I looked up at her. “Are you sure?” My voice was low, steady. I needed her to hear the question for what it was—permission, not pressure.
She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”
That one word cracked something open in me. I leaned forward again, this time letting my hands rest on her thighs, feeling the tension and heat humming through both of us. I didn’t rush. I just kissed the inside of her knee, slow, deliberate, keeping my eyes on her face the whole time.
Her breath trembled, her gaze locked to mine. I could see the battle playing out behind her eyes—the trust, the vulnerability, the fear of letting someone see her this unguarded.
I slowly pulled down her shorts, my hands steady despite the storm raging inside me. She lifted her hips slightly, helping me, her breath hitching as the fabric slid down her thighs. When she was bare before me, I paused, taking in the sight of her—vulnerable, trusting, more beautiful than anything I deserved.
I leaned in, pressing my face against her mound, and inhaled deeply. Her scent filled my lungs—warm, musky, intoxicating. A groan rumbled from my chest, low and primal, as every nerve in my body ignited. I was hard, painfully so, just from her scent, her proximity, the trust she placed in me.
“Nikolai,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but it echoed through me like a shout. I looked up at her, seeing the mix of desire and nervousness in her eyes. It was a heady combination, one that made me want to both ravage her and cherish her.
I shifted slightly, my gaze dropping to her pussy. Her lips were glistening with slickness, a sight that sent a surge of heat coursing through me. I wanted to taste her, to feel her come undone against my mouth. But I also wanted to savor this moment, to draw out every second of her pleasure.
I ran a finger lightly along her inner thigh, feeling the softness of her skin, the tremble of her muscles. She gasped, her hips jerking slightly, and I smiled, loving how responsive she was to my touch.
“You’re so wet for me, malen’kaya,” I murmured, my voice thick with desire. “So fucking perfect.”
Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she spread her legs a little wider, opening herself up to me completely. It was an invitation, a surrender, and it made my heart pound in my chest.
I leaned in again, this time letting my tongue trace a slow, deliberate path along her slit. She moaned, her hands gripping the edge of the counter tightly, her body arching toward me.
I groaned again, the taste of her sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.
This was more than just physical need. It was a connection, a claiming, a promise. And as I delved deeper, exploring every inch of her with my tongue, I knew that I was lost. Completely, utterly lost in her. And I never wanted to be found.
"God, you taste so fucking good," I growled, my voice vibrating against her sensitive flesh. I could feel her muscles tensing, her body responding to every flick of my tongue.
She gasped, her hips jerking as I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue. "Nikolai..." Her voice was a breathless plea, a mix of desperation and desire that sent a surge of heat coursing through me.
I slid two fingers inside her, feeling her tighten around me. She was so wet, so ready, and it was all for me. I pumped my fingers in and out, my mouth never leaving her clit, my tongue working her into a frenzy.
"You're so tight, malen’kaya," I murmured, my voice low and rough. "So fucking perfect."
She moaned, her body arching toward me, her hips moving in sync with my fingers. I could feel her getting closer, her muscles tensing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"That's it, baby," I whispered, my voice a dark promise. "Come for me. Let me feel you come undone."
Her body convulsed, her muscles clenching around my fingers as she cried out, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. I kept my mouth on her, my tongue lapping up every drop of her pleasure, my fingers slowing but not stopping until she rode out every last shudder.
When she finally stilled, I pulled back, my gaze locking onto hers. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed with satisfaction, and a soft smile played on her lips.
"Wow," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smirked, a sense of pride and satisfaction filling me. "Just the beginning, malen’kaya," I promised, my voice a low rumble. "Just the beginning."
I kissed her deeply, pouring every ounce of desire and conflict into the connection. Her lips parted, granting me entry, and I explored her mouth with a hunger that surprised even me. She tasted sweet, like the lingering remnants of sugar and something uniquely her. It was intoxicating.
"How do you taste?" I murmured against her lips, my voice a low rumble that echoed through the quiet room.
She moaned softly; the sound vibrating through me and sending a shiver down my spine. Her hands began to explore, running up and down my bare chest, tracing the lines of my muscles as if they were a roadmap to my soul. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, igniting a fire that burned hotter with every passing second.
Her fingers trailed lower, dipping beneath the waistband of my pajama pants. I held my breath, anticipating the moment when she would touch me, when she would take control in a way that both excited and terrified me. Her hands were warm and confident, moving with a purpose that belied her innocent demeanor.
She locked eyes with me as she pulled out my cock, her gaze steady and unyielding. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—a challenge, a promise—that made my heart race. How did she know how to touch me like this? How did she know exactly what I needed, what I craved?
Her touch was gentle at first, her fingers tracing the length of me with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down my spine. But then her grip tightened, her movements becoming more deliberate, more confident. She seemed so innocent, and yet...
