I clench around him.
“Fuck…” he curses softly, his eyes growing stormy with desire. “You're dripping wet. You make me hungry, zayka.”
Then, he takes out his finger and buries his head between my thighs, his lips latching onto my clit.
A strangled cry escapes my lips as a rush of sensation floods my core. I close my eyes, throwing my head back against the wall. My back arches instinctively, opening myself up wider to him.
He swipes his tongue over my clit, then slips a finger into me again, slowly creating a maddening rhythm with his mouth and hand.
“Alexei…” I moan breathlessly, my fingers tightening in his hair.
I’m overwhelmed by sensation. I try to move away, just to get some relief from the overwhelming rush of pleasure, but Alexei's grip on my thigh tightens, holding me in place.
“Too…too much,” I gasp out.
He doesn't respond. Instead, he intensifies his torturous movements.
I’m forced to feel the persistent stroke of his tongue and the glide of his lips, the single finger moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Soft, broken cries escape my lips as I submit myself to the sensation. Pressure builds low in my belly, climbing higher until I actually feel like I might combust. Suddenly, my orgasm breaks free.
My pussy clenches uncontrollably around his finger, my hands fisting painfully tight in his hair.
“Oh, please…” I whimper even though I don't know what I'm begging for. “Please…”
But Alexei keeps going, until I shatter around him all over again.
Alexei gentles his touch, easing me through the aftershocks until my trembling subsides. Then he presses one last kiss to my inner thigh and rises to his feet, his dark eyes blazing with barely restrained hunger.
He cups my face in his hands, his thumb tracing my swollen lower lip. “Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Not like this.”
I blink up at him, still breathless, my body aching for more. “W-what?”
“When I take you for the first time,” he says, his forehead dropping to rest against mine, “it won’t be against a wall in the dark. You deserve better than that.” His jaw flexes with the effort of holding back. “You deserve everything.”
The words wrap around my heart and squeeze. I don’t know what to say, so I just nod, my fingers curling into the front of his shirt.
He exhales slowly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Come on,zayka. Let’s get you to bed.”
Alexei scoops me up in his strong arms and heads straight toward the bathroom.
I wonder briefly how he knows his way around, but the thought disappears as soon as it flashes through my mind.
Of course, he knows– he's been watching me for the past four years.
The bathroom light flicks on with a soft click, and he sets me down on the cool counter, still holding me like he doesn’t trust my legs to work. He’s right not to.
He turns on the tap, tests the water with his fingers, then reaches for a small towel. The silence stretches between us, thick and charged. He doesn’t speak as he cleans me up in slow, deliberate motions that make my breath catch for reasons that have nothing to do with modesty. There’s something reverent in the way he touches me, like he’s trying to memorize every inch.
When he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and carries me into the bedroom, setting me on my feet by the dresser. He opens a drawer. He pauses, pulls out a faded gray T-shirt, and stares at it for a second too long. My stomach flips.
He looks up at me. “Why do you have this?.”
My face burns. “I–it's comfortable.”
His mouth curves slightly, but his eyes stay dark. “It's mine. You took it from my room. Years ago, didn’t you?” He doesn’t sound angry. He sounds...moved.
I slip my dress off my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet. He slides the T-shirt over my head, his fingers brushing down my arms as he helps me into it. The hem falls mid-thigh, the fabric soft with age. It smells faintly of him, even now.
