She’s not wearing panties.
I raise a brow, lick my lips, and taste her mouth on mine. “Still waters run deep, eh, Miss Chloe? I do appreciate when there’s nothing between me and my meal.”
In the quiet kitchen, her sharp gasp is electric. “I…I’ve read that sleeping without underwear on is?—”
“Oh, I understand. I’m all about staying healthy. Exercise and eating well are also doctor recommended. So is gettingplenty of fluids.” My hand slides between her thighs. “Which I plan to work on right now.”
More blood rushes south when I realize she’s soaked.
I find her clit with ruthless precision. One, two, three brutal strokes prompt her body to arch against the counter. “Spread your legs, Chloe.”
She obeys without hesitation. That alone has me almost rethinking my actions. I could do so much more to her, but this will have to suffice.
She bites her lip as she absorbs what I’m doing. Her eyes roll up into the back of her head when I push a finger inside her.
Tight. Hot.
Wet with desire for me.
“Good girl.” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Her reaction is immediate. My praise causes her to blush and shudder around my finger. Just the way I knew she would.
She craves this as much as touch.
So easy to read.
So easy to control.
I work her with my thumb, stroke inside her with my finger, and add a second when she pants against my neck. She’s responsive, every caress triggering new sounds from her throat. I curl my fingers, finding the spot that widens her eyes, and her mouth falls open in silent bliss.
My mind shuts down completely. There’s only this. The slick heat of her around my fingers, the small noises she releases, the way her touch-starved body responds to me. I add a third finger, stretching her. Her face contorts with pleasure.
“Kolya…” She gasps for air, her nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt. “Please.”
Her blissed-out face is stunning. Distracting. A problem.
“Please what?” I keep my voice controlled even as my cock strains against my pants. “Tell me.”
“I need—” Her words break on a moan as I press my thumb harder against her clit, circling relentlessly. “I need to?—”
“Come for me.” An order.
She falls apart in less than a minute, crying out my name. Her hands clamp onto my shoulders as she throws her head back, her body threshing with the force of her release.
My own pulse accelerates as I examine her flushed face. Breathtaking.
This is what I needed. Unraveling her, conducting a clinical observation of cause and effect without giving in to my own desires. She’s my puppet, twitching and jerking to the movement of my hand.
A choked cry escapes her lips, her muscles clenching around my fingers in rhythmic pulses.
I want to spin her around, shove her against the wall, spread her legs with my knee, and thrust inside her. Take my own pleasure from her body. Mark her as mine in the most primitive way possible.
But that would be losing myself.
I’ve regained control by breaking hers. I won’t forfeit it.
When she begins to crumple, I guide her boneless form into a kitchen chair. The kettle whistles, but she either ignores the sound or doesn’t hear it.
