka. I’ll do as you ask.”His hands glide my other strap down. There’s nothing holding my dress up but my chest as it rises and falls with my every quickening breath. Just tell him you don’t want this. My hands circle his strong neck as the words die in my throat. One word and he’ll end it. One little word and this stops. My nails scrape down his deltoids, feeling every groove.Asher’s breath scalds my cheek. He’s waiting, the moment hanging in the air like a drop of dew on a leaf.I’m standing on a clif
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AsherSweat drips down my backbone, cool against my sizzling skin. I’m not sweating from exertion but from the strain of keeping myself in check. The urge to drive my cock faster and deeper into Camila with every thrust is beyond tempting.But when I look at her under me, I know I can’t.She’ll shatter. She’ll break. I never expected to care about this before now. When I imagined pumping inside of her in the past—and I imagined it often—I was ruthless. In those fantasies, I made her scream—whether from agony or delight, I didn’t care. But now … I do.Why?Something digs painfully into my knuckle. It gets worse when I squeeze Camila’s fingers to hold her hands over her head. That’s when I see the ring I forced on her finger—the seal of our upcoming false wedding. A prickle begins at the nape of my neck, and it worms down into my ribs.This is why.Shaking myself, I push the bubbling emotion deep below the surface of primal lust raging at the surface. My pace quickens. The wet sound of
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 29
CamilaMy reflection looks nothing like me. Yes, it’s my face with the right color eyes, the familiar cupid’s bow mouth, but that’s where it ends. The woman staring at me in the mirror, with her hair wound up in an elegant braid with white flowers woven through and sparse rouge on her cheeks, is a stranger.Rubbing my hands down the wedding dress that squeezes my middle, I let out a sigh. Get it together, Camila. This is you. You chose this dress for this day. My inner voice doesn’t help. I still feel like I’m out of my body, watching somebody else prepare for her wedding.“Miss?” Ollie asks. “Do you like it? Should I add more blush or thicker eyeliner?”“You did great,” I assure her gently.“But … you barely have any makeup on.”That was intentional on my part. I’ve never been one for pounds of foundation or exaggerated styles. I thought that if I looked more like my usual self, I might be able to handle this day better.Looking at my reflection again, I wonder if I made the wrong ch
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 30
Waving his fingers over the rings, the priest raises his voice so it belts around the church without the aid of a microphone. “The servant of God is betrothed to the maid of God in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”Asher takes my hand; I jump at the sensation of our skin touching as memories of him fucking me invade my thoughts again. He slips the ring on my finger to settle beside the engagement ring. When he lets go, my arm feels like it weighs ten times more than before.“Asher Volkov,” the priest says, his hand held in the air. Asher cringes when he hears the name. It’s the first time I’ve heard him addressed like this. I try to catch his eye, but he purposefully avoids it. “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”There—now he looks at me. “I do.” His voice is solid as stone. It gives me strength, helping the shaking in my knees evaporate. How strange that two simple words could have so much power.“Camila Marakov Rubinova.” It’s my turn
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 31
AsherNo matter how many times I spin the ring on my finger, I can’t find where it starts or ends. It’s almost the same tint of silver as my eye color. The platinum with a black diamond inlay through the middle strikes a powerful aesthetic. Pricey, but I bought it myself. If I’m going to wear jewelry, it needs to be exquisite.Camila looked blatantly stunned when the priest asked her for the ring. I should have prepared her more. I was busy with other, more pressing plans.Plans that turned out to be pointless.The reminder that my trap wasn’t sprung is infuriating. I twist the ring faster, friction burning against my finger. I continue to spin in spite of the pain. Why didn’t Yannick show up? Mila’s intel was rock solid. He knew about the wedding, knew the time, the location, everything. He knew more than Camila.And yet …A spike of shame runs through my heart, and I stop twisting the ring. My mind wanders back to yesterday afternoon, to the wedding itself.To Camila.I busied mysel
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 32
CamilaI’m a pile of needles. Each time I move, I feel my thoughts prickling me—not hard enough to draw blood, but still enough to remind me of my discomfort. I can’t believe Mom is coming here. Settling on the cushion of my vanity, I run my brush through my hair. There are no tangles; I’m brushing it just to stay busy.Will she like it here? What should I say to her?What can I even say to her?Hi, Mom, you remember Asher? Turns out he’s a Bratva pakhan who killed a man the night before he showed up to buy our studio.Oh, and he’s my husband now. But don’t worry, it’s just a temporary thing.God, she’ll never forgive me if she hears any of that.My phone on the vanity begins to buzz, and I snatch it up, answering without looking. “Hello?”“Camila!” Adriana shouts in my ear, and I have to hold the phone away while wincing in pain. “Oh my God! You’re okay!”“Yeah, of course, I’m okay.” I guess she must have worried because we haven’t spoken to each other in a while. “What’s up?”“What’
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Her eyes darken. “Is it Simon?”“No! No.” I shake my head quickly. “I mean, he might be, sure, but this is someone else. How much do you know about …” I hesitate to say the word, but I can’t keep this from her forever. “About the Bratvas?”“Camila Marakov, no!” She jumps off the bed, cursing something under her breath. “Do not tell me that you’ve gotten involved with the Bratvas!”Her reaction surprises me. I stand slowly, holding my hands up to indicate she should sit, but she doesn’t. “Mom, calm down.”“Answer me! Have you?”Wincing at my inability to lie to her face, I go silent. Then, slowly, I dip my head ever so slightly in a nod.She gasps and her hand twitches. Wincing, I close my eyes in anticipation of a slap that never comes. When I open them, Mom is glaring at the bedroom door. I wait for it to combust from her fury. But it doesn’t.“So,” she starts, and I can detect the faintest tremble in her voice, “Asher is Bratva. Now I understand where all his money comes from.”“Don
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 34
CamilaWith the utmost patience, I pull my dress upward. The hem is at my knees, and it’s a thrill to have his gaze drink in my every movement. Shimmying my leggings down with my other hand, I expose my creamy thighs. I don’t have any panties on, and he inhales lustily at the sight.“Do you like seeing me stand before you like this?” I whisper slyly.“Knowing that you’ve been strutting around with your delicious pussy easily accessible to me? What do you think?”Spreading his legs, he rubs his palm over his massive erection. He grinds his zipper down in an agonizingly slow motion, revealing the bulge of his cock throbbing against the thin fabric of his boxers.Not to be outdone, I step out of my leggings, and then I inch my dress up and over my hips, my navel, until he can see the underside of my breasts. I remain there, my hard nipples acting like nails that hold the fabric in place.Asher lifts his eyebrows at my show. Shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs sends his thick coc
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