But the rest of me is screaming something else, and right now, that part is louder.
I throw myself back into the pillows. My hips are squirming into Petyr’s mouth like it’s the only worthwhile place to be. But the more I move, the tighter his grip grows, pinning me to the bed whether I like it or not.
Reminding myself that this man is a stranger—the literal enemy—is useless. It just feels too good to care.
“God, Petyr…” I gasp, and then immediately go hot with shame for it.
He hums in response. The vibration sends another wave of sensation through me. Every flick of his tongue coils something deeper and tighter in my core. My thighs are trembling, hands fisted in the sheets, and I can’t tell if I’m pulling away or begging for more.
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow down, not even a bit. Just keeps going with relentless focus, dragging me to the edge and then cruelly keeping me there.
I need him to push me over, but I don’t know how to ask for that. I’ve never been in the situation to ask.
“Petyr.” It sounds so shameful, so filthy, his name spoken like that. “Please…”
The groan he lets out against my pussy is nearly animal.
My hand finds his hair. I’m so past shame, it’s all I can do to sink my nails into his scalp and drag him closer, keep him where I need him. I thought Petyr would mind, but he only groans deeper into me, latching onto my clit like it’s the only thing he ever wants to taste.
Then he scrapes me with his teeth, and I’m gone.
“Petyr!” I shatter, crying out his name.
My whole body tightens, then snaps. The pleasure wrings me dry, leaves me gasping and writhing and riding Petyr’s face with shameless abandon. The more I let myself go, the harder Petyr kisses into me, hot and slick and ravenous.
When the world finally rights itself again, I cover my face with my hands and whimper a timid, “Fuck.”
I can feel Petyr smirk against my thigh. “That’s not how we say, ‘Thank you.’”
“Ugh.” I peek at him through my fingers. “I liked it better when you were using your mouth the other way.”
“What a coincidence. So did I.”
He rises slowly, licking his lips. My face catches fire. I have no idea if this man has ever cooked breakfast in his life, but right now, my cheeks could serve as a perfect hot plate for a couple of well-done eggs.
He leans in. I let him.
It’s a deep, nasty kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, and God, that shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is. He grabs my face with both hands, angles it just right to do whatever he wants with it, like I’m his to rearrange and play with.
When we part, I’m breathless again. I can feel the hard outline of his cock through the fabric of his shirt, pressed up against my thigh.
I wet my lips, wondering what it’ll feel like inside me. If it will hurt, or…
Or, as it turns out, nothing.
Because Petyr’s rising, leaving me behind again.
“Wait.” I sit up. “You’re not—you’re not leaving, are you?”
He glances down at me, his expression unreadable.
Right. Of course. No need to act like a baby about it. That’s not the kind of baby he wants, anyway, is it? Though he’ll really need to stick it in at some point if he?—
“Relax.” A big, strong hand tips up my chin. “I’m not done with you yet. But you said you’ve never done this before, and I’m not going to break you just because it’s quicker that way.”
Oh. That’s actually kind of… nice? Sweet, in a really fucked-up sort of way?
“Don’t get ideas,” he follows up. “It’s for the sake of practicality. You shouldn’t expect flowers and chocolates from me.”
