The fabric tears with a sound that's obscenely satisfying. I toss the ruined scrap aside and bring my fingers to her mouth.
"Make them wet," I command, voice barely recognizable as my own.
She's already dripping. I can feel it. But I want her spit on my fingers. Want her mouth on some part of me.
Her lips part. Her tongue slides out, tentative at first. Then bolder.
She sucks my fingers into her mouth, and I nearly lose my mind.
The wet heat. The way her tongue swirls around each digit. The eye contact she maintains while doing it, like she's challenging me even in surrender.
I pull my fingers from her mouth, wet and gleaming in the monitor light.
Then I find her clit.
She jerks against me, a sharp inhale cutting through the quiet hum of electronics. I start with slow circles, feeling how swollen she already is, how responsive to even the gentlest touch.
I kiss her while I work, my tongue mimicking the motion of my fingers. Slow circles. Building pressure. Drawing out the tension until she's shaking against me.
My hand leaves her throat. Moves up to the neckline of her dress. I yank the fabric down, taking her bra with it until one breast spills free.
I bite her nipple. Not gently. Hard enough that she cries out.
Then I suck. Roll the tight peak between my teeth while my fingers continue their work between her legs, pinching and circling her clit until her hips are moving in rhythm with my hand.
I take my two fingers, slick with her arousal, and press them just inside her entrance.
And stop. She's too tight.
She starts to shake. The tremors run through her whole body, and I know she's close. Right on the edge.
I press my thumb hard against her clit. Stroke inside her with those two fingers, feeling her clench around the invasion. Bite down on her nipple, pulling until she makes a sound that's half pain, half pleasure.
She comes.
Her whole body goes rigid, then dissolves into shudders I feel in my bones. She cries out, the sound breaking in the middle, and I swallow it with my kiss while she pulses around my fingers.
Beautiful. She's so fucking beautiful when she comes. And she likes a little pain with her pleasure.
I don't let her recover. Don't give her time to think or resist or remember all the reasons this shouldn't happen.
"One more," I say against her mouth. "Give me one more."
She shakes her head, eyes glazed and unfocused. "I can't. Zakhar, I—"
I slap her ass. The sound cracks through the room.
"You don't call the shots anymore," I tell her, letting my voice drop into pure command. "You'll do exactly what I say."
Then I slap between her legs. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to shock. To remind her that her body belongs to me right now.
She gasps, and I kiss her through it. Swallow the sound and the surprise and the renewed arousal I can already feel building.
I pick her up and press her back against the monitor wall, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively.
My dick is still trapped in my pants, hard enough to be painful. I position myself so I'm grinding directly against her exposed pussy, the rough fabric of my pants rubbing against her slick heat.
"Make a mess of my pants," I order, voice harsh with need. "Come all over me like the greedy girl you are."
