His hands cupped my breasts. The first skin-to-skin contact there. His palms were warm. His thumbs brushed over my nipples. The sensation shot straight to my core.
I gasped. My back arched off the sofa without permission. Chasing his touch.
"That's one," he murmured. The hint of a smile played at his lips. "Let's find the rest."
He took his time. His hands explored my collarbones. Traced the line of them with his fingertips. Then moved to the hollow of my throat. The vulnerable place where my pulse hammered.
His mouth followed. Pressed a kiss there. His tongue darted out to taste my skin. I made a sound. Small. Needy.
"Two," he said against my throat.
His lips moved higher. Found the spot behind my ear that made me shiver. Kissed it. Sucked gently. My hands fisted in the leather cushion beneath me.
"Three."
This was torture. Sweet torture. His methodical cataloguing of every sensitive place on my body while I grew more desperate with each discovery. My core was aching. Empty. Wanting.
But he wasn't rushing. Was savoring this. Savoring me.
His hands returned to my breasts. Cupped them. Squeezed gently. His thumbs circled my nipples without quite touching them. The anticipation was killing me.
"Please," I whimpered.
"Please what, devotchka?"
"Touch me. More. I need—"
His thumbs finally brushed over the hardened peaks. The sensation made me cry out. Made my hips lift off the sofa seeking friction.
But there was nothing there. Just air. Just need.
"Patience," he murmured. "I'm not done learning you yet."
His right hand stayed on my breast. Playing. Circling. Pinching lightly. His left hand slid down my ribs. Over my stomach. Traced patterns on my hip bone.
Getting closer. So close to where I needed him.
But not close enough.
Then his mouth closed around my left nipple. Hot. Wet. Perfect pressure. He sucked gently while his hand played with my right breast. The dual sensation made me forget how to breathe.
My hands flew to his hair. Fisted in the dark strands. My body arched into his mouth. Offering myself. Begging without words.
He sucked harder. Used his tongue. His teeth scraped gently and I made a sound I'd never made before. Desperate. Broken. Completely his.
"Four," he said when he released my nipple. His breath was hot against my wet skin. "And five. And probably six through ten."
His mouth moved to my other breast. Gave it the same attention. Sucking and licking and using his teeth until I was writhing beneath him. Until I'd forgotten my own name just like he'd promised.
My core clenched around nothing. Empty. Aching. So wet I could feel it.
"Daddy," I whimpered. "Please. I need—I need you to—"
He lifted his head. His grey eyes were almost black now. Pupils blown wide with want. His lips were wet. His breathing was harsh.
"What do you need, devotchka?" His voice was pure command. Pure Daddy. "Tell me exactly what you need."
But I couldn't form words. Could barely think past the overwhelming need coursing through my body. Past the desperate ache between my legs that was becoming painful.
