“Oh, Gustav...” It spills out of her mouth, shaky and submissive.
“Beg for it.”
She swallows. Her fingers clutch the shelf behind her. She cannot hold herself upright. “Please... I want... I need...”
I laugh softly against her, breath hot on her soaked panties. “Tell me you missed me.”
Her thighs tremble. Her voice is barely there. “I did.”
“And our wedding night?” I ask, sliding a finger up the center seam, pressing just enough to make her gasp. “Do you miss that?”
Her breath hitches. Her body arches, desperate. “It was the best night of my life.”
A rare, painful warmth burns through my chest.
“And you wish I was that man,” I murmur.
She nods helplessly.
“I am the same man, baby,” I assure.
I hook one finger under the delicate cotton and tug it aside just enough to see the shine of her arousal. The sight hits me like a blow. She gets like this for me. Even when she tries to hold back. Even when she thinks she hates me. My mouth waters. Her smell rises warm and sweet. I press my tongue to her slit and drag upward, savoring her taste as if it were something forbidden I waited years for. My middle finger sinks into her, fast and deep.
It’s all a reward.
She cries out, biting her lip too late. Her knees buckle, so I grip her ass and hold her up while I thrust my finger deeper. Her g-spot swells, and she clenches down, squeezing me tight like she is thanking me for every stroke.
I kiss her little clit sensually.
“You are so perfect, devushka,” I tell her. “Made for me.”
Her breath stutters. Her hips roll uncontrollably. The noises she makes are intoxicating. Raw. Needy. Too real.
I swirl my tongue on her throbbing knot of nerves while I finger fuck her. She moans, shakes, gasps.
Her climax hits with a violent shudder. She tries to pull away, overwhelmed, but I grip her hips and hold her exactly where I want her. Her legs spasm around my shoulders. Her whimper turns into a gasp. Then another. Her pleasure gushes warm and messy against my tongue and I lap it up greedily.
She trembles all the way through it, whimpering, legs giving out. I guide her down gently, letting her fold to the floor, her back leaning against the shelves.
Her eyes open slowly.
She looks up at me.
Then, her eyes flash, utterly feral. She rips down her pants the rest of the way and straddles me faster than I can react. My back presses against the bookshelf as I balance myself. She claws at my pants, undoing them and grabbing my cock like she is running out of time.
And I watch aa her naked hips lower onto my shaft. I groan, because her pussy strangles my length, because it feels like I’m home with her, because that goddamn look in her eyes is sexy as hell.
Because she dare touch me like I’m hers.
She rises and falls on my cock fast. Fuck, it’s a sight, and a relief to see her take and enjoy something. Anything in Russia, and it happens to be me.
She pants heavy, working hard as she moves.
Ger hand presses to my chest as she tires and exhales, “Oh Gustav, you...” she inhales sharply, “...you feel so good. Mmm.”
I half smile, grab her hips, and help her out, fucking her from below. She slows, and her eyelids close as the euphoria builds. I don’t know why that’s becoming my favorite thing — seeing her pleasure. I never cared whether the women climaxed, let alone enjoyed the experience. But with her, it’s a drug.
I swirl small circles on her clit, and she moans, raspy and shaky. Damn, I love it.
