What is this man doing to me? Does he have witch blood? Why can’t I keep my hands off him? My fingers are gripping his shirt collar trying to keep upright, and my other hand slides through his hair, pulling sharply and enjoying his little grunt.
He’s still cupping my face, thumbs stroking over my cheekbones as he tilts my head to kiss me more deeply, and every momenthis lips are on mine is melting my resolve. The heat of his big body warming through me. It’s never warm on this island, even with my invulnerable Russian blood, and the scorching feel of Konstantin enveloping me makes a huge sigh shudder out of me. He absorbs it into his mouth, making a pleased noise.
He leans in for another leisurely kiss, those pouty lips of his stroking gently over my mouth, his tongue lightly sweeping along the seam of my lips and sliding in, toying with mine. God, he is so good with his mouth! He chuckled and I realized I’d said that out loud.
“Wait ‘til I use it on your perfect little pussy,” he said, and the filthy talk from him! It felt illicit. It gave me a thrill. “Trust me,Pchelka,” he soothes, “I just want to make you feel good.” His stubbled cheek is rubbing against mine and he’s whispering all kinds of really complimentary things about how pretty I am... and my amazing breasts... those sweet nipples.
“Wait!” I shove him so hard that he moves back a couple of steps. “You are…” I’m floundering here. “You’re not my type, Konstantin. I know we have to get married eventually, but-”
He’s frowning, looking confused and even that is hot. “I’m not your type? I’m everyone’s type.”
“Are you kidding? Your ego is so giant that it has its own atmosphere! God, I wish vanity was acutely painful.”
“I get it,” he says, nodding decisively, “you’re just not used to being around a man as handsome as I am. You’re going to have to stop being so shy.”
“You’re not that handsome!” I snap. This is a total lie.
“Okay, what else?” Kon’s been moving slowly and I realize now that he’s been herding me toward my bed like I’m some kind of directionally-challenged sheep.
“Well, you’re a controlling psychopath!”
He slows down for a minute, thinking about it. “Okay, that’s fair. What else?”
“I’mthisclose to reaching maximum Konstantin for tonight,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “This whiplash of yours is giving me a headache.”
“Do you know the best way to get rid of a headache?” His blue eyes are light, I would almost say they are sparkling but this man has all the warmth of a serial killer, excluding this bizarre moment.
“What?” I ask uneasily.
“Orgasms,” he says promptly. “A flood of endorphins.”
“You are so weird,” I sigh.
“And you are so tiny,” he retorts, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. When he tries to slide between my thighs, I tighten them, putting him into a headlock. “Okay, you’re not that petite,” he amends, getting the words out with some difficulty, “but if you loosen your stranglehold on my head, I’ll make it worth your while.”
I eye him for a minute. I’m enjoying this brief moment of power but I also know that I’m wet. Embarrassingly, blatantly wet. And based on his filthy grin, he knows it too. His breath is hot against my thin leggings.
“Don’t you dare give me the, ‘We’re not doing this again’ speech tomorrow,” I warn, but the little wobble at the end of my declaration is embarrassing.
“I won’t,” he promises, “but we will go slowly this time.” The death grip my thighs have on his head relaxes a fraction and he slides his hands up to cup my ass, leaning in and blowing against the wet fabric. His eyes flutter shut and he groans. “I missed this taste.” His hand lifts my ass so he can pull down my leggings and undies, grumbling at the stretchy material as it fights his tugging and eventually, yanking as I giggle helplessly.
That amusing little moment meets a quick end as he is running the tip of his tongue down my stomach, circling my belly button, and then running it around and around my clitoris, already swollen and red. Two thick fingers spread my lips and he blows on them lightly, enjoying my little moan.
“I wanted to do this that night,” he murmurs, almost to himself, “I wanted to bury my fucking face in this pretty pussy.” His blond head moves over my center, humming and sucking and adding in just a bit of teeth now and then to make me jump and gasp and ask him to do it again.
This was so much better than last time. Here, in my familiar space, and no jangly nerves from coming down from an adrenaline rush, hearing his appreciative growls and feeling how long he can stretch this out, letting me get closer and closer to some elusive finish line, just to pull back and run his stubbly cheek over my thigh.
Deftly twisting his fingers, he slides them inside me, groaning as I tighten down on them, startled. “You’re going have to let me pull my fingers out, or I can’t make you come. And you deservethat, don’t you? Coming like fireworks exploding, soaking my fingers.”
His thick fingers push and slide along all those tender little spots inside me that I never knew existed before. He makes my legs shake, makes me even wetter, when he sucks my clit between his lips and tickles it with his tongue, he makes me gratefully, finally, fall off the edge.
Heat explodes through me, my back arching and thighs tightening around his head again as he keeps licking me through my orgasm, humming approving noises against my painfully sensitive little button and setting me off again.
Konstantin’s warm hand goes to my chin, turning my face so he can kiss me. “You taste sharp and sweet,Pchelka. Just like how you are. I could lick you all night.”
I laugh weakly, “Yeah, and then we have to put your tongue in a splint and no one would ever let you live that down.”
His solid chest jolts and it takes me a second to realize that he is laughing. This annoying, smug, infuriating man islaughingwith me. And it’s wonderful.
