“Please, what?” His voice is rough velvet, all command, all control. “Tell me what you want, Sasha.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, but he doesn’t let me hide. His fingers still until I open them again, forced to meet his gaze. Hiseyes are molten steel, unyielding, pulling the truth right out of me.
“I want…I want you to touch me,” I whisper, barely breathing.
He presses a kiss to my jaw, then lower, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down my throat. “Good girl.”
His fingers slip deeper, sliding inside me with aching slowness. My body clamps around him instinctively, and his groan is low, feral, vibrating against my skin. “Tight. Christ….”
He moves carefully, deliberately, coaxing me open, his thumb finding that sensitive spot that makes me jerk against him. My head falls back against the pillows as waves of sensation crash over me, drowning out thought, reason, everything except him.
“Breathe for me,” he rasps, his pace building, his mouth closing over my breast again. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
And when it hits—hot, sharp, all-consuming—I cry out his name like a prayer.
I’m still trembling from the aftershocks when he eases his hand away. I think he’ll give me a moment to recover, but instead he slides lower, spreading me open beneath his gaze. His eyes flick up to mine, gray and burning, holding me there while his mouth hovers at the place no one has ever touched before.
“Lev—” My voice breaks, half protest, half plea.
“Shh.” His hands grip my thighs, firm, possessive. “I want to taste you. I need to.”
And then his mouth is on me.
The first stroke of his tongue rips a sound from me I don’t even recognize—raw, shocked, desperate. I arch against him, but his hands pin me down, forcing me to take every agonizing sweep of his tongue as he licks me like I’m something to be devoured.
“God, you’re sweet,” he growls against me, voice muffled by my flesh. “Fucking intoxicating.”
Heat floods my body, unbearable, relentless. He takes his time, tongue teasing, lips sucking, drawing circles that make me shake apart piece by piece. Every flick, every pull feels calculated, deliberate—like he’s memorizing the map of me.
My fingers knot in his hair, tugging hard, but he only groans into me, doubling down. The sound vibrates against my most sensitive place, and I gasp, my legs trembling around his shoulders.
“Lev…oh God—Lev, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice is dark velvet between licks, commanding and coaxing all at once. “You’re going to come for me again, Sasha. You don’t get to hold back.”
And when he sucks harder, tongue pressing exactly where I need, the pressure detonates inside me. My vision whites out, my body bows off the bed, and I cry out until my throat is raw.
He doesn’t stop. Not right away. He keeps going, slow, languid, drinking me down until I’m shaking uncontrollably, until the pleasure is too much to bear. Only then does he finally pull back, lips wet, eyes wild with hunger.
“You see?” he whispers, crawling up my body, his mouth finding mine again. “This is what I wanted from the moment I saw you. To ruin you for anyone else.”
His words still thrum in my chest when his mouth claims mine again—hungry, wet, tasting of me. My body is limp beneath him, wrecked and trembling, but when his weight settles over me, I feel that same spark of panic twist through the haze, reality crashing onto me.
“Lev…”
He feels the fear in my voice and slightly pulls away, those steel-gray eyes searching mine. “I’ll go slow. It’ll only be about you. Say stop, and I’ll stop. Do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
The word unlocks something in him. His hands roam again, slower this time, coaxing every inch of me to soften beneath him. He kisses me deeply, one hand sliding down to guide himself. I feel him there—thick, hot, daunting—and I tense instinctively.
“Easy, little one,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Breathe. Let me in.”
He presses forward, the stretch sharp, burning. My nails dig into his shoulders. I bite back a cry, but he kisses me through it, whispering against my lips. “That’s it. Take me. You’re perfect. Mine.”
The ache gives way to heat as he stills, buried deep inside me, his whole body trembling with restraint. His forehead drops to my shoulder, and his voice is ragged. “Fuck…you feel like heaven.”
Slowly, he begins to move—gentle, steady, his hand finding mine and threading our fingers together. Every thrust builds the pressure again, pleasure blooming where there had only been pain. My gasps turn into moans, my hips rising to meet him.
