It was white-hot lust.
Ivan lowered me onto a velvet chaise lounge. The worst thing this antique probably saw was a reader who’d put their shoes on the ledge. That was nothing compared to the filthy ideas of what was to come that ran through my mind. We were going to desecrate this piece of furniture.
But Ivan didn’t crawl on top of me.
He knelt.
The sight of him bent before me sent liquid heat rushing through my body. My breath came in short, staccato gasps. His eyes never left mine as his hands slid up my calves, his touch igniting every nerve ending along the way. I couldn’t think, my entire being focused on the points where his skin met mine.
“This is how I’ve wanted you,” he murmured, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on my ankles before moving higher. “You, spread out before me like a feast.”
A whimper escaped my lips as his hands continued their torturous journey upward. My thighs trembled beneath his touch, my body responding to him with an intensity that shocked me. I was burning from the inside out, desperate for more. His fingers found the hem of my dress, toying with the fabric as he watched my reaction. My chest heaved with each ragged whoosh. He watched me struggle to breathe, knew exactly the effect he had over me.
This is only for tonight.I could do this.
I forced my lungs to work. Air forced its way inside me.
“Let me taste you,” he growled, pushing the ruby fabric up my legs. “I’ve dreamed of this, of having you spread open for me, of hearing those pretty sounds you’ll make when my tongue is inside you.”
My head fell back against the velvet slope as his hands parted my thighs with gentle force. The cool air hit my exposed skin, making me shiver—or perhaps it was the hunger in his eyes as he gazed at my most intimate place.
“Tell me what you want, Poppy,” he commanded, his accent thicker now, rougher. “I need to hear you say it.”
My inhibitions melted away under his hungry gaze. “Your mouth,” I whispered. “I want your mouth on me.”
A predatory smile crossed his face. “Good girl.”
When his lips finally touched me, I gasped, my back arching off the chaise. His tongue swept through my folds with deliberate slowness, tasting, teasing, exploring.
I cried out as his tongue flattened against my clit. My fingers grasped the velvet beneath me, anchoring myself as waves of pleasure threatened to carry me away. Ivan hummed against me, the vibration sending shocks through my core.
“Santa Maria!” I gasped, my hips lifting involuntarily.
His large hands gripped my thighs, holding me open and in place as he devoured me. The wet heat of his mouth was unlike anything I’d experienced before.Hewas out of my league. Methodical yet passionate, controlled yet wild. Ivan wasn’t rushing, wasn’t treating this as a means to an end. He was savoring me.
My fingers found their way to his hair, tangling in the thick strands as I guided him closer. His tongue circled my entrance before plunging inside, drawing a strangled moan from my throat.
The pleasure built, coiling tighter with each stroke of his tongue. I was losing myself in him, in the sensations he created. My inhibitions melted away as my hips moved against his mouth, seeking more pressure, more friction.
“Oh, Madonna,” I moaned. “Please, Ivan.”
He pulled back just enough to look up at me, his chin glistening with my arousal. “Please what, little flower? Tell me.”
“Don’t stop,” I begged, my voice breaking.
His dark eyes locked with mine as he lowered his mouth again, this time focusing entirely on my clit. He sucked it between his lips, flicking it with his tongue while sliding one thick finger inside me.
My world shattered. The orgasm hit me like a tsunami, crashing through my body in violent waves. I cried out his name, back arching as my thighs trembled.
Ivan didn’t stop. He rode me through the waves of pleasure, his tongue gentle but insistent as aftershocks rippled through my body. When the intensity became too much, I tapped on his head, begging for mercy.
He righted himself slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sight of him—this dangerous man on his knees,his eyes dark with want—made something primal stir inside me again.
My mind swam in a haze of pleasure. The room tilted and spun as I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. I felt drunk, though I’d barely touched the wine.
“Come here,” I whispered, my voice thick. My movements were sluggish as I reached for him. “Let me take care of you now.”
Ivan’s eyes flashed with heat, but instead of climbing onto the chaise, he stood and held out his hand. His other hand. “Come back to the table. I have something for you.”
